For anyone focused on creative endeavors (being a comedian, writer, musician, artist) being able to afford health insurance is a real concern.

It’s so easy to feel alone in the belief that your own “You are Here” sign is an unattainable distance from that “You Want to be Here” sign glowing in the distance. Lately, I haven’t even been able to see that neon spark. Nonetheless, I still find myself believing for that miracle.

I have to ask myself- is it an issue of standards, or if it just whether the glass is half empty or half full. I hope it’s not standards- because frankly, I’ve been able to keep them high this long and I hate the idea of backing down now. As for the glass- as of late- I’m guilty of not only seeing mine as half empty, but being aware of the crack down the side and the hole at the bottom where drops sometimes slip through.

The first month I lived in Boston I almost hit a pedestrian with my car.

How we use our money can range from rational to restricted in the span of an hour. But a dollar is seldom hard to spare.

How did you manage to wrap up all my twenty-something angst and child-like defiance in one grammatically flawed phrase?

A job faux-pas leads me to suspect I’m not that funny.

She looked like chocolate tastes and stared like Whiskey feels. I could have stood there for hours. No conception of time, locked on her eyes, sparkling blue like jagged cut sapphires under a light. She asked, with her East European accent, “would you like to have a drink?”

I’ve never particularly liked talking politics. I rarely feel the need to vocalize my political persuasions.