Writing is a night spent eyes-closed, tucked in, awake. It’s a sluggish, arduous process so exhausting I never even bother rereading the stuff I spout until potentially rediscovering it a year later.

(Production Design)

You can enjoy yourself, but something else is definitely going on here.

To write a memoir is to admit I have a lesson to share with the world. But sometimes, I just need to write something for the Me who won’t remember writing it at all.

Midnight rumblings of my hamster Fluffy

Who were this year’s Super Bowl commercials meant for?

Paper Fashion in the 1920s & 1960s

Fabric does not tremble at the thought of wrinkles, so neither will my skin.

I’ve begun observing these spaces with newfound appreciation- each its own sociological microbiome. What better way to know someone than through their stuff?