Category: Dear Diary
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Doodle, I Have Some News… Her Name Is Toffee
Ever since Doodle passed away last November, I’ve been pretty convinced that I would never have another dog. Not because I don’t love dogs anymore. Quite the opposite. It’s because Doodle was the best dog. Like, objectively. Scientifically. Peer-reviewed. No further studies needed. She was my dog. And after losing her, I couldn’t imagine starting…
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Turns Out My Favorite Place Is Wherever Life Isn’t Happening
I spent weeks looking forward to this weekend. Not in the casual “that’ll be nice” kind of way. I really committed to it. I bought movie tickets. I booked a whale watching cruise. I checked the weather almost every day as if repeatedly opening the weather app could somehow negotiate with the clouds. I already…
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On Rewatching Titanic: The Ship Still Sinks. I Just See It Differently Now
I found out this week that Titanic is free on YouTube again, so naturally I ended up watching it… again. There are movies you watch once because they’re entertaining. Then there are movies that quietly grow up with you. Every few years, Titanic somehow finds its way back into my life. Not because I forget…
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Broken English, Intact Shame
Last night I had a dream that scared me more than death. 😂 In the dream, I suddenly couldn’t understand English anymore. Everyone around me kept talking, laughing, ordering coffee, living their little productive lives, while I stood there hearing what sounded like a blender drowning in a bathtub. Their mouths moved. Their faces reacted.…
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On Learning the Language of Absence
I did not tell many people when Doodle passed away. I do not know whether that was avoidance, protection, or simply the most human thing I had in me. Some losses are too large to be announced. They resist being turned into information. They do not want to be placed neatly into a sentence and…
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The Violence of Small Talk
🚕Several days ago, I got into an Uber wanting one of the smallest luxuries modern life can offer: silence. Just a quiet ride, please. A temporary break from being perceived. Instead, the driver asked me what my name means. Under normal circumstances, that is a harmless question. Maybe even a kind one. It is one…
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Thoughts on Email Manners, Bad Days, and the Small Ethics of Not Being Needlessly Cruel
Earlier this week, I was doing a normal part of my job. As a field application scientist, part of what I do is reach out to researchers, professors, labs, and potential collaborators. I introduce myself, briefly explain why I am contacting them, and see whether there may be a scientific fit or a possible opportunity…
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On Healing, Not Just Cure: What It Means to Seek Mercy Beyond Medicine
I am not here to write theology with footnotes or deliver a formal defense of religion to people who collect arguments the way some people collect antique knives. I am also not here to pretend I am a model churchgoer with a deeply scheduled spiritual life, arriving in pressed clothes and emotional stability every Sunday…
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I Knew It Was You
Last night my brain did the cruelest thing it knows how to do: it gave me you, perfectly, and then reminded me I don’t get to keep you. I was sleeping on my side. Not peacefully, just knocked out the way tired people sleep, like your body shuts a door because it can’t hold itself…
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The Museum of My Insecurities (Nobody Cares)
I have a private museum inside my head. It’s open 24/7. The lighting is harsh. Every exhibit is called: “Here’s Why You’re Not Enough.” 🎭 Which is funny, because the rest of the world is not buying tickets.🙂 That’s the weird part about insecurities. They feel like public announcements, 📩But here’s the truth I already…