I’m doing some new things that feel big to me.

I’m consulting with a brand, helping them develop their TikTok presence.

I applied to give a talk at an upcoming conference — and shortly thereafter, I received an email from the conference organizer, inviting me to speak (she didn’t know I had applied).

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It’s been ten months since I closed the Little Middle School, and I’m still not sure exactly what I’m going to do next.

That’s okay, right? Yeah, I think it’s okay.

I’m paying my bills. I’m enjoying my day-to-day work. I’m making new friends.

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My eyes are puffy this morning. You can always tell when I’ve had a good cry.

Yesterday, I had to say goodbye to someone small and precious to me. (Dammit, I’m gonna start crying again while I’m writing this!). Nobody died, but the grief is real. The grief has layers. It is a grief river that intersects with other grief tributaries on its way to the grief sea.

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“I think everyone has heard of that by now,” he said.

And I sat back and thought about that. There was no way it could possibly be true, but I didn’t think it would be very nice to say that in reply.

Certainly, my toddler nephew hasn’t heard of this whatever business practice we were discussing.

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the unsustainability of what I’m doing.

I’m creating content daily on a few different platforms. I’d like to add more — more content and more platforms.

I’d like to learn how to create longer-form works, like longer articles or even books, videos between five and twenty minutes, and podcasts.

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