the f word

failure I. such an unassuming                          word, that such an unassuming mind-bending word such an unassuming mind-bending word that permeates my psyche claws into those ¿forgotten? cobwebbed corners of             my soul and whispers to me that failure will…

Today I signed away my life on the solid line

(not exactly my life, but 10.5 post-grad months) to a program called Life Together. I signed away doubt about my immediate post-grad future, I signed away a barnacle of perfectionism (because no matter how great a program is, it’s never perfect), I signed away last-minute decisions and new-sprung opportunities, I signed away reckless travel adventures (for the time…

don’t you dare call me beautiful

We are our fear and hope and courage and pain and love and doubt and anger and salty, dripping tears mixed with snot, sweat and redemption. To recognize us for who we appear to be instead of who we are actively being is to deny, in a way, the truth of who we experience ourselves to be.

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my heart hurts from pounding deeply as I turn and toss roll and squirm restlessly the whole night through my heart hurts as it has beat to a seeming thousand similarly sleepless sunrises anxiety’s drill sargeant my alarm clock rat-a-tat-tatting deep into my exhausted bones my mind whirs, clicks and grumbles jostled forward by irregular…

a/lone

Soft wafts of bittersweet solitude
To settle upon me like a summer blanket
Sticky spider’s web of just and only me

rush /\ pressure

“There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence to which the idealist most easily succumbs: activism and overwork. The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many…

¿[questions]?

If you are a wandering soul, a wondering soul, then you’re a soul that lives by questions. If you’re a lonely soul, a lusting soul, then you’re a soul that lives flirting with edges. If you’re a restless soul, a downward spiraling soul, then you’re a soul that lives asking for more. Oh, you wandering, wondering, lonely…

Crying in the Embrace of the Great Lakes

As snow drifts into winter wind and winter wind caresses snow into shapely domes, I cry for the igloo I once built around myself in a north-facing bedroom in a small Wisconsin town. I cry for a no-in-nor-out igloo, lacking a trapdoor for letting in love’s light. I cry for the sleepless thrashing nights spent…

hypochondria

I. being a hypochondriac is a feminist issue there must be something wrong with me                         wrong with us always and especially when most functional for what else are we? we, such sorry, dependent creatures if not to need, if not for always needing      nurturing  …

Tonight, I dress up as Elastigirl and

go to a party of a bunch of real graduated people who work on gay rights. Yesterday, our campaign won its first victory and I turned in probably the worst Wellesley paper that I have ever written. I might not be falling in love, I can do 5 pullups, 7 on a good day, and…

s.p..a…c…..e……………… [part the first]

My birthday gathering has wound down a bit by now. The background noise from adjacent conversations is no longer shout-inducing. People have relaxed beautifully into each other despite (or perhaps because?) of the fact that they’re wearing ridiculous outfits and drinking hard apple cider on a cool Saturday September evening. I find myself standing in…

Cotton-Eye Joe, bell hooks and National Coming Out Day

It’s National Coming Out Day and all of these self-prescribed labels zinging around the internet are making me anxious. Labels feel like the women’s shirts with shoulders too narrow for actual upper body strength and the undressing stares of lounging men as I walked Valparaíso’s streets. Labels feel like the first time I put on…