As a little girl coming up in a household where it was understood that “what happens in this house, stays in this house” and i was expected to “speak when spoken to,” i learned early on that my voice wasn’t valued. it could even be hazardous. (a major goal of childhood is to AVOID the whoopings, … Continue reading
i AM a writer
i am a writer. this is me telling myself. i am reaffirming this because it’s what i need to do. i have trouble owning the title; i still hesitate when saying the words. i know i’ve caused my own discomfort with a definition that is unforgiving. in my head, i’ve failed to become a writer because it’s not … Continue reading
the lost (and found) file
the following is an abandoned post that i discovered last month saved as a “draft.” it’s been chilling all by its lonesome for two years i neglected this blog. i don’t know if i was finished or where i might have been going with this but it’s an interesting (to say the least) snapshot of who i … Continue reading
Note to Self #1: You Will Fall Off the Bike
hey self: you will fall off the bike. everyone does. from down there, where gravity and defeat attempt to seduce you, you’ll ask yourself: do you want to be a rider? bend a corner so smooth and swift you wonder why you were born with legs? do you want to go up against the … Continue reading
Activity vs. inspiration
A quote garnered from the slush of emails I went through mentioned how one might confuse activity with inspired work. Now that I’m writing this, I wish I’d have paid closer attention to the source of the quote. I don’t think I considered the distinction until now. Activity is the routine of writing as a … Continue reading
The perfect stranger
I left the office during my lunch hour. The humidity was high but it was refreshing to leave the confines of air conditioned cubicles. I stopped at the crosswalk for all of two seconds before he leaned in, smiling, and spoke. “The temperature is about as high as I could get my grades back in … Continue reading
how she made me feel
I was an awkward adolescent at Woodrow Wilson Middle School when Maya Angelou helped me get my first published clip. In Mrs. Sebald’s reading class, we were required to select a book from her library of paperbacks to read silently while our peers finished up assignments or tests. I pulled a faded copy of I … Continue reading