a million tiny things
mothering in a changing climate
find me out there
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Memoir, myself, and I: a learning curve
I. College, freshman year
They are everywhere, the pretty actors. In the dingy hallways, the empty rooms, the ratty bathrooms, the sidewalk. They are pacing, stretching out their faces into plastic gargoyles of exaggerated emotion. They seem to sing a dissonant chorus of narcissism, with the endless “Me, me, me, me, ME, ME, ME, ME, me, ME, me, ME, me, ME, me, ME, …
Tags: writing
lasting love (unless we fry the planet and all die)
It’s that season when singleness becomes slightly more burdensome, you know, “beware the ides of February.”
And I'm single, again. Just in time for Valentine’s Day. Not that it’s that big a deal. There’s a part of me that’s just profoundly relieved not to have to produce some obligatory-yet-heartfelt gift and the requisite accompanying love note. …
pretty green
Those aren't my boobs. Mine are not so well-dressed. That's some kind of soy-based fair trade thing called a camisette or something...
One totally and completely not-green thing about me: my bras. They were an immediate post-divorce purchase, during the reckless fuck-it-all-use-the-credit-card stage. Which coincided with the I’m-so-lost-just-tell-me-what-to-do …
Tags: green clothes, organic