Thankful Thursday: Read to Me

I never liked the idea of audio books. It seemed like cheating.

But in another episode of don't-judge-those-shoes-until-you-wear-them, I'm now an avid book listener.

I have a new client (hooray!) and the work requires a good amount of driving (blech) and I've taken to audio books like freckles on a redhead.

Did you know your local library has dedicated shelves of space to books on compact discs?  Me neither (I'm always late to the party, but make up for my tardiness with great enthusiasm, and extra wine). This summer I wandered into this new listening-to-books world and discovered fresh opportunities to do something with my wandering mind.

The First Great Book
Lucky me, the first book was a gem that had lingered on my books-to-read list for too long. I knew I should read this much-hyped book but I also knew that when time is short I choose feel-good over feel-smart (much like eating — bag of chips or bag of lettuce?). Without the audio version I would have missed a fantastic book:  Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain, with superb narration by Kathe Mazur.

The Book That Will Not Be Named
My next choice was a dud, and so clearly a repackaging of earlier books that I felt duped shortly after hitting "Play" and still I hung on through all eight CDs (quitters never win, but they probably have more fun). 

The Other Book That Will Not Be Named
Sometimes things get worse before they get better. And my next pick was a loser, too. This book was delivered by the author, a pepped up, self-claimed "bad-ass life coach" (cringe). What was I thinking?

The Best Audio Book (so far)
I've enjoyed David Sedaris essays for years but after the first few books the irreverence and humor started to feel reheated and stale. But listening to Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls restored my faith in his unique wit and charm. While a great writer, his entertaining delivery — a combo of tender, tight and sharp — really gives life to his words. I was touched, amused and even found myself laughing aloud. I may never "read" a Sedaris book again.

Here's What I've Found
Admittedly my research is scant; I've "read" just five books on CD, but as I noted earlier, I'm quick to judge, so let's jump in:

1. The best books feature the author reading, or a smooth, intelligent voice offering a mix of authority and warmth (i.e. Kathe Mazur).

2. Talk nonfiction to me, please. Right away, I established my personal book boundaries, and limited my audio choices to nonfiction and/or books I wouldn't read if I had the opportunity to actually read.

3. CDs skip, and that's a real drag, especially if you're in the middle of laughing through a Nora Ephron essay and really want to know what she did about her neck.

On this Thankful Thursday, I'm getting in the car, turning up the volume, and giving thanks.

It's Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to give thanks and express appreciation for people, places, things and more.

What are you thankful for today?

Me, myself, and too much I

Pity the writers hunched over keyboards, racked with longing and loneliness.  

The other day a blogger I like urged readers to comment on a blog — hers, yours, anyone’s.

"But surely," she wrote, "someone else out there is writing by themselves and wondering, Does anyone care?"

It seemed at first sweet, this request for affirmation, and then sad. And then familiar.

A few months ago, one of my favorite writer-bloggers expressed her fatigue. “If you love something on the internet, say so," she wrote, "or it might disappear.”

I nod. Because we're sad, because we're hungry.

____

Blogs are dead! Are blogs dead? We’re having this debate, again. Email is dead. Conversation is dead. Books are back?

No one talks anymore, and yet everyone talks too much.

If blogs are waning, have we finally tired of talking about ourselves? Or, more likely, we’ve tired of reading about others talking about themselves.

And yet.

And yet, everyone is writing a memoir, sharing on Facebook, offering images on Instagram. All show, all tell, all the time. And I’ve fed this fever. For years in writing workshops I’ve urged people to tell their story. What’s your story? I ask. Only you can tell it.

And now we’ve got a saturation of self.

I’m tired of the “I.” 

"I" leads the way.

And “I” am guilty. It’s tough to get through a page, a blog, a dinner, without the bigmouth I.

We’re shouting to be heard. We, as in me. As in, you too?

____

Blogging, by its nature, involves the “I.”  And super hits of self: I am a writer, and here’s what I’m thinking, feeling, doing . . .

But it’s not about me. Is it?

But creating — writing, painting, photography — involves the “I”:  I saw this. I felt this. I interpret the world (and myself) through that act of making.

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself.
(I am large, I contain multitudes).

- Walt Whitman
Song of Myself

____

Are blogs over?  

