Every now and then, I catch myself looking around my life for no particular reason. Usually it happens on a Saturday morning. I’ve got a cup of coffee in my hand, the house is quiet, and I’m trying to convince a blinking cursor that it would really like
A few years ago, I was talking with someone in the Star Trek community when they started asking questions about my life. By the end of the conversation, they knew I was a musician, a writer, a podcaster, a coffee enthusiast, a dog lover, a Midwesterner, and someone who spends
I still remember sitting in my second year of college looking at a schedule filled with music education classes and U.S. history courses and believing I knew exactly what my future was going to look like. There was something comforting about the certainty of it. I was going to
Every once in a while I stumble across an old family photograph and find myself laughing. Not because the picture is particularly funny, but because it captures a version of me that seems both completely familiar and completely out of place at the same time. In one of my favorites,
Resilience Is Usually Wearing Ordinary Clothes The other day I found myself feeling oddly accomplished because I had folded a basket of laundry. Not changed the world. Not solved a major problem. Not achieved some profound life milestone. Laundry. The socks were matched. The towels were folded. Nothing was on
I have lost count of how many times this has happened now. Somewhere in the middle of an interview, somebody pauses for a second, smiles a little, and says the same word: Hope. Actors say it. Writers say it. Directors, composers, designers, longtime fans. Eventually, almost without fail, the conversation
I once learned an important life lesson while standing on a chair holding a saxophone and trying not to fall to my death in front of my college professor. I studied music in college, which means I spent an unreasonable amount of time practicing scales while surviving almost entirely on
I have been a musician since I was ten years old. Which means I have spent most of my life around creative people. Writers scribbling notes into half-broken notebooks. Musicians arguing over one chord change for forty-five minutes because “no no no, this version feels emotionally incorrect.” Artists
Hello, lovelies. ☕✨ I learned early that saying something ridiculous could change the entire mood of a room. Not in theory. Not as a personality trait. As a tool. I remember standing in front of a classroom, fluorescent lights buzzing just enough to be annoying, chairs shifting, that low hum of
Or: A Brief Field Report from Someone Operating at 9% with Questionable Wi-Fi to Her Own Brain There is a very specific version of me that exists at about 9 percent battery, and she is…operational. Not thriving. Not sparkling. Not out here winning awards for excellence in humaning.
My Gen X heart had a moment this week. Somewhere in the glitter and chaos of Coachella, Sabrina Carpenter brought out Madonna, and I just sat there for a second taking it in. Maybe that’s the Gen X in me. Because it’s Madonna. And that’s not about
There are not many things left that make the world stop and look up together. Not really. Not in a way that cuts through the noise. Not in a way that silences the doomscroll for even a minute. Not in a way that reminds us we are still capable of
This is not about aliens from other planets. Some days, the world feels like too much noise and not nearly enough care. Too many people talking past each other. Too much cruelty disguised as strength. Too much hurrying, snapping, scrolling, and surviving. Too many moments where it feels like everyone
Spring always arrives like I have not been doubting it for weeks. As if I have not spent the tail end of winter wrapped in a blanket, clutching coffee, side-eyeing the sky, and wondering whether the trees are ever going to emotionally reconnect with the rest of us. And
We’ve been told for years to just carry on. Keep going. Push through. Do what needs to be done. Put one foot in front of the other. And sometimes that is exactly the right answer. Sometimes carrying on is survival. Sometimes it is the bravest thing a person can
Star Trek does not just imagine a better future. It challenges us to build one. I think that is one of the biggest reasons it has lasted for nearly sixty years. Not because every series is perfect. Not because every episode works for every fan. And definitely not because Trek
What stayed with me most about “Rubincon” was Caleb telling his mother that Starfleet is his home, but so is she. That line just landed. It was not a surprise exactly. This whole season has been pushing Caleb toward that realization. But hearing him say it out loud made the
I’ve heard people say “the audacity” the way they say “bless their heart.” You know the tone. That mix of disbelief, annoyance, and a tiny bit of entertainment. Like… I can’t believe they did that, but also, wow, the confidence though. And honestly? I get it. Audacity has
Every once in a while, an episode of television comes along that does more than entertain. It stays with you. It stirs something in you. It reminds you why stories matter in the first place and why Star Trek has meant so much to so many of us for so
I used to think “home” was a place. An address. A room. A street you could drive down without thinking. A key that fit a lock. A couch that remembered the shape of you. And sometimes, it is. It’s the kitchen light before the day gets loud. The smell
There’s a moment in “The Life of the Stars” when SAM asks the Doctor to hold her hand. He hesitates. And then he can’t. A tear slips down her face. No dramatic swell. No big speech. Just a quiet, human fracture. I sat there longer than I expected
Before the day starts asking things from me, there is coffee. Not in a dramatic, cinematic way. Usually in a sleepy, hair-doing-whatever-it-wants, trying-to-locate-my-brain kind of way. But still. There is coffee. There is the mug in my hands, the warmth, the smell,
Spring semester arrives, and “Ko’Zeine” wastes no time reminding us what Starfleet Academy is really for. Not polishing resumes. Not ranking cadets. Building people. And I love that about this episode. Because underneath the wedding, the break chaos, and the disciplinary mess, what we’re really watching is a
“Be the kindness you want to see.” A friend asked me about that phrase this week. It’s one of those lines that can feel like a hand on your shoulder, until the world gets heavy. Then it turns into a real question: how do we keep choosing kindness when