Rolling the half-full garbage can to the curb, I could feel it wobble as the contents moved around on the inside. The weight was shifting. If it were empty, there would be no weight to shift around– therefore there would be fewer wobbles. If it were full, the space inside would be minimal– therefore there …

A car on a jack, revving its wheels at maximum RPM, and getting nowhere. Sometimes that’s what a day feels like. Spinning, making noise, being loud. The road doesn’t meet the rubber. Instead, you have to drop the car , let the tires hit the road, and steer like you’re going some place.

Waiting or resting? The activity is the same, but the intent differs. Either can imply doing nothing, being inactive, being paused. But with waiting, there’s the anticipation that something will happen. Depending on what that something is, waiting can be tiring and even anxiety inducing. Waiting to hear back from a job or a doctor …

Ever get the feeling that every action is just another cover up story for something more devious, something dirty, something to be kept secret until the timing’s right? I hope not, because living that way seems dark. To second guess each person’s intentions; to faithlessly utter words that shout but have no evidence; to look …

Editing

Picking the next big project to edit. With two first drafts to two different novels written, it’s difficult. One seems conceptually stronger while the other has a more complex range of characters, living in two distinct cultures. I’m getting through the decision making process, but just need to re-read and think about which story wants …

Reading some essays about the Nation at Risk Report that was published 40 years ago. Astounding how little has been effective since its publication. So far, the recommendations still resonate, but very little was implemented. The biggest miss is that it doesn’t go beyond what’s quantifiable. While we look at the academic outcomes and the …

I just experienced one of those ghost feelings that comes accompanied with an image. I’m huddled in a room, with a blanket close to my ear, maybe 4 years old. I look a little lethargic– my skin the color of old oatmeal, all color washed away. I’ve probably been echoing on the inside. I’m trying …