Most of my writing peers have left the room. Did they return to their own private toil, and now keep their trials and triumphs to themselves?  

Who can blame them? In fact, let’s laud them! They know the recipe for art: quietitude, introspection, imagination.

The inner conversation hums and turns, reaches a pressure and, when we're lucky, tumbles out as poem, story, painting. Something essential emerges, something larger and more meaningful than me and I.

____

At some point you grow weary of sharing your scrapes and scars. You pack for a long trip, prepare for a solo drive, close the door, and start the car.

Are we there yet?

Love the world a little more

“Making art is a way of being present in the world. It is an act of attention,” says artist Yolanda Sánchez, who is featured on 3 Good Books.

Influenced by dance, calligraphy and poetry, Sanchez creates beautifully fluid abstract paintings. “My intention . . . is to widen my boundaries, find new sources of inspiration, discover something I don’t know. Any or all of these experiences make me love the world a little more.”

At Push Pull Books, I invite writers and artists to share their favorite books. Why? Because when we read, creativity stirs. And when we create, our lives expand.

The Book I Want You to Read

It's annoying to pester people about a book they must read.

I'm now that person, imploring you to read this book:

Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End, by Atul Gawande.

It's not a charmer. There's no romance or inspiration. Poor health and near death are tough sellers.

But this book is true, necessary. It will stir and shift the way you think about serious illness and approaching death. Atul Gawande is a surgeon, a writer for The New Yorker, and an engaging storyteller. Being Mortal charts his personal experience while also calling for a change in our culture's philosophy of health care.

We think our job is to ensure health and survival. But really it is larger than that. It is to enable well-being. . . Whenever serious sickness or injury strikes and your body or mind breaks down, the vital questions are the same:

What is your understanding of the situation and its potential outcomes?

What are your fears and what are your hopes?

What are the trade-offs you are willing to make and not willing to make?

And what is the course of action that best serves this understanding?"

Who should read this book? Caregivers, children with aging parents, people with serious illness, people who are friends of the ill and/or aging, family members of the ill and/or aging, people who are aging, Well, so, I guess that's everyone.

As in, you.

Buy this book. Borrow this book (libraries have it!). And for the time-pressed, watch PBS's Frontline feature on this book.

Larger hungers

Some of the poems are about the hunger

we have for real food, but others are about

the larger hungers — our need for love,

for sex, family, success, the past.

These hungers are a kind of longing.”

 

For 3 Good Books, I asked Diane Lockward — author of four poetry books, including What Feeds Us, and a blog called Blogalicious — to share her favorite books on the theme of food.

When we read, creativity stirs. And when we create, our lives expand.

See you at 3 Good Books.

On Sunday: Rowing

 
An excerpt from Rowing, a poem by Anne Sexton

Thankful Thursday: Power

Poets of all ages, including Art from Ashes youth, took part in the Poetry Booth at the Denver County Fair. The annual event features a poetry contest, a performance, and a poetry booth.
Life gets busy and full. Poems drag around my ankles and fall away in the wake. Sometimes I forget the power of poetry. But this weekend I was moved and reminded.

I spent the weekend at the Denver County Fair, mixing up a big batch of poetry.

At what's been dubbed the "craziest county fair in America," pies and pigs mix with zombies, drag queens, and crazy cats (Lil Bub!). In the whirl of all this, poetry sings. And as Director of Poetry (I love this title), I get to orchestrate all kinds of fun: a poetry contest, a poetry performance, and a poetry booth.

Now in our fifth year, poetry soared, with more poem entries than any other contest category. More than pies, more than pickles, more than beer! 

Along with the contest, the Poetry Performance featured powerful readings by youth poets from Art from Ashes.

"I'm a recovered addict," Tyler told the audience. "Poetry transformed my life."

"I just had my last day of chemo," announced Vaniesha. "Poetry gives me strength."

Their words burned up the stage and ignited energy. 

Just a few feet away, people crowded the Poems-Write-Now table. Poets of all ages went to work, penning on-the-spot poems for appreciative customers, many of whom until that day didn't think they liked poetry.

"It's so nice to see poetry in such a different venue!" noted Eduardo, a contest judge and a writer working the poetry booth. "It makes me happy to see enthusiasm for poetry."

