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83. Trying to Have a Good Time at Twenty-Five
What if now is a good time to switch back to Apple Music? Pay says that Spotify is getting a little to Artificial Intelligence-y and it takes a woman like her to say a thing like that to get me to think a little bit deeper about all the hand-crafted playlists I traded for algorithm-generated tracks when I made the…
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82. Trying to Keep My Wits about Me at Twenty-Five
In the earliest hours of the morning, this morning, I tossed and turned on Carrie’s gray couch. Up and left, I spotted the southern cross, that great big hemispheric reminder of mine. I turned on my back to the window, tasted the dryness of my mouth, and managed to fall back into a light sleep. Lazily, I swung my feet…
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81. Trying to Let it Land at Twenty-Five
today is a day whose minutes are passing lightly, bouncily. I record a voice memo and it somehow measures 3 minutes and 14 seconds and I could have gone on forever more and maybe it’s because the person on the other side makes me feel like she listens or maybe it’s the caffeine, the sunshine, the tobacco, the waves, the…
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80. The Triangle of Purpose (I Stole This)
My first (and I hope, only) visit to Pittsburgh, PA, USA; my park-path crossed that of two white men, one with a clipboard, the other with an at-home-creator tripod in-hand. They were decidedly harmless enough. My best friend and I consented to their interview and understood their creative mission: anchor the education of America’s youth in each child’s unique purpose.…
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79. Trying to Move to Africa, Softly at Twenty-Five
This morning — if you delineate morning time by technicalities like midnight to mid-day and not as the period that comes only after 8 hours of deep and restful sleep — some feeling wrested me from a light veil of sleep, my head under a Floridian-kind-of-heavy jacket, one too light for the winds of March’s Macaronesian Islands but certainly too…
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78. Trying to Learn Taxes at Twenty-Five
It is not original to moan about the heady frivolity of tertiary education but *disclaimer* I’m about to expose the privilege in my ignorance to tax filing and go on and on about the possibly entirely intentional injustice of their assumption that I magically know what to do with a W-9. It’s also not original to point out that there’s…
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77. Trying to Schedule an Ultrasound at Twenty-Five (it’s impossible)
Today I rose at what felt like the dead of night. A wicked alarm at the foot of my bed came all-too-early: 6 AM to ensure enough time to make room in my bladder for a prescribed 32 ounces of water one hour prior to my ultrasound appointment. I scheduled the appointment for 8 AM on the first Monday of…
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76. Trying To Not Steal at Twenty-Five
On Asteya (non-stealing) On registering desire and attaining the desired through legitimate means Question(s): What am I stealing? What do I want? What drives humans to steal? How can I be of service to you without feeling entitled to your gratitude? Answers?: Greed for money, hunger for attention I hunger to be admired To be the object of your gratitude…
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75. Trying to Tidy a Mess I Did Not Make at Twenty-Five
I used to say that anger didn’t exist in me — I thought I was too good for anger; that it was an emotion reserved for those less evolved than myself and that it was a waste of time I have humbled myself or I myself have been humbled since then I have embarked on a journey into my anger…
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74. Trying to Make Eye Contact at Twenty-Five
Zimbabwe operates on the US dollar but without any coins — this morning, as I strolled across town in a Saturday tardiness, I struggled through my hangover to calculate how much a stop at the seven to eleven convenience store might cost me; here, when I want to buy a plastic bottle of water for 30 cents, I either pay…
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Trying To at Twenty-Five: The Blog 