BY NICOLE CAYER
I went to shopping with my aunt the other day. She was here for vacations and wanted me to show her…
I have always wanted to love more than I knew how to be loved.
I write over 750 words per day at the moment. Normally, over 1000. Most of it is nonsensical, stream-of-consciousness rubbish.
But at least it has taught me how easy it is to write lots of words. I’m nearing the end of today’s entry. It wasn’t too…
There is an African saying, (loosely translated): “if you don’t move you won’t know which is left or right.” In other words, sometimes it’s…
A friend asked me recently:
“What do you do?”
“Oh, I’m a doctor”
I’ll be honest. I’m not sure if I have. There was one occasion but I’m not sure if it was a near death experience
At the time I didn’t feel like it was.
Is it because you saw pictures on Instagram with a computer at the beach? Or you think that’s the next big thing to make money quickly?
What you have to understand is that nothing is gonna make you money quickly without any hard work…
Round balls of ginger molasses dough rolled in sugar and ready for the oven. There will not be…
I have been writing for The Wiregrass Farmer for a few weeks covering Softball. I had the pleasure to get to see these girls blossom. It reminded me of when I was in Softball…
It’s been awhile. A great number of whiles. Actually. One morphs to three which loses count around 14. Maybe more. It’s surprising, the stages of grief. The missing of the craft. The relishing of the time. The welcome respite from obligation.
Bleak. The theme of this afternoons feels.
This is getting so fucking boring.
I mean really, how long must this chest tightening, gut wrenching ache go on for?
As alluded to in previous posts, I have been having a difficult last few days.
Yoga has been known to yank me out of those funks. My last yoga and meditation session was no exception.