For one weekend, poetry moved out of books, libraries and schools and into the wide open world where people play, laugh, and live. Now, that's powerful stuff!

It's Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things and more. What are you thankful for today?

Somebody said something, but who?

Isn't this a beautiful passage? It was written by Louise Erdrich.

Yes, she really wrote this. Not Abraham Lincoln, Maya Angelou, Robin Williams or your second cousin who just found you on Facebook.

You know what I'm talking about. The only thing worse than no attribution is misatrribution.

That bird don't sing
"A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song."

Maya Angelou did not say or write these words and yet the postage stamp released April 2015 in tribute to the late poet, bears these words, her name, and face.

After the stamps were printed, distributed, and launched in a celebration featuring First Lady Michelle Obama and Oprah Winfrey, the truth was out: The line was penned by Joan Walsh Anglund, in A Cup of Sun, a poetry collection published in 1967.

More than 80 million stamps were produced, and the United States Postal Service has no plans to retract them, according to a story by Ian Crouch in the New Yorker.

"It seemed to many that the folks at the Postal Service had simply believed too readily what they read on the Internet," he writes. "They had gone looking for a suitable quotation, and finding this one attributed to Angelou in all kinds of places online — quotation-aggregation sites, Pinterest boards, Facebook pages, Etsy ink prints — they had slapped it onto a postage stamp, forever."

Somebody said something but was it
that someone or another someone?
We're lazy, and confused. Our enthusiasm for inspiring words is so vigorous that we don't care, or question, the validity of what we read. We just embrace, then share, then perpetuate the incorrection.

In my writer-for-hire world, I've been researching inspirational quotes about aging.

[Sidenote: This area is ripe for reformation; Over many hours, I found just a handful of quotes that weren't saccharine, sentimental or insulting.]

One I liked:  "It's not the years in your life but the life in your years."

Who said it? This pithy aphorism blazes across the internet landscape — in jpegs and flowered cheer — and is usually attributed to Abraham Lincoln. But, wait, really? He doesn't strike me as a boosterish sort of speaker.

A bit more digging revealed other sources: Adlai Stevenson, Edward J. Stieglitz, and that old standby, Anonymous.

And then, praise the heavens, I found the Quote Investigator.

A solo fact-finder, Garson O’Toole has a doctorate from Yale University and he, "diligently seeks the truth about quotations."

Why so bothered?
Because words matter. And writers work to choose their words. And it's right, good and kind to give credit where credit is due.

Can I get an Amen? (And all the writers said uh-huh!)

Yes, it's okay to borrow. Austin Kleon, who re-energized the erasure poem, wrote Steal Like An Artist, the book on creative borrowing. And I do, for writing prompts and crafting collage or cento poems. But I do not lift whole lines or passages as my own. I rework and reword. And I give a nod, a hat-tip, an attribution.

Here's a tip
Before you share that next inspiring bit of quote-gold, do this:

Read, review, consider, confirm, and give correct credit.

Then share with abandon. Fuel the blaze of authenticity.

It's not the years in your life but the life in your years.

— Edward J. Stieglitz

Thankful Thursday: List It

Because attention attracts gratitude and gratitude expands joy, it's time for Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation — big, small, puny, profound— for people, places, things and more.  

I make lists. Every day, a new list. Every day, a fresh start.   

My gratitudes this week are many:

1. Signs, like this bottlecap, that reset my perspective.

2. Summer skirts

3. Wedge sandals

4. Watermelon

5. A visit to a dermatologist who finds no reason to cut away my skin.

6. Rosé — Not long ago (okay, last year) I thought this supersweet blush was a wannabe wine for cheap teens trying to appear sophisticated (okay, that was me guzzling drecky wine coolers). But I recently discovered dry, crisp and refreshing rose. So summer, so good.

7. Feeling appreciated, if even by strangers (see #8).

8. A woman I don't know called me "sweetheart."  Isn't that a warm endearment?

9. A friend has been hurt, low, and not himself. Yesterday we talked, and it was the best 20 minutes of the day.

10. This one-line poem:

Something My
Mother Told Me This
Morning on the Phone

If you don't see the light, don't stay.

— Nahshon Cook, from The Killing Fields and Other Poems

 Please join me. What are you thankful for today?

What happens when we read

Always eager for book suggestions, I started 3 Good Books.

