I found this poem in my 'notes' application. It laughed as I read it because of the absurdity of its' truth. As we enter the fourth anniversary since the dark days of the pandemic, it's clear COVID-19 will continue to affect us and the generations follow. What we collectively experienced was wild, inexplicable even and that's putting it mildly. What matters is that we were together even in our separation. We used the tools we had to stay connected even if it was simply virtua

Shelby experiences Lord of the Rings Live at Radio City

I got on the subway at Halsey and sat down. Unlike most riders I was headphoneless. Usually I like to tune into the sounds around me,...

"Shelby! Come down here. I need your help," my mom yelled from the kitchen. It was just before Christmas. I was bundled in a sweatshirt...

We were awakened by the late call of the rooster still jetlagged from nearly 24 hours of travel. The day before we landed in Paris, rented a car and drove 8 hours to my friend's residence in the Bordeaux region. It was dark as we wove through wine country, arriving just before midnight with an ache for food and rest. The travel was not for the faint of heart. Though it wasn't until the morning that we realized we were on a small French funny farm. We walked down the wide sto

I often trespassed on the property behind my father's house. The roof was covered with moss, the deck wet with rot. The house was for...

The table in the center of the Sangha house was piled high with white sheets. "Please take off your shoes and have a seat," the check-in girl said. "Take a set of sheets. You will need them for your bunk." Marc and I slipped off our shoes, walked across the concrete floors and set our bags down by some potted plants before sitting down on the couch. There was an old woman with wiry, grey curly hair, a fleece pullover, Teva sandals, and glasses staring off into nothingness. S

We were shooting in Yonkers all week. Filming scenes inside a courthouse can get pretty boring. Video village was crammed in filing rooms. The carpets were covered with cardboard runners to protect the location from getting damaged by the accumulation of photo monitors, sound monitors, director's chairs, and the traffic of producers and actors, PA's, hair and makeup. While the scene shot you had to be quiet on set. But the prep crew couldn't be quiet. We had work to do for th

Shelby walks down the subway platform listening to a haunting rendition of Moon River sung by a stranger.

The woman before me had a shaved head. She walked slow and smooth up the subway stairs with her hands tucked in her front jean pockets. I...

The first time I used a typewriter was in the loft of my father's lake house. I was 11. The big, black, heavy Remington was left by the previous owners. The other kids played with the Game Cube, while I typed on the floor next to them. I'm not sure what I wrote on it, but I remember the clack of the keys, the tactility and its weight. I never had the chance to change the ribbon before my mom got rid of it. It took me 16 years to use a typewriter again. The year was 2019. I wa

We left the off-the-grid cabin at 3:30a that morning. This was after we made coffee, took a quick pee outside, brushed our teeth and trekked through the woods. We used flashlights to navigate the slick path over knotted roots, across the oddly-spaced plank-bridge that rested over a series of logs, and wove through the trees. Within five minutes we reached the gravel patch where our car was parked. The drive was dark, but within thirty minutes the sky shifted from dark blue to

It was late. I was tired. I started my day in the Catskills, then drove backroads to Connecticut for a baby shower before returning to...

I don't often crave the quiet, but summertime in the city makes me yearn for a vacation, a reprieve from the never ending ice cream truck...

My love, how we scream in the kitchen side by side in the car over dinner on the subway. Faces redden Voices raise You hush me, Why are...

When I told my friend that I was thinking of starting a blog, they laughed and said, "That's so 2008." I understood that statement. That same thought was the ammunition my inner saboteur had actively been using against me. No one has time to read your blog. Don't waste your time. Will it even be interesting? You don't give your time to anyone else's blog— why should you expect anyone read yours? Why you? —xoxo my inner saboteur The truth is I am a proud, unpublished wr