Tag Archives: Essays


30 Apr

View at Medium.com


29 Apr

View at Medium.com

Remembering something I shared

24 Apr

with students, about ignoring exhaustion. I’m there right now, tired from my 5am writing about which I’m elated passing a thousand words before the day even thought of starting. Have to ignore this fog about my character and sight. Can feel the tired in my face and eyes, legs, and chest for some reason. I’m learning from this. We can all appreciate our efforts and small victories when tired. Test of character I guess but than that. Growth and character, more character. Coherence and balance, definite language like how I instruct essay writing but, strangely, more freedom. More movement and conviction. I can’t explain it.

READER:  Stop.  Do what you see warranted. 

9 Apr

Be not at all concerned with others, no matter how close to you.  Be the author of your story, the producer and director of your film, your reality.  Life, more and more, tells us that it’s brief, that it’s truthfully and cruelly curt.  So why wait.  Why pause.  Why consider and reconsider direction.  Why not just move, why not just leap into the fire.  If you’re measuring and planning, don’t do so to excess.  Actuate.  Become the tangible you have in dreams.  It’s more than a matter of “making” dreams “come true’.  It’s a factual matter of action, movement, conviction and caprice.

End of the semester, approaching Summer, months elevating in temperature (in theory) and we need elevate with our production.  How much we write, how many projects we bring to fruition, quantitative quality.  Not sure what the balance is, but there is an equilibrium we determine.  We pronounce our individualism, in these final weeks.  We show, tell, pronounce and announce.  Time being the wicked prompter, provocateur… but we answer as we wish.  We direct our tellings and truths to our pages, our efforts, our students.  Toward each other.  This is a collective effort as well as an individual one.

from an essay

7 Apr

…finally returning home from the labor place, son still awake and wanting to play.  I gave in and sat with him and joked for a bit.  But now, I just listen to rain.  Just listen, readers… see yourself in some other form, some other plain, plateau, pose and placement.  No that alliteration wasn’t intentional.  Or maybe a bit.  But I’m home, finally collecting the way I want to, not having to dodge all the people at a Starbucks and just sitting down on the floor, which isn’t at all comfortable, and centering in musings.  What I muse over now, life… where I am in it and what my story’s doing.  Feeling like a student again.  Showing up to class, not sure what’s going to happen or what I want my aims to be.  Blending paragraphs and poems, not at all expected but entirely admirable since I’ve decided to further sit and center in my decisions.  I’ve always wanted to be a thinker, a professor, like Dad.  No, he wasn’t a teacher, but a pilot which is galactically more interesting.  But he always struck me as an educator, a Philosophy professor, and he was a Philos’ major.  I see this writer at my aimed-for campus, which I’m not going to again reverb, offering postulates on those questions, what’s posed in Coelho’s work—

Shorter sentences are punctuating

6 Apr

pulses of self, jabs that most often land and have integral impact. Longer sentences are haymakers that often lose and contribute little to your writing.


2 Apr

This writer’s chemistry and ideological geography, peerless for Day 1 of week.  Drawing my time as I see it needing to be drawn and laid before me.  Do the same.  Do the same for you and what you want.  Write what you want over and over… cover a page of your journal with one singular aim.  Start with that.  Newborn week, newborn ideas, possibilities, dreams and visions and embodiment of YOU, reader.  Travel, grow, if not physically then through thought.  All is plausible, possible, likely with your thoughts.  With new thoughts, on a new day, in a new week.