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I don't have a computer. What I do have is WebTV. WebTV isn't so bad even with it's limitations.It runs through my phone line and is hooked up to my TV which means I don't have to squint in front of a tiny computer screen. Wonderful. Fabulous. However, at times it really messes me up because I'll spend an hour typing only to find out I'm unable to click on the send button or else it clicks on but refuses to acknowledge whatever it is I want it to acknowledge. So. Because I care deeply about my Smith Mag submission(s) and I have a lot to share with the world, there is no way in hell I'm going to spend a few hours writing my …

I won't waste one more second working on a submission until I know for sure it can be processed through this site..

This one is for you guys at Smith!! You asked for a backstory and you got one. Thanks for the Love!!! Hugs!!!

I boarded the plane on a muggy July afternoon in Columbus and spied an empty aisle seat three rows down on the right. Two pre-teen aged girls sat, backpacks on their laps, in the middle and window seats. “Unaccompanied Minors” was like a neon sign floating above their heads. I plopped myself down next to them in silent collusion with their mothers whom I was sure were somewhere biting their fingernails and figuring how to assuage the hollow pit in their stomachs. I would protect them on the flight, keep all n’er do wells at bay. Mothers stick together like that.
As passengers filed by and the plane filled, I couldn’t help but overhear the girls introducing themselves to each other. …

200,000 dollars on a college degree and I actually botched chicken soup. "Seriously? Seriously," I mused, as I looked down at the bowl I'd little serve to Oliver, let alone my own mother.

Mom has end stage Huntington's Disease and can hardly hold a conversation, or a spoon, but we still have a weekly dinner. Now, with her diet restrictions, I am not only faced with the confoundments of Julia Child's The Joy of Cooking, but I must continue of mincing every morcel past oblivion to avoid a chocking hazard.

As a slightly over privileged twenty something, there are few things in my culinary repertoire beyond organic Annie's Mac & Cheese, so when my very ill mother called beckoning for …

How I found Bela Shiyiman

Luck is a curious entity—unpredictable and impalpable.
Once I was lucky. It was in late March of 1976. My parents and I had just arrived in Ostia Lido, a suburb of Rome, Italy. A train carried us there, and as we stepped out and received tickets for the luggage to be claimed later, we were taken to the small vans that were to take us to the Post Office where the refugee families had to register and look at the advertisements for the apartments for rent on the wall of the La Posta (its Italian name).
The vans could take only a few people, and it so happened that my parents were taken to a van but there was …

I’ve always been a bit of a mess. In my early 20’s and 30’s I got spiritual. It was the opposite of a mess. I was devoted to God, serving children, waking up, and healing. There were only two things: spiritual and not spiritual. Spiritual was shamanism and new age workshops and Boulder. Not spiritual was football, politics, my family and life outside of Boulder. I did so many things to become more spiritual: shamanic apprenticeships, reiki trainings, vision quests, solitude, spiritual teachers and almost being exorcized by a ‘healer’ who said the antichrist lived inside me. I took risks in order to transcend and unlearn my conditioning and personality. I didn’t want to be who I …

Telling people about how Noah preposed is always difficult. I always tell the story because it was me that came to him. I always say this:
I was going to his school and it was really hard. because walking into a place I hadn't been in for four years, a place with not a lot of good memories..it wasn't a good feeling. I felt trapped again. But as I saw him I knew this was the thing to do, I had to give one last message before I could say I tried everything. I had everything I needed; a copy of my file, the chat printed out, and a list of websites. His table looked up, they all knew I was here for a …

My Life So Far,
I May Still Be Young, But
Young & Restless.
I've Had My Up's, My Downs
And Everything In- Between.
Hope. Love. Rescue. Strength. Courage.
Every Word, Every Letter, Ever Lyric.
Reminds Me Of Something,
But My Life, If Only A Sad Song.
And Its On Repeat.

It was a million dollar wedding reception for a wealthy young New York couple at an old Spanish military fort on an oasis of green in the terse Texas Hill Country. I was hanging lights under one of the large white canopied tents amidst the clamor of working crew when the white rental van that she was driving came flying across the grounds blaring hip hop and blowing a dust cloud over us as it pulled to an abrupt halt amidst the shimmering waves of heat rising off the field.

“I’ll bet it’s another one of those damn New Yorkers from the design group,” my friend Jimmy on the lighting crew said as the girl who’d been driving stepped out of the van, …

Death Mattress

Thank God I hadn’t been trying to sleep with Naseef when my face swelled to extraordinary proportions, and I feared my own reflection.
In spite of the fact that the whole world over knows that looks aren’t everything, they are something.
Naseef and I met at a quaint hostel in Salvador, Brazil, my third city on a trip that was to take me around South America for about a year (or until my money ran out).
I’d flown from NYC to Sao Paolo, Brazil, spent a week in Rio Di Janeiro, and then flown north to experience quite a different aspect of Brazilian culture.

