I zeroed in on the woman front row and center in the choir whose tongue was bright blue from recently departed blowpop. Every time she opened her mouth to sing, the sight of it made me tap my cousin and little sister, point like a five-year-old and chuckle. Or the teenaged gents from the funeral home marching down the aisle like the drum majors in my high school band to place a replica of a crown near her hand. What teenager works at a funeral home anyway? I wondered how they told their friends flipping fries at McDonalds or hocking goods at the mall what they did on the side. But hey, insurance isn’t the most glamourous job in the world either, is it? Continue reading
It’s been a month–nay, a month and two days to be exact–since I last attempted to write absolutely anything. In the chaotic hub-bub of daily life, it seems somehow, someway that (gasp) writing has somehow fallen to the bottom of this writer’s to-do-list. A dearly departed laptop (RIP), the birth of a new job and an undercover mission to nab a husband, MBA and billion bucks over the next couple of years will toss blogging to anybody’s backburner.
So then why am I here in the wee hours of the morning wiping the crusty sleep from my eyes while typing 10 words a minute beneath the glow of a five-year-old desktop screen. Because I miss hearing my own voice. Or rather seeing my voice on page. I was literally lying in bed, tossing and turning and simply became outraged with myself for giving up my tongue so easily.
And no–cutely crafted emails to coworkers or organizations I’m involved in don’t count.
I have raw thoughts that need to be seasoned, penned, edited and eaten or risk rotting. And If I have to sacrifice an hour or two of sleep to keep it in my diet, so be it.
If no one reads a single word I write, the knowledge that they exist in the everlasting galaxy of the internet offers some slice of solace, some sliver of promise of my offering to society.
So as the clock blares half past two, I’m up “eating my elephant” little by little, piece by piece, word by word.
Neh-nah-nah-neh-neh, the golden retriever seemed to yelp as it raced back and forth outside a chain-linked fence causing the pair of dogs inside to bark frenetically. You can’t get me, the oddly peppy dog implied. The sight stopped me in my tracks. The sole difference between the animals was their status in the human world: on one side stood an abandoned stray, on the other two pets with owners. But that distance embodied by the rattling fence made them enemies. Continue reading
The layer of litter iced Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard; Remnants of the morning’s South Dallas festivities. It seems like every metropolitan city in America has a street with the civil rights leader’s namesake. Usually it’s housed in the roughest side of town smack dab in the middle of raging poverty and unemployment. The irony. I thought about this when I stumbled across King’s old black and white mugshot. The defiance in his eyes offered a hint of challenge to the King I was introduced to many Februarys ago in elementary school, one armed only with a dream and a Bible and a big voice.
Celebrating another year of living his dream.
Scents of turkey, pies and everything in between captured my family’s room this morning. Before we ripped apart the gifts under the Christmas tree (I felt like such a kid again), and between helping put the final trims on Christmas dinner and cleaning up the house in anticipation of afternoon guests, I paused to pen this story.
I haven’t named it yet but it’s based on a prompt on Writer’s Digest.com that asked writers to write about following an elf on the shelf after they discovered he had stolen money from their wallet, in 500 words or less. I had trouble picturing myself or any adult following a wooden elf in pursuit of cash, but wrote my rendition below. Enjoy and merry Christmas everyone. Continue reading
Planes are flying boxes of chocolate: You never know what you’re going to get. When travelling to a destination layered with layovers, the odds are against you. The likelihood that you’ll land a seat next to that one type of person that you spend your entire life trying to avoid double. My flight to Las Vegas was a perfect example. Continue reading
Sniff. Sniff. Smell that? That sweet aroma floating into your nostrils is the incomparable scent of freedom, independence, liberty and all things American: the new car smell. I became nearly drunk off the swigs of new faux leather emanating in the Texas heat as I drove off the Volkswagen lot a month ago. Continue reading