For over a year, I've invited writers & artists to share their favorite books on themes related to their own work. The site now features over 25 creatives — novelists, poets, painters, photographers, dancers and more — sharing nearly 100 books.

When we read, we imagine.
When we imagine, we create.
When we create, our lives expand.

Expand yourself:

Nahshon Cook
Becoming

Maxine Sheets-Johnstone
Dance

Shawna Lemay
Calm

Fran Kimmel
Troubled Childhood

January Gill O'Neil
Marriage & Divorce

Erin Block
Wild Places

Currie Silver
The Art of Being

Paulann Petersen
Nature Inside & Out

Scott T. Starbuck
Activist Poetry

Shirley McPhillips
Poetry in the Everyday

Rick Campbell
Industrial Cities & Workers

Sandy Longhorn
Midwestern Rural Life

Sharon Bond Brown
Women's Ordinary Lives

Jeff Düngfelder
Absence & Silence

Valerie Savarie
Art Books

Valerie Wigglesworth & Ralph Swain
Wilderness

Ann Staley
Past & Present

Reb Livingston
Oracles & Dreams

Eduardo Gabrieloff
Latino Writers

Lisa Romeo
Personal Essays by Women

Mari L’Esperance
Mixed Heritage

Lee Lee
(Un)Natural Resources

Henry Hughes
Fishing

Tracy Weil
Play

Penelope Scambly Schott
Strong Women

Allyson Whipple
Roadtrips & Realizations

Hannah Stephenson
Artists

Try This: Rev, Write, Return

I haven’t been writing, I admit to a friend.

[ Cue the fears: Am I still a writer? Was I ever a writer? Do I even like to write? ]

I've been writing nearly all my life — half of it as a person who actually gets paid to write — and I've yet to unravel the mysteries of the writing juice. As in: how to rev it, keep it, make it come back.

Yesterday, after a long dormant spell, I felt a rush of words. You know that rush. An astonished levitation, in which you are following the words rather than forcing them. The head moves faster than the hand and you ride the wave of word flow.

Oh, the exhilaration!

This morning the zing returned. For just a few minutes, enough to write several pages and restore belief.

[ Cue the relief: I'm not a one-trick pony after all! ]

I still don't know what turns the writing juice inexplicably off and on, but two things helped in this recent bout:

Write the same starting line for consecutive days.

Find a line that engages, and do a freewrite using it as a starting line. If you get stuck, repeat your line again and again but keep the hand moving. Return the next day using the same line. You may see, as I did, how the line takes you places, shifts your perspective.

I used this line from Transformation by Adam Zagajewski: I haven’t written a single poem in months.

Write in response to art.

Though we live in a hyper-visual world, I can still go weeks without a strong reaction to an image. And then, mysteriously, a painting or photo will stir me.

This morning, I began my day at The Storialist, and was unexpectedly compelled. Suddenly, I was writing with a fever, covering pages and years. Again, I experienced the beautiful floating, in which I was not in control but standing aside allowing the words to tumble.

Is the writing any good? Probably not. But it doesn't matter. The juice is back, along with my belief in expression and myself. Though this feeling may be fleeting, it is enough for today. It is, really, everything.

Transformation

I haven't written a single poem
in months.
I've lived humbly, reading the paper,
pondering the riddle of power
and the reasons for obedience.
I've watched sunsets
(crimson, anxious),
I've heard the birds grow quiet
and night's muteness.
I've seen sunflowers dangling
their heads at dusk, as if a careless hangman
had gone strolling through the gardens.
September's sweet dust gathered
on the windowsill and lizards
hid in the bends of walls.
I've taken long walks,
craving one thing only:
lightning,
transformation,
you.

— Adam Zagajewski

*Thanks to Calm Things for introducing me to this poem. 

Want more?
Try This: Scratch Out
Try This: Steal
Try This: Poetry Poker
Try This: Postcard Poems
Try This: Alphabet Poem
Try This: Morning Read & Write
Try This: Book Spine Poetry

On Sunday: Stillness

My education had taught me quite well to talk,
but I don't think it had taught me to listen.
And my schools had taught me quite well
 to sort of push myself forward in the world,
 but it never taught me to erase myself.

