The blog

The 2024 Eagles football season is one for the storybooks. Years-long redemption arcs, second chances, relentless perseverance in spite of relentless adversity — and really, really good ball.

Being a long time Philadelphian is to be forcibly exposed to football, but this year I got really hooked — on my own terms. Obsessed. I'm even looking forward to Draft Night 2025.

I've been gradually becoming obsessed with sports in adulthood. Learning about the physical, intellectual, and psychological complexity of each sport feeds my respect and curiosity. Getting to know the unique winding journeys of individual players — season to season, game to game, or even day to day — reveals that the whole process is a lot like mine or anyone else's who is trying to make something of themselves and their talents. Through the 2024 Eagles season I saw and learned so much about life that goes beyond entertainment and inspires me in my own day to day.

Without further ado...

Prompt: Write a 55 word story about clothing

Way out

She shook her pouch like a maraca and adjusted her coat. Crunch. Warm and dry. She rigged it from thread, tape, and space blankets littered after the city’s marathon last month. The garment looked silly but soon produced local envy and the start of a little business. Jingle. These coins would be her way out.

Every month my writing group convenes for 90 minutes. 30 mins of shooting the breeze, 30 mins of creative writing, and 30 minutes of sharing. This is the result.

Prompt: Write a story that includes 3 sounds I hear around me

Kkkkk...kkk...kkk... 2 weeks away. Week over week, the familiar static had become a pavlov's bell for a little snooze as she lay heavy and horizontal. Today, though, sleep was chased just out of reach by a spike of anxiety.

"Aww. Look at her little toes." Sure enough, all 5 on each foot: a relief for her dark imagination. Kkk...kkk...clang! She flinched. The sticky wand just slipped from the doctor's hand onto the metal cart.

"Well, everything looks great Hannah. That's it. Your last checkup before delivery. If you have no further questions, I'll leave you to get dressed and wish you luck!" After a few exchanged thanks, the door clicked close. Hannah and her forever companion together, alone.

I wrote this short story on the back of a receipt in a bustling bar with a record player. It was inspired by an extended family member that was due any day.

I wrote this poem for the Heritage Dance Project with Group Motion Dance Company in late 2020. At that time, as for many, I felt broken. My body, my identity, creativity, all felt so foreign to me. I struggled with the project's prompt to explore my heritage through dance, song, and text. Still, with encouragement, I forced myself to try. To attempt moving and expressing again, and see what happened. Within those awkward attempts, I found some simple truths I could write about honestly: how dancing/moving feels to me and how the process of doing improv dancing had wider wisdom and questions for me. 3 years later, I find the strong visuals in this text force me into breath and movement as I read it. I hope it can help you find the same.

A Dance Meditation

When I shut off the mind voice,
the devil,
the angel on my shoulders,
the worried idle prattle,
I breathe into my body.
Feel the cool air flow into my nasal cavity,
slide down and warm into my lungs.

Breathe out.

I picture the air radiate outward into my lowering shoulders,