Spring done sprung!!!

Today isn’t quite the sunny spring Saturday that I hoped it would be, but I can’t quite call it grey. The sun hides behind the sky, turning its grey into a luminous white. I’m content today to sit at my desk with the spring floating in through my half-open window, grateful that I’m not one of those for whom the outdoors becomes a war zone of misery. The flowers that litter the ground, and the pollen that cakes every car are for me welcome signs of spring. My soul is undressed as is my body in the leaving of wintry layers and I crave adventure like my skin craves the sun.

I did it. I survived my first New York winter. And it really wasn’t all too bad. I kind of even enjoy having a real winter season, without the “snow” {freezing rain, sleet, hail} that we get down south. The magic of spring is all the more magical after the memory of its existence has been buried beneath cumbersome cold-weather layers.

Unencumbered and uncovered, I’m leaving my winter hibernation behind… along with my virtual absence these past two months. I’m saying yes to every question that grants yes as a possible answer. I’m beginning an adventurous romp through all the different playgrounds that are this city, full of gratitude that a day off here is ripe with limitless possibility.

A response to the query that every mid 20’s, semi-adult habitually avoids

He told me, if I was an artist,
you’d be my muse.
I smiled, blushed, and said thank you.
Later he asked me:
“What are you doing here?” I answered: “I like the city,
so I came.”
Then he asked, “What’s your dream? If you could do anything,
what would it be?”
And I confessed, I don’t know.

The question what do you want
still evades me. Because the answer, for me
has no concrete object.
It has lines & shapes, colors and images…
Details, but no whole.
I know
that I like words, and toying with their construction.
I like poetry
because of the way poems inhabit the space of a moment, freeing that moment
from its temporal boundaries.
But I can’t say whether I dream of publishing a novel that rocks people’s worlds,
because my mind can’t yet fathom a space that grand.

I can feel the textures of my future life,
but the thoroughfares of their manifestation elude me.
I believe in meaningful, passionate work, and direction, and I want to seize all of that
but right now
I’m finding meaning in an hourly wage, hospitality job where I know well my role and that my role is a valued, important part of a whole; a whole full of inspiring colors and characters.
I relish my detours and diversions, small moments & random joys
I surrender to the uncertainties and ambiguities –
their sum the most exquisite aggregate.

Hello world!


Delighted to have you with me as I dive into the digital realm of writing and publishing. Thus marks the inauguration of my first stab at New Year’s Resolution #1: write more.

It’s January 2015 and I’m right smack in the middle of my 20’s. I celebrated my quarter century birthday back in the fall and have been living in New York City now for about four months; more specifically, way the fuck out in Brooklyn. And not the fancy part where boutiques and restaurants abound, but in a neighborhood that most haven’t even heard of. Ironically, I enjoy the quiet.

A little over a year ago, I was beginning my last semester of college, studying abroad in Western France. Now, my southern constitution is doing battle with its first real winter. I’ve called North Carolina home for the past 14 years and a home it will always be, but the energy of this city has excited and incited me for years.  And so, after a final summer spent in NC, on front porches and back porches, in the company of honeysuckle and lightning bugs, I made the transition from frequent visitor to resident of NYC.

When friends and family ask “how’s New York?!” the best response I can give is – it’s weird…but good. It’s exciting to inhabit a place that harbors the same spirit of adventure I found in Europe, yet the endless possibility for discovery is both inspiring and overwhelming. Contrasted with the desire to make a home, to make a life and find your place, it can leave you feeling lost. The problem is that my home is with the hearts of Greeks and Poles, Aussies and Irish. And of course, Frenchies.

In an effort to find my place, I’m beginning an act of perspective through a parallel of numbered time. I’ll revisit my writings during my five months in France, a year later, alongside the happenings of my present. I’ll go back as a way of going forward, attempting to understand why my time abroad was so good, and reaching for the best possible now.

Follow me on my quarter-century crisis journey, on this circular meshing of time and place, as I seek to clarify the abstract of my unknown future.