My son thinks because the magic karate robots in his story have powers I have to go along with it, even when they change, even when they don’t make sense, even when I don’t like it. He makes a compelling argument.

I was still struggling with judgmental voices telling me what my writing should look like, while David Lynch was basing the direction of his TV series on vague feelings and momentary creative impulses. This is what separation from the noise will get you.

The noise doesn’t care what you do; it’s going to make you drag it home like a drunk after a long night; it will never get its dead weight off your back.

Mom doesn’t get my whole thing with creativity. What’s the big deal about a block? How does a writing practice balance emotions and protect sanity? She’s open to talking about it, just not until she’s done with her makeup. That’s her time.

No matter what I do, the ants of noisy, judgmental voices are upon me. I’m working too much; my creativity is stiff and soulless. I’m not doing enough; I’m lazy and shameful. Why can’t I just eat ice cream?

I’m so easy to fool, a zombie would be halfway done eating me before I knew I was in a horror movie. At least I’m not rude.

I’m sure anything that seems bogus is in my head. He’s sanctioned by Oprah for pity’s sake. Do I think I know more than Oprah?

Anne Murray’s voice could only soothe me so much on that scratchy brown couch, but I would make the best of it. I always did. What choice did I have?

I despised my stomach for as long as I had a stomach. So why did my son love it so much?

Pancakes were always waiting when we got home from church, I just always assumed they took a church amount of time to cook.

Aunt Rose said Grandma was a liar. If you dropped me into this scene as a child, I might have agreed.

The sensation of nicotine and late summer air hitting eleven-year-old lungs is as close to heaven as I’ll ever come.

How low can you go? Wait, that’s too low.

What’s in a name?

I got it right this one time. And then never again. It turns out.

For Pete’s sake, somebody help me.

The Wide Shot should have been your first clue to watch from a distance. A far distance.

I mean, YOU called ME, dude. I don’t know what to tell you.

Also, you’re not THAT gangly.

I know! I’m as surprised as you are!