I’m trying to find a comics or graphic novel art class around here and all I can find are opportunities that require me to be between the ages of eight and twelve. I can’t help wondering why we think only kids want to do fun things.
A colleague of mine moved to LA from the south last year and is having a hard time adjusting. “I miss the seasons,” she says, very obviously expecting me to chime in with how I love(d) Kansas in November, which I did but basically my position is they would have
When you first begin freelancing, it’s like being parachuted, blindfolded, into a ten-acre field you’ve never seen before and your job is to grow a crop. You have no idea where you are or what the soil is like or what the seasons will bring or what grows here. You’ve
Every year, my daughter Jessica asks me if we are going to write down our revolutions, which is what she calls them. I have stopped correcting her because she is right, they are revolutions, not resolutions. They are the same each year: Be happy Do good work Love each other
Trust your cape, the guy with the guitar sings. Life is a leap of faith. He is a middle-aged smiling man, busking at the plaza in historic Santa Fe on a warm summer afternoon. I’m here with Jessica, a few months after her high school graduation. Our trip to Europe
This weekend I had the chance to hear a sixteen-year-old harpist play a Mozart concerto on two harps—playing one with his left hand and the other with his right, the type of tour de force you know he learned how to do not because someday a handful of people sitting on