I write much less when I'm well.  It makes me want to not be well.  Except, sometimes, it's nice to be well ( Read more... )

 I had to work the welcome desk at the church for a play tonight.  Terrible timing.  Watching an OSU night football game is about my favorite thing to do, right up there with laughing at Mom Jeans.  Anyway, I thought I'd be able to call people for score reports periodically throughout the evening, but my BOSS came to the play and sat right next to ( Read more... )

Twin is gone and the apartment is quiet except for Rainman playing in the family room.  It still smells like her hair product and it's sunny as hell outside.  I feel lonely in so many corners of myself.

Ah, though, it was the best weekend ever.  VH1 will probably feature it.  On Saturday morning we went to get massages.  If I come back in another ( Read more... )

Can I just say that I love graduate school?  Gold-star decision on my part, so hold not your applause.

When I got home today, with sore feet from high heels and grooves on my sternum from my bra, I had a thought that I never have:  I wish there was a boy that I loved here, right now, to hold me very tight because I had a very bad day.  I wished it ( Read more... )

Thank God we are in the final stretch of this miserable summer.  This morning I thought about how at my various orientations we'll probably have to go around in a circle, introduce ourselves, and say a word or two about our respective summers.  People will fawn over their glittering vacations and detail how they got their tans and get that far-away ( Read more... )

This, this we must do on our own.
Reluctantly, we learn to express ourselves 
in dark fields and backseats,
using clumsy words and crumpled Birthday cards
to say the things we only think we feel.

Sometimes, I think,
we are who we become on these
nights too sad to speak of,
when we deflate into outlines of ourselves,
into colors and thoughts and
the sharp ( Read more... )

What a sad summer I've had.  My three closest college friends have (or will have, by the end of this sappy summer) left me:  for California, for Boston, and -- the overachiever -- for Paraguay.  I feel like breaking out into a dramatic version of All By Myself.

It happens, I know, and life, I suppose, goes on.  But this is America, and I have a ( Read more... )

I still miss my dog.

Today, my final day at camp, said cute camper from yesterday's entry said he was going to sell me on E-bay.

Unphased (it happens from time to time), I asked him how much he thought he'd get for me, and he said, "About ten dollars."

He's probably right, or nearly so; we'll see after the bidding ends tonight.  Anyway, since it was the last day of camp ( Read more... )

As far as writers go, I'm a moody one and refuse to write unless I feel right.  So perhaps you might ascertain that the universe has been entirely wrong this summer.  It happens.

I am in love with an eight year old camper.  Don't you ever meet a kid and, after talking to him for a while, tossing a rubber frog around a pool, and making collapsible ( Read more... )