Category Archives: 10 Minute Sprint


Everyday. Ten Minutes. No stopping. Barely edited.

It’s only day three and too soon to give up. I had a haunting dream last night. And it haunted me all day. A little girl was mad, because things hadn’t gone her way. Is she my subconscious or is she someone real? She said I was supposed to be her mother. That I had to make things right and find her. I promised I would. I would find her, wherever she is. She said she didn’t know where she was going now. I told her I would find her. I would adopt her if she ended up in the wrong place or I would bring her into this world with my own body. Somehow. I don’t know if she’s already here somewhere or if she’s still waiting.

I have complicated feelings about motherhood. Because I know it’s in the cards for me. But I just don’t know how. There are many ways to be a mother.

I had visions of all the places this girl could be born. In Syria, in Africa, in Detroit, in Haiti, in Mexico, next door, or with me in a hospital with any number of men who could be her father. Any path could bring her to me.

Or maybe she is me. The me that is young, and wild, and free. Little girls are the strongest kind of people I know. They’re creative and resilient. They don’t mind skin knees and they hang upside down.

I’m afraid of motherhood. I don’t know if I want to have a little girl because I want to be a little girl again. I don’t want to worry what people think. I want to wear leggings and oversized t-shirts and pigtails.

I want to laugh and invent games with my friends and check out piles of books from the library.

I want to roll in the grass with my dog. I want the world where the only thing I had to blog about was puppies and the cast of Harry Potter. And quizzes about what kind of fruit I am.

I’m lucky because my childhood is not dead. My childhood friends are still close. Connected through social media and visits once or twice a year but always in my heart.

Little girls bend and do the splits like it’s nothing. Well, not me, I’ve never been able to touch my toes. Not even in grade school. But still, the sentiment of flexibility is there. But I’ve always had too much tension.

My body is full of tension and it finally caught up to me. It keeps me from doing all the things I want to. I don’t know if my small frame and strained muscles will ever be a home for new life. I never quite feel comfortable or free. But that’s a feeling that can come from within, despite the physical pain, we can be comfortable with ourselves.

I bought a house.

Everyday. Ten Minutes. No stopping. Unedited.
I don’t like poetry, but I do like spacing out lines…

I bought a house
Because I was suddenly homeless
So it seemed like the smart thing to do.

It has a great backyard
With a broken fence
And the cutest rooms
With slanted floors
And unsafe windows

Many things were surprisingly easy to fix
And many things are still broken

I live in a broken house
But I am broken too
And it was there for me
When I needed a roof

I bought a house
With a driveway that’s all cracked
And a garage door that won’t close
Or once it’s closed, it won’t open

The cabinets are ugly
But basically new
The lighting is fancy
And hard to replace
But easier when
You actually buy the right bulb

I was mad at first
That I left my nice house
For this.
It’s old and unloved
And garbage was left behind
That the water isn’t soft
And makes my hair a mess

But now I see
That this broken house is just like me
I moved in and was broken
And some things in me are easy to fix
And some are now permanently slanted
The foundation has changed
But that doesn’t mean
I can’t hold myself up

They tore up the walls
And dug up the ground
To make the windows bigger
“The wound is the place
Where the light enters you.”

This place is not permanent
Not a forever home
Because there’s no forever
No certainty in life anymore

But it is a place that was there
When I needed it most

And how can I be mad at this
imperfect house
When it’s

Being a Writer

Everyday. Ten Minutes. No stopping. Unedited.
[Was going to try for 25 minutes but the attention span is too short].

I call myself a writer, but what am every day that passes that I do not write?

Just a thinker.

A conspirer.

The ideas never go away. They can’t leave because they haven’t been released. They swirl and swirl until they become a fog. They flash like lightning, begging to be noticed. Begging to be tamed and brought inside.

I know if I wrote every day I’d be just as happy as if I ran every day. It’s different kinds of endorphins. Or maybe it’s exactly the same. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.

Which makes it that much scarier to try. Because trying means failing. And what happens when you fail at the thing you love the most?

It’s a feeling I know too well.

Once you lose the thing most important to you and survive it almost feels like you can do anything.

And failing is succeeding but it never feels that way. It feels like stabs in the heart. But your heart never stops beating even when it takes a beating. It pumps and pumps more blood to the wounds. Blood that fills your ears and your head. Heartbeats that are too fast and send your body into panic…but they keep you alive. Even when that’s the last thing you want.

The critics are everywhere now. Everyone has a keyboard.

There was a story I tried to write several times. I thought it was my story to tell. But they took it and revised it down to the bones.

Almost every time someone’s had told me I had a bad idea it ended up being a good one.

And so many ideas that I thought were good were very bad.

My worst ideas were some of my favorite ones.

Writing is only good if you’re vulnerable. And being vulnerable is hardest, best thing in the world. So when you write you get to do the hardest and the best thing in the world. But also you have to.

I’ve written everywhere. On planes, in cars, in bed, in bathtubs, on park benches outside of theaters, and anywhere else you can eat green eggs and ham. Besides being the hardest thing to do it is the easiest thing to do. It’s as easy as breathing…for someone who has asthma.