Part of the appeal of the Internet, for me anyway, is that you know me through my words. My words have power. I remember in high school when I was a mousy, socially-awkward kid in the back of the English class, no one paid me any attention. Not until I handed in my first writing assignment. . . . → Read More: This Is Me
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I think Dante had intended to watch me tie back my hair when he jumped onto the bathroom vanity. He sat patiently, waiting for an ear scratch. Then he saw the daddy long legs in the sink. This new creature captivated Dante’s simple mind. He lowered his face close to it to . . . → Read More: Love Story Damaged lining along the esophagus and stomach. Four more weeks . . . → Read More: Answers When I look at the picture of the little tan house in the woods, the one we are so close to calling ours, I’m convinced that I can have the life I imagine. This house is full of promises. I look at the secluded lot it is tucked away on and think of peace and tranquility. I see . . . → Read More: The Things I Want My mom and I were discussing make-up and other girlie topics when this conversation occurred: Me (referring to my brother): He’s pink too. I’m not the only one with pink undertones. Mom: I don’t know where you get it from. I have yellow undertones. Your father is Italian. He’s probably yellow too. Little sister: What am . . . → Read More: At Least It Won’t Be a Surprise When She’s Older |
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