Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Alluring stranger

I'm in Mexico City for work. A client asked for a training for their Latin America team, reserved a hotel room for me, and had me picked up at the airport. The driver pointed out landmarks on the way and from my room I have a gasp inducing view of this insane, throbbing city. 

It's surreal to become an unintended visitor in the place I grew up in. Like discovering the person you have been sharing your life with is a mysterious, alluring stranger.

Oh, Mexico City

Oh Mexico City. I owe you so much and owe you nothing. I love you and despise you and you captivate and frustrate me. I swear you off and keep coming back and look out the window of the plane when I leave and feel desolation in my heart and cry.

You are by far my unhealthiest relationship.

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Where I begin

My mom told me so many times (and with such ferocity) that my dad loved me above all else that being loved by him became part of my composition.

This photo was taken before he left his home town for the big city. Before he met my mom. Before he became a politician. But he already dreamed of having a daughter so maybe this is where I begin, complete with my love of writing.

I miss him.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Good luck

Once upon a time I was struggling with a job I wasn't getting done. I was telling my best friend how frustrated I felt.
Her: why don't you quit?
Me: because I don't want to walk away feeling like I suck. I want to figure it out and leave feeling that I did what I set out to do.
Her: That makes sense. Good luck letting your ego make your decisions.
Three cheers for friends who don't mince words.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Life is loss

I know for sure without an ounce of tragedy that life is loss. That even the most rooted, solid structures are transitory. That everything will change. That trying to hold on will cause suffering. That letting things go will hurt like hell but that pain will move through you instead of lodging inside you. 

The single thing I wish for myself, and for you, is that you regard the poetry present all around you with open palms. It's not yours to keep. Nothing is. And therein lies its beauty.

No one notices.

There are about 15 people on this bus. A man jumps on, removes all his clothes except for a large blue blazer and sits, naked from the waist down, on every one of the empty seats. He then jumps out.
That's not the part of the ride that feels most like I'm a visitor from another planet. It's the fact that everyone is looking into their phones, so no one notices him.

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Surprise visit

Confessions of a closet introvert: if I really love hanging out with you and you happened to be in my neighborhood and rang my doorbell for a surprise visit it's possible that I would hide until you gave up and left. I profusely apologize in advance.

Monday, May 4, 2015


Confessions of a closet introvert: when we're at a party and I say "do you think it might be time to go babe?" what I really mean is "Code red code red extract extract get me out of here."

Saturday, May 2, 2015


Confessions of a closet introvert: I adore my friends and make plans and then wish they would cancel so I can sit at home and look out the window.