The Baby Competition
“No kids, but four nieces.”
“Well, it’s different when it’s your own kids.”
“No kids, but four nieces.”
“Well, it’s different when it’s your own kids.”
The chance that something I’ve written could be made better paralyzes me into never wanting to publish anything at all. Where’s the joy in that?
This passage is not just about presence but also about the absence that is to come. What the disciples will miss.
It was the worst writer’s block I’ve experienced—not even like pushing a boulder up a hill but like pushing against a wall.
I’m pretty sure this one is McDonald’s’ fault.
I became used to telling people about the bridges I burned, but that’s not quite right.
Nearly all sound consists of God and dew.
And so I watched the first game, where we lost spectacularly with a score of 10-0.
But I’m writing about both, even if they are only connected by gender, because I want you to know them.
I started to wonder if it was wise to trust and admire so many people I didn’t truly know.