Tag Archives: Taco Bell

On All the Things I’ve Wished I Was

This is pretty much how I see myself in the mirror.

This is pretty much how I see myself in the mirror.

The first inkling of an idea is intoxicating, filled with the promise that this is going to be the idea that changes everything. At that moment, the goal is right in reach and every door is open; this could lead anywhere. But the cold light of day moves the goal line somewhere over the horizon and forces you to pick a door. That door leads to more doors and you don’t always get to go back the way you came. Doors turn into walls and possibilities die. That’s why so many projects remain unfinished—it’s much easier to deal with what they should be rather than what they could be. The ones that do get finished are often hated for what they’re not, until a little distance proves them to be “fine.” Continue reading

“How’s it hanging, McFly?”

Freddy Needle glove

This is pretty much how I remember every flu shot.

Needles are my spiders. Or snakes. Or coconut crabs (actually, coconut crabs are my coconut crabs). Needles are the thing in life that I don’t like. Everyone has something. So when I spent a Monday afternoon alone in the corner of a Denny’s, shooting up in front of a plate of nachos, I was really proud of myself. Continue reading