Journaling

I’m Rubber, You’re Glue

Posted on October 29, 2009. Filed under: Brain Dump, Journaling | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

“I’m rubber, you’re glue. Your words bounce off me and stick to you.”
Many of us have heard this riposte at one point in our lives, though it may be only a distant memory. Still, it is recently that I have discovered the true value of yet another children’s meter.
I just spent a month’s stay in [...]

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Dorothy’s Return Trip

Posted on October 29, 2009. Filed under: Brain Dump, Journaling | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

I trudged along a yellow path painted into the asphalt by the tracks. My tattered and dull ruby slippers flopped against the pavement, my baskets heavy with too many clothes and not enough money. A butterfly was thrown from his path by a passing train. I heard the munchkins chittering behind me, high-pitched commentary on [...]

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Sticks and Stones

Posted on June 5, 2009. Filed under: Brain Dump, Journaling | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

I bet you probably didn’t know that I dream vividly every night.

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Molded by the Hands of Fate

Posted on October 10, 2008. Filed under: Brain Dump, Journaling | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

I am a self-mutilator, a lover, a barefooter, a smoker, a fighter, a recovering addict, a picker, an advocate for humanity, a teenaged human being.
Is any wonder that I take medication three times a day, or need a dose of nicotine and music just to feel the earth spin beneath me?
I am one of seven [...]

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The Not-Quite-Ripe Plum, the Meat Truck, and the Dream of the Butcheress

Posted on July 16, 2008. Filed under: Brain Dump, Journaling | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

I bade my friend good-bye as I walked past the grocer’s loading dock, the carts of food left for trash for flaws of expiration dates, of cracks and dents, of irregulation and irreverence for the perfection held in such esteem by the forty-year-old manager unable to see past his automaton doors, his automaton life. Several [...]

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