The next time you’re drawing an internal blank, stand in front of a bevy of notebooks.

Robin Thicke wrote a whole album named Paula. Not this Paula - another Paula. A Paula that is not this Paula. Because this Paula doesn’t require other people to write sonnets and ill-fated love ballads to her; she writes her own things. And not in a creepy, self-aggrandizing way. I sit down with Paula - again, not that Paula. That’s the other Paula. This is Paula Paula. Anyway, I sit down with her to ask a few non-Thicke questions.

Some people enter your life via IP Addresses. A slide down a timeline can change the course of both of your lives.

That’s it. That’s the blog.

Last night I broke in my writing teacher shoes. Kristen excitedly told me that I “am officially a teaching artist!”. Imagine your soul hitting the book-lined roof. Imagine looking back at the months of throwing away pages, rage qutting and starting over again. Imagine the culmination feeling like this.

Depression for me moonlights as vivid caution.

My focus lately has turned to intentional writing to navigate around the huge potholes of life. Here are a few pieces I’ve written that may ease some of the jarring and the sick feelings after you thought you missed that massive hole but your shocks say otherwise.