Tagged: writing

Library Lusting.

There are many great combos in life; french fries and ketchup, Batman and Robin, coffee and my mouth, and (drum roll, please) books and sunshine.  It’s the perfect pairing, and this room is a comfortably complete addition to that grouping.   It tidily intersects natural lighting with a handsomely useful workspace, and then throws in the mother of all reading nooks for good measure.  Who wouldn’t love to nestle in that monstrous window seat with a good glass of something, and just disappear into a few hundred pages (or into the view, which I’m imagining is stellar)?  And a fireplace, too?  C’mon, it doesn’t get any better.  This, my friends, is most certainly a book lover’s room.




Poetry – The Sky. 

Sometimes you need to just stop what you’re doing, take a few deep breaths, and look up at the sky.  Let its colors cleanse the palette of your mind.  Put down the phone (unless you’re using it to read this post, wink wink), close the laptop, turn off the computer…or the TV…and relax.  Unplug.  It tends to put things into perspective for me…maybe it will for you too.  Best of days to you all, and thank you for reading.

Poetry – Endurance.

Survival is a beautiful thing.  As is endurance.  This race that we’re all on is a challenging thing; it can eat us up and tear us down just as quickly as it can build us up and see us to the finish line. Our perspectives matter.  Heart matters.  Courage matters.  These building blocks create a focus and a drive that kicks into high gear when survival mode emerges.  We all have it inside of us already, this gritty determination.  The instinct to not only survive, but to thrive, is already there.  Let’s let it shine through. 

Best of days to all!

 

Storytime Saturday, featuring an excerpt from A Million Little Boxes – a work story. 

I decided that I’d refuse to let a building define me. I’d refuse to allow any company, or entity, or job, or anything define who I was as a person. As a human. As a man. The contents of that building did not define my success. My success was not in there. It’s in here. It’s within my chest. Within this soul. I am defined by who I am, and what I do…what I believe and what I feel…what I’m capable of…not by the whim of some fucking corporation. Interestingly, it was brought to my attention that I may be afraid to move forward, that I feared success more than I feared failure. The thought of that shit had me up in arms, like “what?” You’ve got to be kidding me, right? “All I want is success”, I’d tell myself.  But you know what?  Maybe I was.  

Storytime Saturday, featuring an excerpt from A Million Little Boxes – a work story.

The day that my potato exploded in the microwave was an eye opener.  It was a sign…an omen.  A message from the powers that be.  Maybe I’d nuked that fucker for too long, or maybe I just didn’t give a shit.  Either way, that little vegetable bastard decided to commit culinary suicide and blew itself spud first all over the confines of the microwave with a mere five seconds left.  I mean, c’mon…it couldn’t have kept its composure for a measly five more seconds?  Suck it up, god damn it!  I had no money left, I had no lunch, and I was hungry enough to eat the scum out of the bottom of a homeless man’s shoes.
  It was definitely a sign…an omen…a message from the powers that be.