(For the first chapter of this journey, read “History and the Call to Adventure.”) And so the story’s end begins one December night in Northern Virginia. A few days earlier, I had received the text from my dad who, after a good bout of rumination, saw that the beauty in the idea could not be … More The Chevy and Me, A Hero’s Journey: Crossing the Threshold and Riding with Jesus
It has taken me a long time to write this. Sitting down to do so has been an arduous task. Every time I’ve committed hours of my day to telling this story, to capturing it for eternity into words, I’ve found other projects, tasks, or naps on which to focus. The tale is one that … More The Chevy and Me, A Hero’s Journey: History and the Call to Adventure
Wearing comfortable boots and warm layers, I walked through the chilly night along Massachusetts Avenue towards Thomas Circle. Passing 16th Street, I gazed down rows of city buildings framing the illuminated White House and Washington Monument, icons of American history. I smiled at this quintessential Washington, D.C. moment where I clearly saw where I was … More The Faces Behind HUD’s PIT Count Data
Life is a composition of story arcs. This is one. I first met him one year and one month ago today. I use the term “met” lightly. One year and one month ago today, I was dragging my feet in self-pity up a metro escalator at Union Station. I was hanging my head in disdain … More To Say, I Love You
Writing, for me, is like a MacGyver trick, I suppose. It’s an amalgamation of the random pieces of thought around me. It’s sitting looking at all of them until I see how they all connect to express what I’m feeling. It usually ends with the declaration of, “Maybe it’s about the…” followed by the frantic … More Walking in Wet Stilettos
I have this big, long blog post in the making about my move out of the suburbs. When I get around to writing it, I do hope it will be a lovely intermingling of humor and passion, inspiration and loss, toying with both the endogenous euphoria and despairing nadirs of the 20-something experience. I hope. … More On Booze
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
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
ROUGH OUTLINES 