Tag Archives: writing

A Toolbox Full of Quotes

I don’t know that I have one quote I live by. I have more of a rotating collection, depending on what kind of foolishness the day has decided to bring me. Continue reading

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My Brain Apparently Works the Night Shift

The world gets quiet, ideas finally show up, and suddenly my brain wants to do its best work — usually at exactly the hour when I should be asleep. Continue reading

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A Welcome Break from Risk Assessment

After two straight days of writing about risks, I’m grateful for a question that allows a little more room to breathe — and maybe a better conversation too. Continue reading

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Fifteen Minutes of Recovery

Sometimes unwinding means silence. Sometimes writing. Sometimes a noisy massage chair that still knows exactly where the day left its mark. Continue reading

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Social, But Not Exactly

Social media gave people permission to announce things they once wisely kept to themselves—and somehow convinced them the rest of us were waiting eagerly for the update. Continue reading

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My First Thought Was Not Complimentary

The first thought that came to mind was not noble, poetic, or especially flattering to the prompt itself. But first thoughts rarely arrive polished—and that may be exactly why they tell the truth. Continue reading

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Ten Years Is a Long Way to See Clearly

Ten years sounds simple until you realize how little of life ever unfolds exactly the way you pictured it. Continue reading

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Five Ordinary Things That Quietly Make Life Better

Some of the best parts of life are small enough to miss: a quiet classroom, an easy conversation, a settled dog, a good sentence, and the first sign that the day is finally exhaling. Continue reading

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The Job I’d Gladly Take (If Bills Didn’t Exist)

If money were no object, I know exactly what job I’d gladly do: watch movies early, write honest reviews, and tell people whether a film is truly worth their time — without pretending every comedy needs to be analyzed like philosophy. Continue reading

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If Something Had My Name on It

If something carried my name, I wouldn’t want it to be just a building or a street people pass without noticing. If it means anything, it ought to connect to something useful, lasting—or at least something properly aged. Continue reading

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