Mis·an·thro·py (mis-an-thruh-pee, miz-) noun: hatred, dislike, or distrust of humankind (“misanthropy,” n.d.). I hate people. I really do. They disappoint me constantly. They annoy me. They live recklessly and selfishly and destroy good things. Many days, I believe I would be happiest living in a little mountainous cave far, far away from them all. This makes … More Misanthropy and “Hey, I’ve Been There” — or, I Hate You, But I Love You
Harry is a pal from college whose effortless acceptance of art in his life is something I often quite covet for my own. Harry graduated a year before me and was off to Nashville for the beginnings of his next adventures. As our individual stories are forged far and wide, across the country and into … More I Miss You
I love air travel. There are so many aspects of it that have captured my heart since my very first flight. It’s the idea of changing scenery for a moment. It’s the stories to be created on the other side. It’s knowing who is waiting at your destination with the sole intention of taking you … More Nancy Pokres (June 27, 1936 — July 31, 2012)
A few weeks ago, I was standing in line at the post office after work. My friend had walked there with me. The walk from my work to the post office near Union Station is one of my favorites, especially on days that are like perfectly ripe summer plums — those days where I find … More Kindness and Letters. Letters and Kindness.
Love them or hate them, I can’t deny Train of their bewitching way with words. Now that she’s back from that soul vacation, tracing her way through the constellation… Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet? Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day, and head back … More Soul Vacation
I looked out of the small airplane window and I smiled. Then my eyes smiled. Then my ears. Then my chest and my elbows and my hands and my knees and my toes and then all the way back up to my nose, smiled. Euphoria took over my entire body and I wanted to jump … More The Californian Diaspora
When my uncle was in town a few weeks back, we met downtown for dinner and grand conversation. On the night walk back to the metro, in light of one of our discussions, he said something along the lines of — when it’s all over, all that’s really left are the stories we can tell. (I … More The Faces (and stories) of Our Nation’s Capital