If I wrote a memoir consisting of a series of vignettes, these would be appropriate titles...

"How to bribe you friends with stuffed animals and steal things by stuffing them in your socks:  Kindergarten at it's finest"

"Welcome to Indiana University, where you best is never good enough and you're even dumber than you thought"

"Shut up...please."

"Welcome to CrossFit:  You'll never sit down quickly again."

"Not a way in this world, Lady:  The day I kicked an employee at Victoria's Secret."

"I Am Not Dainty."

"The Story of a Reed: A sixteenth of a millimeter too much here and you've wasted 35 hours of your life."

"My Pinterest boards make me seem so fucking crafty but what functioning adult has time to craft?"

"Before I hire you, I'm going to need you to sing a song about ice cream."

"If you sit on this bucket, you will be fired."

"Stop Sleeping With My Therapist:  How I survived group therapy and thrived in spite of it."

"Buck The Fuck Up."

"The Beatles?  Who are the Beatles?  Here, let me sing you this Bible verse."

"I'm sorry, I don't read books shaped like that."

"Thankful for space, among other things:  A Thanksgiving Tale."

"The First Time I PR'd My Snatch."

"Here at UGA, we're better than you, and we know it."

"You only have a Scarlet A?  That's nothing.  She's got a Scarlet R."  (An accidental parody)

"There are plenty of Mohicans.  Let's not get worked up over nothing."

This came from nowhere

Hope is fleeting, elusive
like the fireflies on a warm summer night.
Racing towards dusk, palms to the sky,
you stand, tippie-toed, ten feet tall
to wrap little fingers around light.
It's here, heart fluttering, you come down to earth,
A piece of the mystery is yours.
Close your hands tight, run home, little one,
eyes alive with wonder.
But when you sit down and look for the light
there's nothing but quiet and night,
and your small bit of life,
which you thought you held close
is for some other hand to catch.