The reason I haven’t been writing for a while is my health and some medical conditions that the last 6-7 years of managing cancer metastasis and countless abdominal surgeries have brought to light.

I get it. What is there to celebrate in the world these days? With a looming recession; ballooning inflation; Hijab protests erupting around the world after the murder of Mahsa Amini; Putin calling a sham referendum and illegally annexing more territories in Ukraine followed by a new set of drone attacks on civilians

With the passing of Queen Elizabeth II two weeks ago followed quickly by the decline of the world into further tumult as the UN General Assembly gathered for its annual meeting across the water from me just as Russia decided to double down on its attacks and declarations of war against Ukraine, I took a step back from the world

I used to have a Japanese Kabuki Noh Mask on my wall. Like the Mona Lisa, the “smile” on the mask, was exactly that: a mask. Neither happy, nor sad, a yes or a no

I have a lot of scar tissue, both internal and external, that I share quite openly and authentically these days. And I always find it interesting who engages with it, who ignores it, and who runs away entirely.

When Unwriitten was first released in 2004, it coincided with the beginning of my career as a Brand Strategist working on Brands with True Impact. Like Toyota’s cutting-edge hybrid synergy drive fuel cell technology.

I’m not sure why Olivia Newton-John’s song Magic was the only song that stuck in my head from my early day-camp van-riding days at 3 or 4, but last week, when her obituary appeared, it all came back to me and completely changed the tenor of my day and week

Of all the songs about New York City, this is my favorite. It never explicitly mentions New York, but it captures, for me at least, what makes this city so special.

Last week pushed me over the edge and into a full unbreathing and frozen but hyperventilating seizure. A lot of people don’t understand what I mean by “seizure” and why I have them.

My landlords cut the water supply to my unit last week. The explanation given at the time was that the water table was too low for the tank to pump properly, but somehow the restaurant below me had no interruption in service.

About 10 years ago today, while traveling “by accident” in France with one of my best friends and a few ladies from Washington Heights, we miraculously encountered 2 of my other closest New York friends while in Paris.

When I first watched The Laundromat on Netflix a few years ago (when I had Netflix) I thought it was informative, even entertaining. But what I learned was also something I definitely wanted to address…

From the moment I was conscious as a child, maybe 2? All I could see in the world was what was wrong with it.

The last time I allowed someone to come close to me, broke my heart, and sent me fleeing into a year of self-destruction and 1-night stands, I guess with the intent of hurting the person who hurt me.

For those not familiar with Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, it is the tale of identical twin sister and brother Viola and Sebastian, who not only have just lost both their parents but been shipwrecked and separated by a storm at sea and believe each other to be dead, and themselves to be completely alone.

I’ve been listening to all the news and Pomp and Circumstance swirling around the last few days or so covering Queen Elizabeth II’s Platinum Jubilee celebrations, really curious as to whether the strength of the cheers was to applaud the strength and stability of her reign or to drown out the fear of what comes with her descent.

The same is true of nonfiction, or even breathing or being able to make her own decisions and way in the world. But day after day, I’m seeing those fundamental rights disappear for women.

I’ve always been bullied. Probably not a surprise given I’ve always been small for my age, had glasses as a child and even expressed the wrong genetic code from my primarily rugged Irish-farming and Scandinavian and Cornish-seafaring/Viking roots.

On May 12th, the US remembered its 1 million dead so far from Covid, and I once again traveled back in time (for the 8th year) to my trip in a taxi to NYU Medical Center, when I should have died from an emergency craniotomy and brain resection.

This past week, I made a very rapid, and in many ways emotionally torturous, roundtrip journey to New York. The place I used to call “home.”