Love Is Blind

Last night I was roaming Austin by my lonesome whilst waiting for a friends show to finish (I had seen it the night before) and this couple was headed towards me. I’m trying to be polite and figure out which side of the sidewalk to move to but their path is zig-zagging back and forth across the concrete like some sort of drunken waltz. As they came closer I realized they were both blind, and holding walking canes. They were laughing so hard, holding each other tightly with their free hands. I could feel the happiness radiating from them like warmth from a fire on a cold day. And as they walked past me I was suddenly filled with happiness myself, because all I could think was, “love is blind.”

Run, Andrew, Run!

I run a lot.

Not so much out of athleticism as out of necessity. When I am upset or frustrated or confused, I put on some shorts and take off. Lately, I’ve come to realize that running is my own personal form of escapism. Some people do drugs or binge watch netflix to escape. I lace up my Nike’s and hit the dirt.

When I’m running, I can shut out the world. I put my headphones in and the music that flows through them is not important so long as it’s LOUD. I’m the type of person who gets stuck

I’m Afraid Of Writing

I’m afraid of writing. And by “I’m afraid of writing,” I mean that I’m afraid of being alone.

I have an unhealthy fear of loneliness. It’s not so much people not liking me that scares me (although I’m not immune to that fear). More often, I find myself afraid of being by myself. This is no good for someone who wants to be a writer. Writing, for most people, and most certainly for me, is a task that most often must be undertaken alone. If I want to write, my company usually comes in the form of a park bench, or a desk, or the quiet solitude of a library. Or perhaps a cat. None of these things are people. I must sit down with myself until

Let’s Write

I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to wrap up 2013 in writing. My family is preparing for a small New Years gathering with a few of our family friends. My mom by making finger foods, and my dad and my brother by watching football. I’m staring at my laptop, listening to the Avett Brothers croon about love and a woman. I’ve got a lot on my mind.

Auditioning Is Scary

I wonder how Victor Hugo would feel about his behemoth of a novel, Les Miserables, becoming a musical. Would he smile at the script, fondly tapping his foot along with the music of the orchestra? Would he feel that squeezing his many words into a four-hour performance is an injustice? Would he shed a tear while witnessing Val Jeans’s transformation, his heart soaring with the notes? I don’t know.

What I do know is that in less than a day I will be auditioning for the role of Enjolras,

All The Time In The World

“If you knew how much work went into it you would not call it genius” -Michelangelo

I’ve been thinking about beauty lately. Specifically, beauty in the form of art; created by human hands shaping the world in which they have been placed. Michelangelo knew something about beauty. Some might call his work a masterpiece. Carved over the course of two years, Pieta was the only creation of his that he ever signed, something he later regretted and vowed never to do again. The piece is considered one of the greatest works of sculpture ever created, if not the greatest. And what struck me most about the piece was this one fact: