There’s a heart upon the hill

I’ve been thinking for quite some time about the best way to write this without seeming self-satisfied or preachy, but haven’t come up with anything particularly brilliant, so I’m just going to write it and see how it turns out.

For most of my life, I’ve thought of my body as something immutable, a vehicle . . . → Read More: There’s a heart upon the hill

It’s not the long walk home that will change

Since the concert, I can’t stop listening to Mumford & Sons. At work, at home, on my iPod as I’m walking. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this fixated on an artist, an album.

Part of it was definitely the concert, made memorable both by the music and by the violent, prolonged thunder-and-hail-storm . . . → Read More: It’s not the long walk home that will change

We had a promise made

I like the beach best, I realize, when it is cold and desolate, devoid of the mingled smells of sunscreen, sweat, and salt. Most people never see it in that empty state, but during this high holiday of the sun-worshipers I feel supremely out of place. For one thing, I’m pale enough that I practically . . . → Read More: We had a promise made

Walk on by me

It’s Thursday, and it was only this morning that I greeted my alarm with something other than a groan. This past weekend (Saturday-Monday) was great fun, but rather exhausting. Saturday: thrifting (yay!); a wonderfully long concert, the highlight of which was Scythian, my new favorite live band; driving home from Baltimore. The latter was complicated . . . → Read More: Walk on by me

You’re sending smoke signals

I swam three more miles this week than I did last week, and walked home from the pool through a light drizzle, singing to myself in a husky, breathless voice. Now, hair sleek with water, my mind is still full of swimming. Usually the time I spend in the pool is quiet and contemplative, my . . . → Read More: You’re sending smoke signals

I held my breath and I kicked my legs and I moved my arms around

We drive home through a downpour, rain beating fiercely on the windshield. Each time we go under a bridge it’s like coming up for air, a gasp of silence before the assault resumes. Lightning cracks the nearby sky.

…and then, ever so slowly, it subsides. I think of Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude, which I have been . . . → Read More: I held my breath and I kicked my legs and I moved my arms around

Under a cherry blossom tree

The grass is bright green, the sky’s bright grey, and the weekend is finally here. Earlier in the week, on our first or second day, someone told us that if we weren’t incredibly relieved to see Friday arrive, they hadn’t done their job right.

They definitely did their job right.

I’m lucky, actually—I started on . . . → Read More: Under a cherry blossom tree


So after a fairly arduous application process (including the programming assignment mentioned earlier) I’ve accepted a job offer from OPOWER, a company that works with utilities to reduce people’s energy consumption. (Click through, though–the web site is very informative and well-designed.) I’ll be doing this job, working with data and databases. I’m very excited: I . . . → Read More: Employed!

Radio turns to gold

The rhythmic thudding of the bass is mesmerizing. It vibrates through my whole body, but I feel it most clearly in my breastbone, as though there were a second, more powerful heart beating in my chest.

I’m standing directly in front of the stage, pressed against the metal railing, shielded from the crowd behind me . . . → Read More: Radio turns to gold

Reach your hand out for an iron ring

A drizzly day. Without alarm, sunlight, or plans to wake me, I sleep until eleven, the gentle drips of the raindrops and the dull silver light lulling me back to sleep whenever I think of getting out of bed. As soon as I vacate my spot the cats take over, both of them sprawling across . . . → Read More: Reach your hand out for an iron ring