Melissa Richardson Banks

Dating ... dang. I am reminded of a saying that my father used to say "don't force what don't fit." Online dating seems so forced ... and I can say -- after months of posting profiles first on Match, then Tinder, cancelling Match and trying Bumble, and then checking out OkCupid -- this whole process is so ridiculous. Whatever happened to meeting in real life? The funny thing is that I have actually seen a few of these guys in person after viewing their profiles online, and while I know they saw mine (those online systems notify you!),  from across the room, we might make eye contact, perhaps give a small wave, and even mouth a shy "hello" without outing either one of us ... it seems like, down deep, we are still shy middle-schoolers, and now it's just easier to post anonymously online than to approach each other and avoid the possible real-life pain of rejection? Heck, most women (and men) won't shoot anyone down for a genuine cordial attempt at

Today is Día de Los Tres Reyes Magos (Three Kings' Day) , and while religiously this day is also known as the Epiphany , I had an epiphany of my own when I realized I lost three men in my life during 2017 who were "kings" to me in their own unique ways. The first king who passed away was my father, H. Gary Richardson. While his soul exited his body on January 17, 2017, the last day that I spent with him alive on earth was January 6, 2017, so this day of kings will remain imprinted in my mind. His spirit is alive in my heart today. The second king who I lost this past year was my sweet dog Vatche. It was so painful to be forced to make the decision to let him go on Saturday, May 13, 2017, exactly 12 years to the day that he entered my life. He taught me so much, and I miss him every day. I aspire to keep him alive by emulating all of his goodness in whatever I do. The third king was my friend Greg Escalante. I had known of Greg for years before I finally met him

About a year ago, a series of monthly mishaps took place that, even taken in a singular fashion much less as a group, were life-changing. It began with a car accident backing out of my driveway, which should have been the other guy's fault, and wasn't; continued on with a near-electrocution caused by a leaky roof and the neglect of a slumlord, an unexpected fall into a manhole on the 6th Street Bridge of which demolition was slated to start the next day, and ending with a sucker-punch assault by a murderer on parole in broad daylight near some of the city's most stellar cultural venues. I say "ending" but that was the beginning of renewed panic attacks and what I now realize was post-traumatic stress disorder. These events reminded me of a story by my father told to me often over the years about recognizing signs and taking personal responsibility for moving on. The story goes something like this: a man was stranded on a deserted island, and prayed to God, askin

It's been years since I've written on this blog, and this past year -- 2016 -- was such a helluva one that I realized I should be writing about it all. After all, I survived an auto accident, falling into a manhole on a bridge slated for demolition, getting randomly assaulted by a murderer on parole, and traveling cross-country with two dogs, my mother and most all of my possessions in the heat of summer. It's been hard for me to figure out where to write ... my handwriting is painful to execute nowadays so typing is best, and I've struggled if I should share online or file my thoughts and experiences offline. Ultimately, I decided it was best to share online because I hope for interaction since I mostly work in solitude and crave communication. While I'm perhaps best known as an extrovert, I'm really an introvert who keeps everything inside. So, here's to a new day ... daily meditations, reflections, observations, and more as I move forward, one ste

My father passed away. I knew it would happen someday, but I never expected it at this time. Since 1993, he's been asking me to come back to Texas, and so finally this year, a few months ago, I returned. I knew I needed to see him, and waited until I could slip away for a couple of days. I surprised him, and suddenly realized how ill he really was. He always sounded so positive and upbeat during our regular phone calls. I was glad that my brother Eric was with me so we could attend to his health needs, but it was too late.

I have left my mark in Downtown Los Angeles ... and now it is time to go. - Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone