I received a handful of questions on my poll. A couple were specifically about me and a few were asking for my take on a thing, so I thought I’d address a couple of those today. I have temporarily titled this series AMA (Ask me anything) but that’ll switch super fast if I come up with anything adorable. Ideas welcome. More questions welcome. I’ll include … Continue reading AMA / writing
I want to be the first to know what I want to say, but it doesn’t always work out that way. The words I knead in my mind still need shaping today, still need baking today. I proof them on the countertop because it feels like everyone is standing so close together that it has warmed the air. You never really need the scarf when … Continue reading halfbaked snacks
I want the universe to know I can write about small things. And by small, I don’t mean brain-clot-small, I don’t mean prison-cell-small, I don’t mean urn-of-ashes-small, I mean, door-hinge-small. I could write about door hinges. I could find a story there. I see beauty there. One time, a contractor told me that most door hinges don’t usually break, they just stop being able to … Continue reading rara borboleta
Last night wasn’t the first night of un-sleep, but it was the first night I took medicine for it. Medicine that decided I needed awakeness more than it needed to do its job. I got out bed to write instead, but it was too cold, too dark. Earlier in the day, it had been too hot, too bright. Sometimes my chair is too short. Sometimes … Continue reading not out of the woods
I write a lot about water lately, and my therapist thinks that means something, but sometimes I just want to work with a certain kind of clay. It’s already made. I want to exhaust it, to use every piece while it’s fresh in my hands. Can you imagine how long it’ll take me to shoot every shotglass of ocean? To kiss every thimble of it? … Continue reading journal: blue chip
I don’t remember learning how to love, originally. I only remember the origins of little love-habits. I remember holding onto my stuffed elephant, tucked safely in my right arm always– a light grey beast with pink-tinted ears. He must’ve been a foot tall, if he could have stood on his own, but he couldn’t. He needed me. His fur was worn down, paper thin, from … Continue reading you are loved, in the active voice.