Tourette Syndrome. The tics I suppress with medications, mostly.
For twenty years, I heard snippets about Berkeley Springs.
People change. Over the years, personalities morph. They bend, adjust, reboot. Introverts become extroverted.
Redefine casual. It’s my new vow.
“Christmas? No, we’re not open on Christmas.”
Point A to point B. No control. Too late to do anything about it. Along for the ride. Wherever it leads.
If you remember the song “Shaving Cream”… well, you’re old.
I know a lot about finance, fitness, child care and marketing. Not space. Not astronomy. But I happen to think the moon is cool.
Should I respond or let it go? Every single person said let it go.
Please take a minute to inventory your friends and acquaintances. If you think they might be struggling with depression, make the effort to say something.
No, this isn’t a recipe. Just thoughts.
Sometimes, as the week winds down, you just don’t want to do anything.
I hate guns. All guns. Carried by anyone.
With my tattoos covered. I look exactly like everyone else.
Sleepiness runs in the family.
I have a long-standing habit of trying to pin a label on myself.