Waiting
The professor is droning on and on, and I am waiting with adrenaline, caffeine, and the brutal lyrics of Peter Dolving coursing through my veins.
The professor is droning on and on, and I am waiting with adrenaline, caffeine, and the brutal lyrics of Peter Dolving coursing through my veins.
I have been so in love that all the light around me seemed white-hot. I have spent days where I only remember the smell of sunlight and skin. I have said goodbye at train stations in Europe. I have been told to not look back.
Four tablespoons, give or take, of pure, undiluted mayonnaise.
The call for diversity in children’s literature is based on the idea of windows and mirrors.
Grace and peace to you from me, just me. I don’t feel comfortable dragging Jesus into my well-wishing just yet.
I was explaining this to a friend once when he informed me that cheering—or jeering—at a crowd was all about group community. “We rise and fall together, we yell and cry together.”
Local journalism can disappear without so much as a cry these days, and typically with only halfhearted protestation by the community.
In church, there is no need for consent, because the rules are very simple. Before marriage, the answer to any question must always be no; after marriage, yes, always yes.
In the journey of trying to become what I’m not, I’ve been finding out that I am capable of more than I thought.
Trying to teach myself a notoriously difficult language, not to mention how to be a FAMU-worthy filmmaker, honestly sounded easier than not knowing what I was good at.