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Currently Browsing: Life

The Stories We Do Not Tell

rejoice that our lips
did not permit more stragglers,
more detail, more vulnerability
toward those to whom it does not belong.

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River Song

for the first time,
i don’t want to go anywhere.

i want to stand Here and let
the rushing water flow on its own,
past my toes, over my chilled skin;

let it pull my hair forward over my face,
blind me and pass me by
instead of carrying me along.

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Shaman Song

I dream each night of dark water. Pulsing, swirling, ever approaching, but it does not drown my toes. The threat, but never the reality. Waiting.

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Why publishing triggers impostor syndrome

We’re terrified to deceive you into thinking we’re “good enough.” We feel weirdly guilty for making every sale.

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How to get your rebellious monkey brain to write every day

Do you make vows to write every day, but fail at keeping them? Here’s the trick to solving that…

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Do you smell that?

Scientists have proven that our olfactory sense is the most direct route to memory — and yet we can’t keep any of it.

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When I die…

Given warning, these are the things I would do.

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Do you feel validated?

Imagine someone you knew did this for you on a daily basis. Imagine you were someone for someone else.

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Of rainbow nails and unlocked doors

I was at my friend Cathy’s house for an overnight brainstorming session about the new blogging series we are putting together for Inkwell Basics. Between work sessions (okay, fine, and drooling over boys in movies, and eating tiramisu, and playing with her hilarious cats), we ventured into town, where she spotted some funky nail polish that was on sale. She doesn’t get to mix it up very often because she has a top-level day job in which order and corporate dress are the law, but she felt the urge and scooped them up anyway. When we got back to her place, she sampled it all by painting one nail in each color — blue, green, yellow, everything she’d bought. She gave a pleased smile and mused, “You know, there’s just something so freeing about having rainbow-painted nails.” On the way out of town, I stopped back at the shop she’d found them at and bought one of each myself.  Her comment and smile were a pleasant temptation, and I haven’t bought anything but Grownup Red and Look-I’m-Professional Pink in a long dang time. A few days later, I did the same thing she had done; I got out all my new cosmetic toys and painted each nail a different color. I used a grapey purple, a goldenrod yellow, an amazing orange-red that would make Crayola proud, a deep oceanic blue, and the palest of kelly greens. I walked around with them like that for a few days, and she was right. They did make me smile every time I looked down, because they brought back memories of a fun weekend. But it wasn’t because of freedom. It had nothing to do with originality. It wasn’t even exerting my own individualism; I was just parroting her. The whimsy was gone. Idea was just stale. ***** New story. I was getting together with one of my favorite combination of friends at Eileen’s house. (They’re hilarious, but that’s a long story I’ll tell you some other day.)  On her property there is an external building which her husband uses as an office, and our plan was to commandeer it for the evening to tell goofy, possibly off-color stories to each other and commiserate about womanhood and life in general. We stood on the deck of the office and waited to get in. Eileen fumbled with the keys and was having visible trouble getting the door to open.  She said, “This lock is... read more

Simplicity challenge

From the far corner of the living room, our four-year-old G piped up and said, “We should get rid of all my toys, too. I don’t really need them.” So, we did.

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