Mariano Velez

INKBLOTZ

  • Somewhere Between

    There is a quiet moment each night that almost no one talks about. You lie in bed. The room is dark, except for the faint glow sneaking in around the curtains. The ceiling fan hums its familiar rhythm. Your eyes… more ›

  • Got a Minute?

    Conversations can be a source of great entertainment.And sometimes great discomfort. I’ve had the dubious distinction of experiencing both — sometimes in the same day, often back to back, and once — memorably — in the very same conversation. That… more ›

  • Rules for Thee (But Not for Me)

    There’s a fascinating social experiment happening in plain sight: the same adults who enforce the rules are often the most creative at bending them. Somewhere between “Follow the directions” and “That sign doesn’t really apply to me,” adulthood takes a… more ›

  • Still, I Walk 

    There are many who move through the world carrying more than they reveal. You pass them every day—at stoplights, in hallways, in quiet moments of laughter that arrive right on time.  They are not broken. They are not asking to… more ›

  • Like Molding Clay, But With Words Instead

    When I first started my blog, I had a very clear vision for it. It was going to be my place to offer observations, rapid reactions to issues in education, and—if I’m being honest—to become one of those people other… more ›

  • Too Deep for a Tuesday

    I am not a philosophical person—though I do seem to spend a fair amount of time thinking on a philosophical level, which feels like a technicality philosophers would absolutely argue about. To me, philosophy is food for reflection. It’s universal.… more ›

  • A Day In The Life

    A Casual, Day-Long Stroll in My Shoes The day starts like any other day.Which is to say: against my will. Weekends are exempt from this story. Those are mythical creatures. Monday through Friday, though? Any one of them will do.… more ›

  • On Writing, Remembering, and Talking Too Long

    There’s a particular kind of conversation that only seems to happen after you’ve written a book. Not during interviews. Not in those polite, well-lit moments where someone asks, “So what’s it about?” and you give the version you’ve rehearsed in… more ›

  • A Writers’ Room with No Showrunner and Infinite Coffee

    I sometimes wonder if our dreams are just a carbon-based, innate AI running a late-night Netflix marathon in our skulls. Think about it: all day long, your brain collects data—faces, fears, half-heard conversations, that embarrassing thing you did in seventh… more ›

  • So I like Coffee and Quiet Moments! What are ya gonna do!?

    Quiet mornings are sacred. That’s where thoughts line up, memories wander in, and the day hasn’t started asking for things yet. It’s the opposite of chaos. And I’ve always had a soft spot for those in-between moments—the ones that feel… more ›

  • The Art of School Discipline

    (Or: Why Your Kid Probably Isn’t a Villain, But Also Isn’t Perfect Either) There’s a part of me that’s always been a storyteller. I’ve spent years watching the chaos of childhood—my own and others’—and turning it into little stories that… more ›

  • Like the moon in broad daylight…

    Visible, yet unnoticed.Present, yet somehow distant.It hangs there quietly, pale against the blue sky,as if it doesn’t quite belong to the hour it inhabits. There is something aching about it—a reminder of night in a world that has already moved… more ›

  • Longing…

    Longing for human touch begins as a subtle stir beneath the skin, a tremor of sensation that no words can fully name. It is in the brush of your own fingertips along your arms, in the ghost of a hand… more ›

  • The Noise of Learning

    I used to think learning was supposed to be quiet.Neat. Orderly. Predictable. But in my world, it never sounded that way. It sounded like pencil scratches in the margins of a notebook, screws rattling on a garage floor, the click… more ›

  • Several Hundred Words Later

    We’ve all been there. Not as heroes, not as villains—just as silent witnesses to someone else’s emotional eruption. That strange moment when you realize you’re no longer part of a conversation, but the audience to a performance you never bought… more ›