This week, I’m so excited to be linking up with The Chronicles of Chaos’ Write or Die Wednesday.  As I finished the poem I wrote in response to the prompt “What makes you uncomfortable?” I realized that I couldn’t wait to post it.  Because who has patience?  Apparently not I. I hope that you like it, and, also please go check out Mia’s blog!!

photo cred


I think about Pluto and all the vast space between me and that tiny ball of light once deemed a planet.
I wonder how exactly it must have felt to initially discover something new.
To realize that a small freckle of energy in the sky is not a comet, or an asteroid, or a star in a different galaxy
or an imagination, or magic, or the light from a stranger’s flashlight miles and miles and miles out
but something moving around our sun
so cold and far away
and how it must feel for the status of being a planet to be taken, permanently removed
even though it’s years and years and years later
and Clyde Tombaugh is now gone.

I wonder how many nutter butters it would take to line up from here to Pluto
and if I stepped very lightly on that peanut-shaped cookie trail
could I walk myself to the end of the galaxy and back?
Or would one misstep, the wobbling of my heart
plummet me in to a black hole, the endless darkness of the universe.
And without gravity, would I float for mere seconds
before gray clouds scarred my vision and my mind turned off forever?

when the world feels really big
I go in my dungeon, the vast darkness of my mind
and I pull the levers of my brain
to make the world smaller
which always, never occasionally, takes me to the front porch of an Ohio home
when my age existed in single digits, and I knew all my neighbors’ names.
There was one neighbor who had the last name of a type of bird
one that was consistently hard to remember, even though I always did
and one night when I stared at their house on the corner of the street,
where cars would pass by from the main road,
there was one car that careened into the front window of their home
and when the ambulances arrived, the red light blurred my thoughts
and I never found out if the driver was alive.

I think about the first time you held me in your arms
and how I trembled from the pureness of it all.
The way we laid naked and young
baring ourselves against the sticky cloth of a basement couch
when I thought about if life will ever feel the same way again
or will I be forever bound to the memory of this moment
when death feels like high school graduation,
and when you asked me, and I said yes,
and I wasn’t innocent anymore?

I wonder how I will one day leave this earth
and if it will be a car wreck, or a terminal illness, or a peaceful escape near my 98th birthday, surrounded by a loving family, when my last gasp of breath will be taken from me
and in those last sixty seconds before light from a world beyond takes over
will scenes of Pluto, and flashing ambulances, and teenage sex flutter against the back of my eyelids
like pounding rain against the window sill
on the day when I first encountered all these uncomfortable thoughts
about whether we’re all quickly living or slowly dying?
And even though I knew absolutely none of the answers to the questions I was asking
I walked outside to my car parked on the street
and started driving with the windows down
and the rain still poured
and my favorite music was blaring
and the wind in my hair felt like your breath
and I knew exactly how it feels to really be alive.


My First Post of 2015

Hi, all.  I guess this post has been a long time coming.  For those of you who follow along here regularly, you may have noticed that I haven’t posted anything since, ahem… early November.  Originally, it was due to a bad case of the holiday hustle and bustle.  Between a nightmarishly snowy Thanksgiving drive to Ohio and back, condo issues, friend get-togethers, holiday parties, corporate gatherings, and Christmas shopping, I could hardly find time to breathe – let alone, write.  And then, smack dab in the middle of December, I came down with a nasty cold that knocked me on my a$$ for a while.  I think it was my body’s way of saying “enough already.”

As I started to prepare for my first post of 2015, however, I began to feel a level of uncertainty that hasn’t hit me as hard before.  Suddenly, my inbox was flooded with eerie email names like “Is blogging dead?” and “How I plan to stay sane on the internet in 2015.”

What the heck?

In all honesty, these feelings were not foreign to me.  I wasn’t exactly at the point of claiming that blogging had keeled over in its sleep, but perhaps my voice on this blog was struggling a bit, and still struggling, to stay alive.  As with all complex emotions, this revelation caused me to look inwardly, to reflect on the original purpose for writing in this space.


I’m sure it will come as no surprise that this blog was born from a break up.  Yes, like many life events, I needed a boy to stomp on my heart to learn about the deepest parts of my self  He and I split in February of 2011 – about 7 months before my first blog post.  It was actually on Valentine’s day; he came home from work, and claimed it was over.  Nice guy, eh?

The break up was a long time coming, but I struggled with the finality of it.  I also struggled with the fact that I had recently accepted a new job, officially changed my address from Ohio to Arlington, VA, and knew close to no one within 200 miles.

This blog was an outlet for me.  It was a way for me to express my thoughts and feelings without a critical or belittling sounding board – something that was all too prevalent in the course of that relationship.  During late nights over ice cream and glasses of red wine, I wrote to clear my head, to unravel complex emotions into simplified words, and to tell fond and sometimes embarrassing stories.


Similarly, the beginning of this year has been a challenge for me – not much different than the initial days of that 2011 break up except, at this point in time, the critical and belittlingly sounding board is coming from within my own head.  Overwhelmed by professional and personal obligations, I am ashamed by my inability to juggle everything.  It is most disheartening that I am wrestling with the utilization of this space on the internet.  I’m conflicted by the need to remove daily commitments and expectations from my life, and the need to explore the vast landscapes of my mind through writing.

I’ve been wrestling with this conflict for the past four months – until I finally made up my mind.  Despite my hectic schedule and the difficult balances of life, I need to continue to have a place to share my most vulnerable and complex moments – even if 2015 is a year of minimalism for me.

To be clear, I plan for the next eight months to be full of unsubscribing, decompressing, and saying “no” a lot more than saying “yes.”. This means that words will still be posted here and tell stories of love and pain, humor and humility –  but may come sparingly or in small bursts.  I promise to respect the need to outpour my emotions and engage in conversation with this community of readers, but also entertain my need to be quiet at times.

No matter where your life is taking you in 2015, I hope that you’ll forgive my struggle with posting regularly, but most importantly –  I hope that you’ll be along to share your ride.