Then & Now

I used to love the rain. I’d walk through downpours without hesitation, letting the water soak through my clothes. I never owned an umbrella; I never saw the need. Even when I had other ways to get home, if it was raining, I walked. The world felt softer in the rain, quieter. Thunder wasn’t something to fear; it was something to admire. From home, I’d listen to it rumble through the sky, a raw display of power.

Now, rain makes me uneasy. My dogs hate it, shying away from the cold drops, shifting anxiously at the sound of water against the windows. Thunder, once thrilling, is now a source of distress for them — and for my cat. Their fear changes how I feel about it. I don’t revel in storms anymore; I watch, waiting for the worst to pass. What I once loved is different now, not because it changed, but because I did.

PPP Reviews

April 2025

Relentless & Steady

And just like that,
a quarter of 2025 has slipped away.
Time doesn’t wait;
it doesn’t pause ;
it moves,
relentless and steady.

A new week unfolds before us,
blank and brimming with possibility.
May we seize it...
shape it...
make it count. 

Against AI Use

This is for writers:

https://authorsguild.org/news/practical-tips-for-authors-to-protect-against-ai-use-ai-copyright-notice-and-web-crawlers/

Jasmine Jitters

                                             

Should I?
The sun is warmer now...
and she has been so patient —
watering, whispering things I pretend not to hear.
I feel the urge rising,
a tickle at the tips of my stems...
but blooming is no small gesture.
It’s a commitment, a declaration.
What if I give everything and it’s too soon?
Too much?
Still… I see how she looks at me, hopeful.
Maybe one flower —
just to test the air...
just to show her I see her, too.

March 26 - Part Two

Then I started thinking about ceramics. Standing there in that shop, which was also a kind of workshop, it hit me how similar it is to writing. You start with a lump of something — ceramics: clay / writing: idea — and you try to shape it into something that makes sense. Sometimes it works, sometimes it falls apart halfway through. You mess with it, rework it, maybe start over completely. 

Even when you think you’ve got it, it still has to go through the heat — or editing — and you never know exactly how it’ll come out. Things might crack, just like with writing. You put it down on the page, think it’s done, then look at it again and realize the tone is off or it doesn’t even say what you thought it did.

There’s also this point where you just have to stop fiddling with it. Clay dries out. Writing stiffens up, too, if you overwork it. You do what you can, and then you let it be — flaws and all. It’s never going to be perfect, but if it holds together and does its job, that’s usually good enough.