Musing to the Music

Musing to the Music

Musing to the Music
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I write to Josh Groban.

No, not like sending him letters in the mail.

Like playing his songs while I type.

His music demands something. Creativity. Thought. A story. But not its own—Honestly, I can’t understand any of the Italian—instead, it lets me make up mine. His English words? They swirl around and around, blocking out the world. Blissful white noise that invites inspiration.

It’s funny, though. I can’t read to him. Continue reading

Out of My Hands

It’s hard. Just sitting there, unable to make things happen, unable to change things, unable to move people or schedules or calendars. We live in an age where we can connect at anytime, any place — and yet suddenly we can’t connect with anyone at all. Continue reading