Follow My Read

“Say it isn’t so,” I think as I examine myself in the mirror.  And yet, no matter how hard I wish it weren’t true, it is.  It is, indeed, another gray hair.  They’ve been popping up like weeds in fertilizer lately.   For as much as I loved being a raven-haired beauty for the first thirty plus years of my life, I curse it now.  Of course, I couldn’t be granted the unique silver streaks that tell of aging gracefully.  I have the misfortune of stark white coming in non-uniform clumps throughout my head.  My natural hair part acts like a bulls-eye, and in case you don’t notice that, it also frames my face at the cusp of my hairline, making ignoring it completely impossible.  This reality check makes me study my face for other tell-tale signs of age.  There are plenty.  Not just my face, but I’ll get to those later.  My eyes are sinking back into my skull creating an eyelid overhang that would perplex the finest architects contem...

Ever since I could remember, I've wanted to write.  Being a die-hard Stephen King fan in my youth, I aspired to publish a best-seller.  I dabbled a bit in college, and was encouraged by my composition instructor to "continue to write...not just for yourself, but to share", and that I "have a unique and personal style.  Unlike your peers, you have a style that's both humorous and sophisticated".  Long before the days of digital records, I suffered a minor setback when my hard work was accidentally thrown away in the trash after lending my assignments to a friend who shared my passion.  I hadn't written anything in twenty five years, except the occasional "let me tell you how I feel about your shitty service" letter that rewarded me with both free product and extreme satisfaction.  The fire was ignited again when I had the opportunity to immerse myself in a writing class at Bucknell University.  My world grew after being exposed to different ...