Today, author Colleen Brunetti posed this request on her Facebook page: as we remember September 11, 2001, with all its darkness and tragedy, please post something good. She didn’t ask for an exhaustive list, and she didn’t place any limits. It didn’t have to be specific to 9/11. Just something good. Continue reading
Somewhere, amid the darkness,
a painter measures a blank canvas,
a poet tests a line aloud,
a songwriter brings a melody into tune.
Art inspires, provokes thought, reflects beauty and pain.
I seek it out even more in these times.
And in so doing, I find hope in the human spirit.
~ Dan Rather (via Twitter)
* * * *
The past couple of weeks have been unusually insane.
From the delightful (taking a dear friend out for his birthday), the exciting (joining a new singing group) and the thrilling (some news you’ll hear about in a later post), to the aggravating (a longtime client who was refusing to honor his promise to pay me at the agreed-upon time), the heartbreaking (my elderly aunt, who lives about 500 miles away and may be in her final days), the frustrating (an as-yet-unscheduled meeting, the scheduling of which I cannot control in any way), and the stressful (a brief to be prepared according to unfamiliar rules and filed in a court I’ve never dealt with), it’s been a whirlwind. So, on Friday night, when I finally received confirmation that the brief had been filed, I declared a holiday weekend. (Since I worked most of Labor Day weekend, I viewed it as comp time.) Continue reading
On Friday, I headed out around mid-afternoon to do a few quick errands. I’d barely started up the hill when I came face to face with the reminder that everything had changed: the flashing red lights of a school bus. Continue reading
As regular readers of this blog have undoubtedly noticed by now, I am not a person of few words. Continue reading
Some outings are better if you go with someone else. Dining out on Valentine’s Day or New Year’s Eve, for example. I don’t know of anyone who would be comfortable as a solo diner in the midst of romantic-themed menus or couples kissing over champagne. I wouldn’t, in any case. Continue reading
Last spring, I applied to a very prestigious writing conference, taught by writers whose work is routinely praised, if not revered, by the literary community. Rationally, I knew acceptance was a long shot. On the other hand, I figured the admissions committee probably wasn’t sitting around at night hoping I might grace them with my presence. The only way I’d have a chance was to apply. Continue reading
Hours may drag, but years race.
Somebody wise has probably said something like that. If they haven’t—well, you read it here first. Continue reading