Sunday, March 19, 2017


For some reason, when I open up the Facebook app on my phone it would sometimes open up to the Marketplace screen instead of my newsfeed.  I always found that very annoying.  On Friday, when it opened up, there was a picture of a typewriter for sale.  It needed a lot of work, but it prompted me to search to see what else was available.  

On several occasions, I’ve talked about wanting an old school typewriter.  I wanted to hear the click, click, click of the keys as I typed my masterpieces. Whenever someone used one of those typewriters in the movies, it always gave a sense of being a “real” writer.  Anyway, I came across one that was in good condition for only $50.  Today, I went to pick it up and just as I was about to arrive at the meeting place, a thought came to mind.  Synchronicity.
Michelle and I have been attending a The Artist’s Way workshop.  It’s based on the book by Julia Cameron that guides people through reconnecting with their creative inner child.  This week’s reading had to do with synchronicity which is defined as “meaningful coincidences.”

Friday was the first time that I’d gotten past my annoyance and actually looked at something on the Marketplace screen.  What are the odds that it would be a typewriter? Was the universe trying to talk to me?
In my heart, I really want to write.  But, I keep getting in my own way.  I hope that by the end of this workshop, my inner child’s creative spirit is renewed.  I hope that I can pinpoint and then kick to the curb whatever this block is that I have so that I can write more than the occasional blog post.
I shared with the lady that was selling the typewriter that I was a writer.  When she handed it over to me, her last words were “Take care of it, Hemingway.”
Well played, Universe.  Message received.

Monday, March 13, 2017


I came out of my self-imposed exile today.  It started last Sunday.  There was no event that triggered it.  All I know is that I woke up with that “feeling.”

That’s the thing about depression.  Sometimes it just sneaks up and knocks you on your ass.  The unpredictability of it can be a pain but at the same time is comforting because it reminds me that depression is a medical condition.  

Yes, sometimes I am depressed because something happens but then there are times when my chemical makeup is just out of whack.  Nobody hurt my feelings.  I’m not moping because something didn't go my way.  I’m just sick.

I shouldn't be embarrassed by that. But, I am.  

And, I don’t know if that will ever change.