I’ve been listening to jazz lately. I am continually amazed by how truly adept it is at expressing the complexity of human emotion without words. My current favorite song owns the same title of this post. This song seems to have been written for a Nora Ephron film before Nora Ephron films became a thing. (And apparently, Nora Ephron has been on my mind quite a bit lately. I’ve referenced her on Twitter and Facebook in the last two days.)
We are 21 days into the new year, and I feel pretty good because I didn’t make any resolutions. They’d be broken by now. I just couldn’t deal with the emotional trauma.
Instead, I decided that I was going to stop telling myself to do things and actually start… doing them. (Please pardon the motivational speaker tone of that sentence.) Continue reading
We all have stories. Some are hilarious – shared over breathless laughter. Some stories are nostalgic – taking us to times past when things were different and, seemingly, simpler. Others are heartbreaking – aching with sadness and tears, provoking empathy from listeners as sorrow is shared. For better or worse, these anecdotes are indelibly pressed on hearts and minds, shaping relationships and futures.
I recently went on a cleaning spree in my tiny apartment. Closets were gutted. The monsters under the bed were demystified. Surfaces were dusted until there was no more dust to write messages in. (I know. Gross. I’m ashamed.)
In the process of purge, I found many fascinating things to distract me. The mother load? Old journals and notebooks full of stories. I spent my weekend taking a mortifying trip back to one of the more awkward points of life (high school) and reading stories I wrote in my twenties (hilarious). Continue reading