A Journal of Curiosity
Machine learning gets a lot of bad press. A friend recently lamented that her social media feed had become an unrelenting procession of death, famine, war, and then somehow more death. Which, without question, would be a gigantic bummer. Hard to build any momentum in your day when the opening act is human suffering followed…
On accidentally becoming an essayist If I had to testify about how this writing thing started, I can imagine it now: “It was an accident, I swear.” And in a way, it was. I’d like to think I’m a self-starter, but there was no handy guide to midlife reinvention—or crisis. You decide. Depending on the…
My friend seems improbably Zen. Which is, of course, a strange contrast to my freeway of thinking. I sometimes wonder if listening to my machine-gun, interrogation-style conversation is stressful. I’m a horribly active listener—my thoughts tripping over themselves to get at whatever fascinates me. Like me, he’s a writer. Though he quietly debates what that…
When I was fired last November—let’s not put a pretty name on it. They just don’t use that term because of the semantics of it all, lawsuits, etc. Laid off, restructured, what have you—I was enraged. It was humiliating in a way the job loss in 2023 could never be. Three years ago, I had…
Local Woman Starts Literary Magazine, Acquires Sheep My beloved Labrador Retriever is a great disappointment to my children. You see, she has two great loves: food and me. So, of course, I think she’s perfect just as she is. I might feel differently if I wasn’t so highly esteemed. I get it, though. Your kids…
I’ve decided to do something that may sound unwise. Those who know me would probably shrug and say, “It’s a day ending in ‘y,’ Andrea. What else is new?” To which I’d reply, “But I really mean it this time.” Granted, this still is not an uncommon refrain. I have a busy brain. Some of…
Some people collect hobbies. I collect ideas—and spend an unreasonable amount of time turning them over until something clicks.
On reckless beginnings, creative dormancy, and the forest finally tall enough to sustain flame. Setting fires as a means of controlling them. Is art the ultimate expression of a controlled burn? As a parent, I’m horrified by the memory of myself and two friends — clearly not nearly supervised enough — deciding to build an…