“We haven’t had time to talk about the world going ‘Handmaid’s Tale…'”
It’s a perfect summer Saturday night on the steps of the Cleveland Museum of Art. It’s been two years since the last Summer Solstice — one of those “must attend” events for the city’s bourgeois and bourgeois-adjacent — and when I see all the “Solstice was amazing!!!” photos Sunday morning, I will frown in confusion because the party I attended was pretty, but pretty forgettable.
I don’t want to talk about this here. To be honest, I don’t want to talk about it at all. But this is a thing my BFF and I do. It’s what happens when a bond is forged in four years of Mass Media Communications courses. Sharpening our mental blades with each other is a love language.
Continue reading You Know What? Don’t.
The good news: I am on a writing tear.
The bad news: it’s to the detriment of literally everything else in my life, including my two blogs.
All this time I’ve been whining and petitioning (the universe, my muse, my sense of discipline? Idk. I’ve been begging somebody) for the words to return, I forgot how demanding The Muse can be when she arrives.
Cooking meals? Exercise? A stop on my evening commute for anything but popping open SimpleNote to fix that nagging paragraph? Returning texts? Answering phone calls?
We no do none of that.
Continue reading Possessed by the Muse
It started with one “Here’s what I’ve been up to for the last 40 days” post after Lent. I swore I wouldn’t go back to my old “hours spent on Instagram” ways — I didn’t even like Instagram. And those 40 days of blogging, scrolling the random, artsy photos of strangers in my VSCO feed, connecting with friends via text, and saving my clever quips for my journal… They’d brought out the best in me. A me who made stuff she liked, consumed content she enjoyed, and didn’t need her friends to applaud her pursuits to feel good about them.
Continue reading The Backslide