FULL-SPECTRUM COLOR

It’s perhaps ironic that, as a communications professional, I find it extremely challenging to conjure up the right words to say in times like these. I am deeply heavy-hearted at the outcome of this U.S. election and what it means for so many of the people and issues I care about.

Only famous people write memoirs, right? That’s usually the thinking. I’m not famous. But in my mind, I have a memoir written. It is a memoir of the fifty years that brought me to this day. Fifty years of memories etched into my mind and my body. My fifty years on this plane of existence […]

Every year when the calendar turn from August into September comes around, I find myself musing on the lyrics to a certain song about summer. It’s a lush, sappy song, dripping with poetry, femininity, and metaphor. It’s rather schmaltzy, but I do like it. Whereas earlier in the summer, you’ll find me soaking in the celebratory sounds of 80’s music, reminiscing to songs that defined the summers of my youth, late summer always brings to the surface this quintessential end-of-summer song.

I’ve been seeing stars lately. Lots of them. Not in the sense that I’m encountering dizziness or vision problems or that I’ve been hit over the head with anything. But metaphorically speaking, a shift in vision has occurred. I am not the same person I was. I have been seeing stars in the night sky, a whole array of tiny radiances beaming out from the blackened blue heavens, arranged in the shape of stories and myths.