Mark O’Brien

In case you missed the memo, kids, we’re in deep kimchi. That’s right. According to this measured and highly objective headline in that paragon of levelheadedness and evenhandedness, The Washington Post, “World has nine years to avert catastrophic warming, study shows.” See what I mean? We’re on the brink of an apocalyptic something or other, but it’s not the same apocalyptic something or other that a varied assortment of fatalistic cranks and superstitious crackpots have been predicting since God invented dirt. What’s most amusing about this story is that the cranks and crackpots... Continue Reading

An election is coming. Universal peace is declared, and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry. (George Eliot, nee Mary Ann Evans) Here in Connecticut — the Nutmeg State, the Land of Steady Habits, the Constitution State, the Provisions State, the Blue Law State, the Freestone, and Brownstone State, the Land of the Uptight Pilgrim, the State with More Nicknames Than You Can Shake a Stick At, and the Bring Your Checkbook State — I happened to watch a gubernatorial debate last Tuesday evening. The candidates are the incumbent, Democrat Uncle Ned “Promise... Continue Reading

I made a brief reference to a story I’ll recount here in an earlier post. It warrants elaboration here because the subject of planning seems to have crept into many of the conversations I’ve been engaged in of late, including this one with my friend, Jim Vinoski. The notion of planning always troubled me. It still does. It reminds me of lyrics from the West, Bruce & Laing song, “Sifting Sand”: Like sifting sand/The things I feel they flow right through my hands. Given the nature of change, plans have always felt fleeting, ephemeral to me. And so it is that, because our children... Continue Reading

I’ve written about my depression before. But since this is Mental Health Awareness Month — and since every month should be Mental Health Awareness Month — I want to revisit the topic. In that earlier piece, I wrote my depression was characterized by stark, unrelenting terror. It resulted in a kind of hypervigilance, an exaggerated fight-or-flight sensitivity to every movement and sound, regardless of source or substance. It also resulted in a distinct lack of appetite. The act of mowing my lawn was particularly panic-inducing for two reasons: Because I had to watch where the mower was going,... Continue Reading

I’ve been having trouble with the notion of authenticity for quite some time. My first challenge is one of definition. According to dictionary.com, authentic, whence derives authenticity, is defined like this: adjective: 1. not false or copied; genuine 2. having an origin supported by unquestionable evidence; authenticated; verified 3. representing one’s true nature or beliefs; true to oneself or to the person identified: 4. entitled to acceptance or belief because of agreement with known facts or experience; reliable; trustworthy In that definition, numbers 2 and 4 are subjective; that... Continue Reading

As the obsessive language freak I happen to be, I’m always sensitive to new expressions creeping into the vernacular. Most frequently, those expressions are meaningless; that is, they don’t actually express anything of substance. But they’re valuable for what they signal. And they signal four things about the people who use them. Those people: Likely don’t know what they’re talking about Don’t want you to know they don’t know what they’re talking about Need to fill up some time while they try to figure out what they’re talking about Want you to believe they’re sincere and... Continue Reading

I was sitting at my desk the other day with a characteristically blank look on my face. Anne walked by and asked, “What are you doing?” I said, “Nothing.” “You’re actually doing absolutely nothing?” she asked. “Is that even possible?” “Well, since you seem to be rather insistent about it, I’m drifting,” I said. “Drifting?” “Yes,” I said. “Did you see where that last thought went?” “No.” “Neither did I,” I replied. “And that’s exactly the point. I had the thought. It went somewhere. Now I have to find it.” “What’ll you do with it?” “I don’t... Continue Reading

When I visit schools to share my children’s books, the students always ask, “How do you know anyone will like them?” I say, “I don’t. But if I don’t write and publish them, I’ll never know.” When I write fiction for adults, the adults who read it always ask, “How do you know anyone will like it?” I say, “I don’t. But if I don’t write and publish it, I’ll never know.” When I tell people I’m taking a podcasting workshop because I want to do a podcast of my own, the people I tell always ask, “How do you know anyone will like it?” I say, “I don’t. But if I don’t... Continue Reading

In 1999, I was working at a small public-relations firm in Avon, Connecticut. My dentist was in the next town east, which, oddly enough, is West Hartford. (Everything is relative.) Exiting I-84 on Prospect Street, I drove north on Prospect, intending to turn left onto Farmington Avenue, the street on which my dentist’s office was located. At the intersection of Prospect and Farmington, I was the first to reach the traffic light. It was red. I stopped. I saw a woman step off the curb to my right, intending to cross Prospect Street. Appearing to have some physical and cognitive disabilities,... Continue Reading

Author’s Note: This story is an elaboration on a comment I posted in a thread initiated by my friend, Tammy Eldredge. It’s also a faithful recounting of an actual event and a very valuable lesson. In 1974, I was playing in a band with some guys who rented a house on West Street in Rocky Hill, Connecticut. We rehearsed in that house. The band was your garden-variety, blues-rock cover band. My bandmates and I were your garden-variety, blues-rock amateurs, for which playing in a band was an attempt to do something constructive while we were otherwise getting drunk, high, and myriad other forms... Continue Reading