I’ve had a corporate job of one kind or another since moving to NYC in 1995. Back then, I called them “Survival Jobs” or, more frequently, "Day Jobs." As if I had some spectacular artist-life during the evening hours. I didn’t - but I sure thought about it a lot. I wanted to write. I wanted to tell stories. I wanted to sing and get better at the guitar and maybe write songs. But, that all seemed scary and fantastical. I needed to be practical. I needed dental. I had to focus

I’m a toddler, finally sleeping in a big-girl bed, long tucked in for the night. My parents are working late at the bar, leaving my 4 older sisters in charge. As they get ready for bed themselves, some still doing homework, they see a yellow blur streaking down the hall. Then, footie pajama-covered footsteps thumping down the stairs. Moments later, the familiar strains of tv theme music drift upward. One of the girls confronts me, hand on hip, saying “What do you think you’re

Coming into 2019, I made a radical decision: No New Year's resolutions. It’s radical because, like many people, I have been resolving to improve myself annually, if not daily, since I was 11 years old. Usually, the resolutions are around my physical body. Specifically, the reduction of it through a variety of restrictive diets, cleanses, “clean eating” regimens, challenges, etc. For most of my life, the size of my body has been the first thing I think about in the morning and

January is the natural time when we feel compelled to start fresh. It’s named for Janus, a Roman god who symbolizes beginnings, transitions, doorways, All that cool clean slate, fresh start stuff. But unlike September, when I get the urge to buy school supplies, January sends me to bed- literally. I could sleep the day away under my weighted blanket (have you heard of this? Game changer. This deserves its own post. Stay tuned for that.). I look at January as training for Febr