According to “How Stuff Works”, spacecraft re-entry is “tricky business”. I’m fairly certain that isn’t how aerospace engineers or astrophysicists would explain it. But, hey. *shrugs *

Re-entry into the work world after vacation is tricky business, too.


The object, you, launched into the freedom of space (space to breathe, to graze, to sleep, to gaze), must return to the real world.

Re-entry is sudden. Jarring even.

Gravity and drag push and pull against you, sucking you into an atmosphere charged with fabricated urgency.  Your calendar is already full. Notifications pour in. Deadlines loom large and lowering. Somehow, tasks have metastasized and spawned action items in your brief absence. The cool aura of peace that momentarily surrounded you burns away. Once briefly and tenuously calibrated, your sense of equilibrium is rocked off-center.

The ground rushes up to meet you as you hurtle, limbs flailing, earthwards. Red warning lights flashing. Alarms blaring.

You slam into terra firma.

Bounce once. Twice. Skid to a stop.

Everything goes black.

A train stalls on the tracks. The network is down. You didn’t bring lunch. The copier is jammed. But the show must go on.

You open one eye. Then the other.

The smoke clears. A voice cuts in.

“How was your break?”




Making Space or Whatever

I decided, rather abruptly, to take a break from social media. No Facebook. No Instagram. Haven’t tweeted in years, and only snapped like once, so no change there. I wish there was a deep reason. Something about transcendentalism or enlightenment or minimalism or mindfulness. But I can’t make such bold claims.

Really, I think it’s about clearing some space in my life for…you know… living. Tamping down my addictive nature. I really haven’t spent a lot of time thinking about “desired outcomes”. I leave that for my day job. All I know is that, for me, there is more of an illusion of connectedness than I wanted to admit to.  Social media can make you feel like you know people, that they see you. It was getting to be too much of a crutch.  This thing, posting and scrolling, reading and tapping, started to feel rote. I don’t know.

I guess what I’m saying is that there wasn’t really a big plan for this disconnection, or even a definite time frame. I’m assuming that I’ll know when it’s time for this to be over just like I knew it was time to start.

In fact, I wasn’t going to blog the process. So many others already have, like Blogger who quit social media. Besides, what do I have to add to the conversation?

Randomness and honesty.

That’s what you’re here for, right?

We’ll see how that goes.

Today’s Highlights

I wore a bright blue pleated skirt that my grandmother made for me. Every time I felt surrounded by crazy, I remembered that I was literally wrapped in love.

Me,: “Maya, do you wanna do some school work?”

Maya: “Ummm… Not yet.”




You Are Here

So the year-long “optimism in the face of ignorance” experiment ended about 3 years ago. Then I got pregnant and the blog became about that. See The Vault. The verdict: People! Ugh! Eff ’em. (i.e. this whole Trump thing, the Stanford rapist, cable companies, bathroom fear-mongering, institutionalized racism, etc.)

NOW this blog is about honesty. Being real. Being an adult (which mostly sucks). Trying to figure this whole thing out (which is fun, actually). It’s about the real person behind the Instagram filters. The crazy one. You’re not alone. I’m positively ridiculous…and so are you.

So here we are. 5d9c2b19fdcc9d03d20649852e4a32d0

It’ll be mostly PG-13 here. For the ranty, spicily-worded stuff, there’s  Room 13. A key is required for that, though. I’d say, to be safe[r], leave that alone. You’ll be fine here.

Here are some of my previous blogs.

If you want to know me, this might help. Consider yourself warned.

Go ahead. I’ll wait.