— Pico Iyer
The Art of Stillness

via On Being

Thankful Thursday: Happify

Hope, by Mary Baker Eddy

Favorite new phrase: Hope happifies life.

My friends are cleaning out their past.

They gave me two old books. Beautiful books with ornate typography and thin, delicate pages that rustle with the quiet preservation of poems.

Their trash is now my treasure.

Thank you.


Please join me for Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for the people, places, things & more. What are you thankful for today?

Poetry In Action

The closing paragraph of Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy's ruling on gay marriage. Kennedy wrote the decision legalizing same-sex marriage in the United States.

Read more at Slate.

Summer of Insatiable Hunger

It's summertime and I'm racing through reading material.

Novels, poetry, memoir, magazines, newspapers, manuals, cereal boxes, candy wrappers . . . The good, bad, monumental and mundane, I'm word-hungry. 

After a (long, dark, dismal) run of ehh, I've recently lucked into some good books. Let's credit the solstice. Long light, long days, open mind. As always, timing is everything.

These books hit me at the right place, right time. And isn't that how it goes?

The Diver’s Clothes Lie Empty
by Vendela Vida

An absorbing new novel, best enjoyed in one full sweep. Vida employs a risky approach: an entire novel written in second person narrative (You are growing increasingly panicked — you are in Morocco and don't have your backpack . . .). While initially off-putting, the style creates a tension of intimacy and distance for an ultimately engaging story.

The Edge of Sadness
by Edwin O’Connor

Winner of the Pulitzer Prize in 1962 , this is a quiet novel gently tendering themes of forgiveness, redemption and the value of revising perceptions. I didn’t love it, but I appreciated it, and weeks after completing the book, I’m still thinking of it. That means something, I’m just not sure what.

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns)
by Mindy Kaling

You know Mindy Kaling from “The Office,” the television show that furthered the mock-documentary style of serial storytelling. A stronger writer than actor, in this memoir-essay collection, she’s sharp and funny, offering masterful self-deprecation without the usual cloying aftertaste. Easy, breezy, fun.

What are you reading? What's snagged you at just the right time and place?

Thankful Thursday: Everywhere a sign

From pebble to peak, from profound to profane, it's time again for Thankful Thursday.

Because attention attracts gratitude and gratitude expands joy, it's time to slice through the ugly and get to the good:

In my ongoing attraction to signs (as in: horoscopes, billboards, messages), this week I drove past this doozy.

Rushed and full-throttled, this reminder is just what I needed to slow the frazzle in my head.

Odd, eye-catching and true. 

On this Thankful Thursday, I'm grateful for signs.

What are you thankful for today?

You talking to me?

Those who have anxiety, those who are shy, or nervous, seem to be the most persistent seekers of calm,” says Shawna Lemay.

“We are those who know how to sit alone, trying to regain our sense of equilibrium. We are drawn to the poetic, the contemplative, to reading, to the rituals of the everyday. We need a certain amount of time alone, we attempt to make appointments with ourselves that we can keep.”

Feeling anxious? Head over to 3 Good Books to get your literary prescription. I asked Lemay to share her favorite books on the theme of calm — something she knows quite a lot about, having written a book of essays and a blog on the topic.

To blather is easy, to edit divine

I have to tell you,

there are times when

the sun strikes me

like a gong,

and I remember everything,

even your ears.

             — Dorothea Grossman

This year, brevity meet clarity.

The Denver County Fair Poetry Contest is seeking Summer Shorts — poems of 10 lines or less. *

Even after all this time

the sun never says to the earth,

"You owe me."

Look what happens

with a love like that,

It lights the whole sky.

                          — Hafiz

Writing short is a challenge. Shorts require the potent blend of profound and precise. Or funny and tight. Or clever and clear. That can be tough stuff. To blather is easy, to edit divine.

a bee

staggers out

of the peony

        — Basho

Do you write short? Have you a short poem to share? And tell me, what's the key to making a short poem sing?

* Lucky me, I'm the Director of Poetry for this fun occasion.

Thankful Thursday: Falling Off

Art by Shirley McPhillips

At first, I collected gratitudes easily:

Thank you for coffee made by someone who loves me.
Thank you for the thrift shop score (two skirts!)
Thank you for a good sleep.
Thank you for warm sun.

