Remembering and not remembering.

The third-worst job I ever had involved a lot of dread. Dread and anxiety and pressure and deadness and agonizing wishing it would end. Maybe not as full-of-dread as the Moroccan mafia toy import company, and maybe not as full-of-deadness as the assembly line. But the...

A brief interview with my blog.

Yes. Yes. And we begin. Me: So, you’re my blog. My blog: Yes. Me: I wish you had a name I could call you. My blog: Okay. Pause. If I think of something I’ll let you know. Me: Isn’t it a little weird that we hang out six times a week and I’ve...

On PTSD.

Yesterday morning I had a moment. The simplest trigger: at a cafe, an old framed portrait on a white wall that reminded me of something from then. And I was off. Cycles of panic, terror, helplessness, pain, fear. And then I came back. Doing the things that help me be...

Oh boy it’s the vacation monster.

Yep. Talking to my monsters again. Last time it was the Skabbatical monster and the Book monster. Then on Official Pirate Queen Holiday I had the best idea for the most perfect thing ever: a long, sweet writing vacation. Not just going on Skabbatical but being...
The Fluent Self