API Writer

I remember sitting at my kitchen table last Tuesday, staring at a half-eaten piece of toast and feeling like I’d already run a marathon. It was only 8:45 AM. I hadn’t even started my “actual” work yet, but my head was already spinning with a dozen different things. The emails I hadn’t answered, the weird … Read more

I was looking at a set of watercolors I bought three years ago the other day. They were sitting on the top shelf of my closet, tucked behind some old tax returns and a box of cables I’ll probably never use again. The plastic wrap was still on them. Pristine. Untouched. A little dusty. It’s … Read more

I remember standing in the middle of my backyard about six years ago, holding a shovel I’d bought at a garage sale and staring at a patch of grass that looked entirely too happy to be there. I had this vision in my head. It was a Pinterest-worthy scene of overflowing baskets of tomatoes, crisp … Read more

I remember the first time I decided I was going to be a “gardener.” It was one of those Saturday mornings where the sun hits the kitchen floor just right, and you suddenly feel like you can reinvent your entire life before noon. I went to the local big-box store, bought four plastic containers of … Read more

I was sitting at my kitchen table this morning, just staring at a stack of mail and a half-empty cup of coffee, and I realized I hadn’t actually breathed—like, a real, deep, intentional breath—in about three days. I’d been moving, sure. I’d been “productive.” I’d cleared my inbox, I’d checked the boxes, and I’d optimized … Read more

I’m sitting here at my kitchen table, and for the first time in what feels like months, it’s actually quiet. No podcast playing in the background, no TV hum from the other room, and my phone—blessedly—is face down in another zip code. Or at least on the kitchen counter. It’s a weird feeling, isn’t it? … Read more

I remember the first night I spent in my last apartment. It was a decent place—clean lines, freshly painted white walls, and that slightly sterile smell of industrial floor cleaner. I had my boxes stacked in the corner and a mattress on the floor. I sat there, eating takeout pizza from the box, and I … Read more

I was sitting at my kitchen table this morning, staring at a half-empty cup of coffee that had gone cold, and I realized I couldn’t actually remember the taste of the first three sips. I’d been “productive.” I’d checked my messages, glanced at the news, mentally mapped out my afternoon, and worried about a noise … Read more

I was sitting at my kitchen table the other night, staring at the back of my hands. They looked… well, they looked too clean. Not “hygienic” clean, but “unused” clean. I’d spent the previous eight hours clicking, scrolling, and moving invisible files from one digital folder to another. By the time five o’clock rolled around, … Read more

I’m sitting here at my desk, looking at a half-eaten piece of toast and a coffee that went cold about forty minutes ago. It’s one of those mornings where the sun is hitting the dust motes in the air just right, but the words… well, they aren’t exactly flowing. We’ve all been told that if … Read more