As the week wore on, my gratitude weakened:

Thanks for getting me to the gas station before I ran out of gas.
Thanks that I didn't break my arm while rollerblading (yes, I'm living in 1995).
Thank god these jeans still fit (but barely).

By yesterday, my gratitude devolved to grumbles:

Why is this line so long?
How hard is it to return a phone call?
Do I have to do everything?

Like exercise and good health, it's easy to take the high road when you're already walking in the light. One stumble and you fall away, gratitude and cheer clattering along with you. Gray skies, scuffed knees and sour spirit.

I don't have a cure.

But this morning I gazed upon this card, made just for me by a poet-friend correspondent, and thought, "Well, isn't that nice?" 

Nice makes the world turn. One nice leads to another nice. Nice keeps me on the path.

Thank you.

Because attention attracts gratitude and gratitude expands joy, it's time for Thankful Thursday. Please join me.
What are you thankful for today?

Things I Didn't Tell Her

The other day I sent a graduation gift to a girl I've never met.

It's that time of the year — commencement season.

Along with the gift (a book, of course), I wrote a short note. Days later, in my mind, that note expanded. Turns out I was writing to her, and myself, and to many others making their way:

Dear Graduate,

Congratulations! We've never met, but I know your mother has worked hard to give you everything she never had, most notably a loving push to higher education.

That's big. Please step bravely, kindly & with appreciation into this new stage of your life.

Sound preachy? Maybe, but just indulge me for a bit. I'm tendering a few nuggets of advice that may ease the sometimes rocky road ahead:

1.
You don't know everything (and who would want to?)

In the scheme of the universe, you've been around for a split second. The world is wide open, and so is your mind. Try to keep it wide awake and willing. Listen, absorb, ask questions, and listen more. Veer away from hard and fast opinions. Give yourself time. Consider many sides. Know that not knowing is the best knowing of all. 

2.
Keep a secret (in fashion and in life)

Secrets are good. Not the I-have-a-second-family kind of secret, or stashing-whiskey-in-the-garage sort of thing, but more like this: The Secret Life by Stephen Dunn.

The world is burdened with overshare. In fashion, the stylish are those who choose their emphasis (don't show leg and cleavage; choose one, and then choose carefully), and so you, too, must keep something close, covered. Mystery wins.

Fashion tip No. 2: Showing shoulder is classy; showing breast is not.

3.
Say I'm sorry

You're gonna mess up. We all do. The key is to apologize — without defensiveness or excuses. Don't worm your way through a faux apology ("I'm sorry you feel that way"). No, no, no! Own up and express genuine remorse.  

And while you're at it, learn empathy. This is where compassion and kindness take root. Empathy informs and heightens our sense of responsibility. 

4.
You're not special

Well, yes, of course you are special in that one-of-a-kind snowflake way. But let's not get bigheaded. David McCullough Jr, a high school teacher, explains it best.

5.
Give thanks

I'm not alone in my love of the thank you note. Jimmy Fallon writes one every week. Leah Dieterich writes one every day.

"In the process of opening a note, feeling the paper, seeing the imperfection of the writing, reading the message in another person’s voice, you actually feel like you have a piece of that person in your hand,” says a 20-something thank-you-note-writer in "The Found Art of Thank You Notes."

We all like to feel appreciated, and the act of expressing gratitude increases your connection to others — and makes the recipient feel good too. Bonus points for handwritten notes.

6.
You're never as fat as you think you are.
(But more exercise won't kill you).

I've spent my life feeling hefty. And when I look back at photos, I wasn't fat. The mind can be so cruel.  

I don't know you, but I bet you're not fat. And I hope you've never worried about your weight. But you are female so the chances are good that you've experienced the body image torture that saddles so many.

Let's skip the platitudes and positive thinking. Here's what worked for me: Find a physical activity that you enjoy — swim, ski, bike, yoga, dance, run, paddle — and then have fun doing it. This is a cure for both mind and body. And if, like me, you're always looking for ways to do less and eat more, just do more. Really, it's that simple. And that hard.

And maybe that's the best advice of all: do more.

Don't fret and fritter. Don't delay. Just do more. Love more. Listen more. Feel more. Live more.

That last tip should cover you for life.

With love & hope,

Drew

p.s. This was fun. Let's do it again before graduate school.