Author: G. Pearson

Like a painting, I was unfinished. And you like to start projects, but not ever complete them. Until my frontal lobes developed–until I was a fully completed sculpture, I could not finish this poem. Confusion of that time stuck like putty in the holes of my frontal lobes.

Tags anatomy, biology, brain development, creative nonfiction, Daily Poetry, daily writing, frontal lobes, life lessons, life of a writer, love, neurology, Poem Of The Day, Poetry, psychology, short story, teenage brain, teenagers, Writing

Fiction Writing

Car Ride: Tuesday

Karla: I told you about even replying to that email. It was a can of worms. Sometimes in life, you gotta listen to your head.

Daniela: Sure Karla I know that, but sometimes in life you have to want to love yourself enough to want to do the thing that’s going to make you love yourself more.

Karla: Who the hell is that supposed to help? It doesn’t even sound like you know what you’re remedying.

Daniela: It’s more complicated than you know. I let my guard down.

Karla: Daniela, the email before it said, “Be careful.” How could you not be careful after a statement like that?

Daniela: Let’s just say I have a blind spot that isn’t nearly as gaping as the one that let you think a lane switch wouldn’t completely cut that guy off.

Karla: What g–

Dialogue is tough.

Focus on the road. Save a life.

Tags can of worms, car accident, comedy, dialogue, distracted driving, driving, email, eyes on the road, Fiction, safe driving, safety first, tragedy, work life balance

Writing

Schedule Monster

When I wake up I want to be a grown-up. And I’ll tell you why. Every night after dinner, my mom and dad tell me we have a big day planned tomorrow and tell me all the things we have to do. And every night after talking about it all, I just wish for once there was nothing to do all day. But when I said this to mom and dad last night, they told me that living without a plan was a surefire way to attract the schedule monster. The schedule monster runs around in your brain asking you (1) what you’re going to do (2) why you don’t have a plan for the day (3) why you don’t have a plan for your life, all day over and over because there was no plan. I asked if that still happens when you become a grown-up and they said yes. So why do I want to be a grown-up when I wake up? Because then at least I can decide what time to have dinner.

creative nonfiction Writing

hour for hour

My dog stares at me with glossy, saddened, yearning eyes. So I stop tasks I’ve started and pick him up, peppering him with kisses. Until moments later when he wants to be put down again and then I am left to start all over. And each time I leave a little more saddened.

Tags attachment, attachment issues, chihuahua, covid, creative nonfiction, daily writing, dog owner, dog training, dog writing, life of a writer, pandemic, parenting, per problems, short story, small dog, terrier mix, Writing

Writing

Melt Again

Collapsing inward

Ice where there shouldn’t be cold

Snow on peonies

Tags haiku, Micro Poetry, Poem Of The Day, Poetry, short story

Writing

Leaning In

Replying to the last of my clients and closing Outlook, I lament the ticket to D.C. that will go unused tonight. I fight back a tightness in my throat that I’ve come to understand needs two fingers of whiskey to solve at the end of the day. No one did this to me.

I always said you’re not ready to start your own company until you can’t remain at any other company.

Truthfully, I let myself steal from myself. I stole my future from myself. Procrastinating to avoid managing emotions about living. The reward of putting things off…that feeling becoming an addiction in itself. A dream adjacent my true dream.

My vision for this company is like rain. Cleaning out self-pity and distractions that tug at my memory, emotional reserves, concentration, and—

“¿Qué cenamos?”

“Dejame…”

He scurries away like I’ve just raised my hand to slap him. Maybe he’ll ask his father and be scared enough to actually leave me alone. I love my kids. I love my kids. I love them. But I can’t love my clients, kids, boss, husband, churchgoers, everyone! Can I?

I pour the whiskey and set my out of office email with no return date.

Writing

NFT’s Me

Meet me 4pm

Hand on hand like a mirror

“I’ve missed you darling.”

Writing

Rotten Child

Riled up all day long

Judging eye at my mother

When I’m the issue

Tags Daily Poetry, daily writing, family, family poetry, haiku, Micro Poetry, mom and daughter, parenting, Poetry, Writing

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