“I post most often about political matters over on twitter, but when I post them on Instagram or Facebook I’m always amazed by how many people say some version of “stick to writing,” as if writing can ever be separate from politics.  Like our literature, our lives are never apolitical, even if we believe them to be.  We are always making a choice to see or not see, to speak against or for, to call out injustice in others and examine it in our own hearts, minds, and actions, or to pretend it doesn’t exist.  I’m horrified by the beliefs expressed by the white nationalists who marched on Charlottesville this weekend, but I am not surprised by them.  Their protest was a display of bigotry that runs all the way back to our nation’s beginning.  Their words of hatred and their violent actions are the death rattle of those who have been (and still are) the beneficiaries of white male heterosexual power in the face of a society — yes, that’s still us — who at least aspires to equality and tolerance.  They are angry because they know they’re losing.  They are carrying those furious torches because they know the darkness of their story will never light the way.  We light it every day by choosing love over hated [sic], kindness over cruelty, generosity over fear.  There are not two sides.  There is no other way.”

via @cherylstrayed.

i have read several posts on my Facebook feed from supporters of the president that read like they would have us turn our attention away from the underlying hatred that has become more and more apparent in this country.  while i agree that there are a great many things our nation should be concerned with like education and the economy, i don’t think that we can turn a blind-eye to racism and domestic terrorism.  we all have to agree that white nationalism has no place in our society.  we all have to agree that divisive symbols of racism and oppression, like the confederate flag, have no place in our society.  i’m not saying we forget our nation’s history.  i’m saying we learn from it.  we become better citizens, better neighbors, better humans, because of it.  we teach our children and grandchildren that hate doesn’t always win, because in case anyone forgot, the confederacy lost.  jim crow lost.  segregation lost.  let’s not backtrack now.

so today’s #mondaymantra is a call-to-arms.  it’s a plea that you allow yourself to be angered by the hatred spewed by a small group of small-minded people.  it’s a hope that you always speak up against oppression, against prejudice, against racism.  and that you act against it in peaceful and respectful ways.  and that someday we find ourselves never having to have this conversation again.

home [excerpts from a book i’ll never write – sixteen].

home is not where you live.

home is where you decompress.  home is a safe haven.  home is four sturdy walls that protect you from the things that go bump in the night while you dream, dreams.

you live outside of your home.  you live on the trails you hike, in the coffee shops where you stop to read or write the next great novel.  you live on family vacations or road trips with your best friend.  you live in beer gardens, or museums, or on bodies of water.

what are you afraid of? [excerpts from a book i’ll never write – fifteen]

what are you afraid of? they asked.

i answered, that i’d fall for a man who makes me feel whole again, tames my wild, and i crumble in on the words that get left unwritten.

because my muse is my chaos; i need it to breathe.

they say if you are feeling blocked, you should free-write for thirty minutes a day.  i know if i did that i’d fill up notebook after notebook with you.  your words, your eyes, the way you’d kiss the top of my head when you hugged me tight, and i can’t.  i can’t write that – it’s like sleeping with the ghost of you.

will i lose my voice, because i can’t stop hearing yours?

letters to my future love.

i just want to be the person you think of at 5 pm, as you’re leaving work and looking for your next adventure.

call me darling in the mornings.  “get your ass up and out of bed, darling.  it’s time to start your day.”  ‘babe’ will suffice for all further daily interactions.  my first name only when your cross with me.  or i’m engulfed in a book and haven’t heard you speaking to me for the last ten minutes.  i suppose it would be appropriate then.

dance with me, even if you don’t know how to.  i’ll teach you, i promise.  but if i can’t refuse the urge to move when a good song comes on, how could you not be moved by that, as well?  as harry connick jr.’s character says in one of my favorite movies, “a dance is just a conversation between two people.” (it’s hope floats, by the way – be prepared to watch it often.)

and always, always choose those extra few moments on sunday mornings curled up beneath the covers with me – it’ll make all the difference.


hope.  it keeps us young.  it reminds us of christmas eve’s spent not able to sleep for want of catching santa, or that first crush that resulted in a first kiss that stole our breath away, or the anticipation of opening an acceptance letter from our first choice university.

hope is the one thing we can never have enough of.  it’s the only thing we can hold on to, when all else has failed, the universe has failed us, love has failed us…

without hope, we’d forget that the sun rises on a new day tomorrow and that true love is worth waiting for and that we need to put in the work to achieve the dreams that come at the darkest hours of our nights.

hope keeps me waiting for you, to show up, love in your eyes and adventure in your heart, ready to dance every night away with me.

don’t let hope go, y’all.  hold on to it with every inch of your eternal being, because hope will last long after we’re gone, and will carry on in the legacies we leave behind.



i’ve always loved these end of the week posts.  sometimes it’s just nice to have a spot to recap my week, or talk about the things i’m looking forward to in the upcoming weekend.  so, let’s keep doing this, yes?

here’s what i love about this summer…i’ve spent an inordinate amount of time outdoors, at the lake, river, or pool.  that has translated into me getting super-tan, like probably the darkest i have ever been.  consequently, this has allowed me to go without makeup…which is awesome.  i may not look my age, but my skin looks and feels great (as i’m writing this i’m starting to worry i might be tempting fate).  it has been hellishly hot here in san antonio, making it a little unpleasant to be outdoors if your not lounging beside some body of water, so i foresee a lot of this happening from here on out, until the end of the season.

we are at the tail-end of the paralegal certification course, which coincides with my family vacation to los angeles.  i have to admit, i’m quite excited to do touristy type things, without having to think about homework or quizzes or research.  it’ll be nice to read for fun and not feel guilty about not reading my textbook.  if you have suggestions for things to do and places to see in l.a., send them my way!


the one you’ll never have [excerpts from a book i’ll never write – fourteen].

i want to tell him that i think he’s handsome and a handful and that i’m probably already half-drunk in love with him, but i don’t.

and in this one thing, the fear wins and it consumes me.  because to do so, to lay all my feelings bare, would be to drop a million walls, and wage a losing war, already knowing that he cannot feel the same.