Stop collecting regrets because life is too short -- plus, they don't increase in value.
I was kind of worried how my readers would react when I posted a couple of poems. Turns out my friends might be a bunch of poem haters.
It's kind of weird when you reverse roles with an elderly parent. Try laying down the law to a grumpy old man.
The shocking murder of a local Lyft driver has me rethinking doing rideshare again.
I hate typos and other mistakes in articles on professional news sites. Is it just me or does no one seem to give a damn about quality anymore?
The opioid addiction crisis is out of control. I've had a number of drug addicts or recovering addicts in my car. What's going on is just crazy.
The Year of Sean has been going on for 364 days but sadly is coming to an end. One more official blissful day of freedom remains before I'm compelled by the Faustian agreement I made to look for a regular job. Of course, as the Houseguest pointed out, there could be a Year of Sean Part II if no one hires me.
Do you ever wonder if you're wasting your time blogging and ask yourself whether you should quit? That was the question I was asking myself the other day.
Being a single guy and cooking for yourself is tough — at least it is if you're me — unless you consider baking a shitload of asparagus to be cooking.
Is it me or are robots stealing our jobs? Seriously, they're starting to crop up everywhere. They even have robot prostitutes. Where does it stop?