“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…)
The deep orange and warm yellow light from the setting sun seeps into the car through a thin sheet of lightly tanned dust that is gently layered over the windshield. I calmly gaze out beyond the sea of slowly moving vehicles that are stuck in traffic to the horizon. The subtle bits of grime and dust wouldn’t have been as noticeable if it wasn’t for the incandescent rays from the falling orb in the sky, but I find the messy view comforting.
It’s this image of the dusty windshield that steals away my thoughts and brings me back to older times. I’m reminded of long drives in pickup trucks along the dusty back roads that are nestled in between fields of growing crops out in the country. I can easily hear conversations and sing-alongs to classic country songs with my best friend as I soak in the similarly warm glimmers of a sunset that finds its way through the dusty windshield. (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…)
I took a breath as I stepped out into the light. A familiar scent of dust covered asphalt gently baking like a sheet of homemade cookies in an oven brushed by me as I began to exhale. The subtle scent would sit on the tip of my nostrils as I walked to my car that was strategically parked under the eve of a nearby building’s roof. I felt a heaviness in the air as I sifted through the barely noticeable light summer breeze. It was undoubtedly warm outside, and the thermometer I saw, after I finally climbed into my car and turned on the engine, indicated that it was steadily growing warmer. (more…)