I grabbed my bagel and coffee from the common folding table found at the back of the meeting room. The table was draped with a bright white cloth which illuminated every crumb or innocent splash and spill of the water that dripped from the chilled water dispenser or the coffee that didn’t quite make it all the way into a writer’s cup. I would take my regular seat towards the back of the conference room and listen to the monthly updates from the writers’ community in Kern County. (more…)
“Thank you again for agreeing to speak with me this morning,” I said hunching over my phone that was placed on speaker. I was eyeing the time on the free recording app that ran in the background on my laptop. “I really appreciate it.”
“No, thank you,” Susan Surftone, former FBI agent turned famous female surf guitarist responded. Her cool and confident voice had echoed from the speaker of my phone. “I really enjoyed your questions.”
I laughed a little and responded with an awkward, “thank you.” Susan had been interviewed by many publications before about her amazing backstory, and so my goal in this particular interview was to shift the focus and include elements about herself and her past that hadn’t been covered before. I wanted some different quotes and wanted to add more of her views and opinions on some hard pressing issues that were relevant to today’s political climate. (more…)
I didn’t have access to a pen and paper. No ink blots were to be left as stains on my hands and parchment. There were no sticky notes around, no computers or phones to type with, and no notepads to doodle in. It was then that I knew that I wouldn’t be able to think.
At times, the only way I can dissect and delineate my thoughts is to write them down. I’ll have vague ideas in my head, stories sitting on the edge of my tongue, but no way of describing what’s bouncing around inside my head through word of mouth. (more…)
I received a missed phone call while I was out in the garden. I try not to take my phone outside with me for fear of a cascading pile of rich dirt that would inevitably fall on top of the expensive device. And with drops of cool liquid from the watering canister sneakily trying to fall on to the dark dirt in a mission to make mud, I figured that I should keep my phone inside. The call was from a dear friend who had followed the missed call with a text message. It was the habit of my generation, in this day and age, to leave an intended message in the form of a text rather than one’s voice.
I picked up the smartphone and clicked the button on the side which would illuminate the screen and read the message, Hey, how is everything? (more…)
Sometime in 2009 I sat down at a computer, created a Blogspot account and began publishing posts to the web. At the time, the recent economic downturn and cuts to higher education fueled the fire for Jasmine on the Issues, and then a couple of years later, my interest in telling stories led me to create Jazzed About Stuff. When I received a message from WordPress reminding me that I registered on the site three years ago, I was shocked at another realization.
I have been talking to strangers online from all over the world for about five years now. (more…)