Although I’d hoped to find a place to CouchSurf (a community that …

Most people see the “Police Academy” movies and laugh. I went through the real Police Academy, and felt nothing but pain.

It started in May or so of 1975 when the CETA program, a long-defunct government jobs program, announced that it was hiring people who had some college education. It was the middle of a recession, and I remember standing on a long, long line that went around the block. People from every phase of my life were there: elementary school, junior high school, high school, college. Janet Rosen, tall, dark-haired and beautiful, whom I was “in love with” in the sixth grade, was there. I said hello to her, but she showed no more interest now than she did then.

Eventually, …

Tell me. Is it normal for a table to just explode, without prompt, without warning.
One moment it is there. The next it has shattered into one thousand glass shards, scattered across the floor.
How can you make sense of it? What was an ordinary, solid piece of household furniture is now a carpet of broken glass. Each piece has taken its own form, each went in its own direction, each broke a little differently.
Why does glass shatter that way? There is no logic. There is no path. It just explodes without rules or regulation.
Why did one piece just fall next to my feet? The other made it all the way to the bedroom door.
Why are some pieces so …

I am attempting to change a diaper and am, admittedly, not doing very well. Really, it’s easier said than done. It is a constant battle between my fifteen-month old daughter and me. My daughter is winning; she has graciously allowed the sludge accumulating in her diaper to overflow and spill out onto the floor, as well as all over my clothing—I am forced to continue in nothing but my underwear. The floor will have to wait, for now.

I put her down on her back and immediately she starts to wail. I shake my head in disbelief. I’ve only been changing her diaper multiple times a day for every day of her life! Yet somehow …

I had been happy when I was younger, but there was always something missing. Then I had a best friend and she decided she'd teach me things. She taught me what to do if I had a boyfriend, and showed me what he would do. I was only six years old. I didn't tell anyone. Then years later eighth grade came along. I felt a void that couldn't be filled but I realized that pain took my mind off of everything. I cut myself with anything: pocketknife, stone, paper clip, safety pin. I still didn't tell anyone. One night I decided I had had enough and I planned my suicide. I put music on and decided to do it. Then, I listened. Songs played that …

I had been happy when I was younger, but there was always something missing. Then I had a best friend and she decided she'd teach me things. She taught me what to do if I had a boyfriend, and showed me what he would do. I was only six years old. I didn't tell anyone. Then years later eighth grade came along. I felt a void that couldn't be filled but I realized that pain took my mind off of everything. I cut myself with anything: pocketknife, stone, paper clip, safety pin. I still didn't tell anyone. One night I decided I had had enough and I planned my suicide. I put music on and decided to do it. Then, I listened. Songs played that …

I lie there...the frozen floorboards sending jolts through my spine. The darkness is creeping up on my slowly. I feel the faces staring at me, their cold, harsh eyes piercing mine like arrows cutting through the air.

My heart started to thud vigorously, pounding on my chest...the drugs are finally kicking in. The darkness is getting nearer, i feel the light tingles on my toes as the cold air lingers on my pale skin.

My eyes wander down to my arms, the skinny fragile bones protruding my skin, my bony fingers gripping tightly on the empty, white prescription bottle, the lid lying inches away from me.

I feel the darkness drawing near, my pulse quickens as I start to panic, …

What I'm posting here is not an exact excerpt from chapter 1, nor is it an exact excerpt of anything off of my blog. What I will do here is give you the link so you can read my only published essay thus far. Additionally, here, I'm going to give you an informal overview of my life. In the actual memoir I'm writing, the story begins 1/94 when I fell homeless while living in Melbourne, AUS. I have written approximately 4 query letters to literary agents. No bites yet, but I know I have something extremely unique and also quite shocking.

Since my first episode of homelessness in 1/94, I have had approximately 80 addresses. To this day …

Forgiving Thy Neighbor…A Mother’s Day Gift


Every morning, often before the sun rises, Sophie takes me out for a walk around the block. We acquired this ferocious, fluffy little watch beast because Molly said, “Life’s not worth living without a puppy.” So, every morning, in the rain, snow, sleet, hail, dark of night, or just before dawn, I can be found outside walking with, and cleaning up after, that which makes life worth living for Molly. Actually, I look forward to this special time of the day because it is then that I am prompted to sing and pray and worship. I’m sure the neighbors think I’m nuts. With one hand I hold the leash, whilst with the other I hold the poopy …

One Saturday a month, I meet with my sister at the Starbucks in Barrington. I am always on time, she is not. I am okay with this. She has always run on her own clock. She arrives irritated by the fact that I have beaten her there. Punctuality is boring, she tells me. Boring is one of my many flaws, I tell her. So is punctuality.

She leads a very chaotic and hectic life. She travels all over the country in her very important sales position and is frequently late for appointments due to circumstances that are outside of her control. Air traffic controllers, car rental agents and cashiers conspire against her ability to manage her time. Even on Saturday when it is …
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