Unfinished thoughts

If only I

If only you

You won’t, I know

The sun is the wind is

Higher than I thought likely

In just a little while

You know

No, you don’t

It’s all

Just wait

too much

How do I

Would you…

I want–need and want

Is my hair too thin

Are my arms not long enough

Is my heart racing too fast

every time

What to say

Can’t say it.

I’m sorry.

Career? Development?

Both question marks are appropriate because I don’t even know…


Did I mention? My job was just made full time! Oh, right, I did mention it, in my piece about not being able to handle the recent events… But moving on from that, I have been promoted to full time, Editorial Associate, with a very nice pay increase to go along with it. My responsibilities will mostly remain the same, but the expectation both from me and the boss is that I’ll be able to complete more work each month. This is my second week, although only the first working all five days, as the T was not running last Friday… I already miss 4-day weeks. I feel like that sounds entitled or unnecessarily whiny, like “Oh poor you, complaining about having a full-time job when there are so many un/underemployed people.” Yeah, I know. I was one of them for 4 years after graduating from college, so…

I am also taking an online writing course. This is the first week, and I just looked into the first assignment last night, as I didn’t have that much time Monday or Tuesday. My first impressions are that this class might not offer any new skills to someone like me, who has a lot of experience with writing and literature. Some of the stuff they were talking about for this week’s assignment was so obvious to me that I wondered why they were bothering to explain it. However, my intention in signing up was to have deadlines and directed focus for writing, perhaps to remember skills I haven’t used for a while, and hopefully to kick-start my motivation. In addition, there will be a forum for getting peer feedback on writing, so I can be reminded of how to be more effective in my writing endeavors. It’s not a huge time commitment either, so I will find it at the very least something to do.

You know how sometimes, you’ll have a thought as you’re writing, but somehow it escapes you in the few seconds before you can put it down? That’s ridiculous, but it happens. It actually just happened as I came to the end of the last paragraph, and that thought is not coming back.

It’s not that I don’t have motivation now, by the way. No, the trouble is that I always feel motivated to write in the morning when I have to get ready/leave for work, or while I’m AT work, because my creative brain is perverse and cruel like that. When I really have the time and availability to write, I just don’t feel like it. I should, probably, get into the habit of forcing myself to open a word document and write. Or maybe do some pen-and-paper writing every day. The act of writing with a pen promotes creativity, you know.

A Little Levity

Some awesome rhyming/alliterative phrases I’ve come across in the past month or two while editing:

Classic Jurassic (we’re publishing a paleontology book. Why?… we’re still kind of wondering…)

Judicial officials

voluminous oeuvre (my favorite)



and I wish I had something more to say on this… I really wish I could share some of the typos that result in hilarious sentences, but that seems inappropriate. I’ll just have to enjoy them myself.

Trying to Process

Living in Boston for this past week has been, to say the least, strange.

The tragic events at the Marathon this past Monday came smack in the middle of arrangements with my employer to make my job full time. This was meant to be my first full-time week, but as you might have guessed, I didn’t go to work today.

I usually only go through Copley in the mornings, but I can take the bus and avoid it altogether. Knowing that the T station would still be closed and the area probably not the best destination right now, that’s what I’ve been doing. I have yet to see the scene at all in person. And, although the bombing was a huge thing, it wasn’t affecting my day-to-day life much this week. Until this morning. That’s when I was informed through various sources online that MBTA service was suspended. As events unfolded, or unraveled, over the next few hours, it became clear that most of the Boston area was on lockdown. My part of the city did not fall in the big orange blob, but I felt it best to stay inside anyway. A few hours later, lockdown was extended to basically all of greater Boston, which includes me. I am not happy not to have been outside today. I could go out for a little bit, I guess, but I don’t need anything, and I feel like it would be best to stay in. There is an air of tension that very possibly comes from me, making me feel oddly on edge but calm at the same time. Calm, because I am most likely safe in my home (JP isn’t central to the manhunt, unless something has changed that hasn’t been reported), but on edge because this chase is still going on, and because things are uncertain.

Uncertainty in some contexts gives me anxiety. Hello shortness of breath, queasiness, restlessness, and moodiness… (I haven’t missed you, by the way).

I have gone through a bit of tragedy/trauma in my life. I’ve had to deal with difficult things. Up until now, they have all been on a personal scale. Private losses and such. I have never been this close to any sort of larger-scale incident, the sort of thing that affects a lot of people. In addition, I have never been this close to such violence. I don’t know if I have the tools to even process what is happening.

We’ll come back to the word “strange” now. I feel strange. The truth is, after this is over and the city starts to go back to normal, I really doubt my life will change much. I didn’t know anyone who was directly affected by the explosions, or any of the aftermath. My own loved ones are safe and, well, you’ve probably read a whole bunch of accounts of how Boston will come through with barely a scratch. Yet the whole thing is just horrible, and I’ve felt like crying all day. I call do-over on this week, because it didn’t happen right the first time.

Some people can be productive when they find themselves with time on their hands all of a sudden. I have not managed to do so. I’ve thought about all the things I could do today–write, read, organize my room, some other creative project–but the only thing I’ve actually done, for most of the day, is huddle under my comforter and watch Netflix. I did manage to do some cooking, too, but that didn’t take nearly long enough.

I think what I want to do is go to sleep and wake up when all the crazy is over. I don’t want to deal with the crazy. It’s one thing when terrible things are happening and you can go about your life; it’s another when they cause you to have to stay in your house. If I still had imaginary friends I could have them all over for a party right now. I wish.


**Edit: Just after posting this I saw the notice that the lockdown has been lifted and the MBTA is now running. This, to me, says that they’re making some progress, and it’s slightly safer to go outside, so it does help with the anxiety a little. I am not going to change anything in the post, though, because it is an account of my attempt at a thought process over the course of the day.

Are Dreams Real?

If you’re half awake while dreaming, and aware that you’re lying in bed, a dream can feel more like a memory. Sometimes it’s very obvious, once you fully wake up. But what if your dream only involved people and/or animals who are really in your life, and only mundane events that might really happen? You could ask the other people if they remember it, but even if they say no, it could have just been a moment that didn’t make it to their long-term memory. And you would never know…


Is it made real just by dreaming it? If perception is everything (or, a large part of things), and you perceive a dream as real–

Hearts of Boston

This is the thing to focus on with everything that’s happened. Bostonians and others band together to help each other through the tragedy that occurred this past Monday. I still love Boston as much as I ever did and I don’t feel unsafe here, because we’re all taking care of each other. It’s all still pretty surreal for me. I think I might go down to the area this weekend, just to see it… pointless, probably, but I will anyway.

Serious Monday Madness: Explosions at the Boston Marathon Finish Line

If you have not yet seen, there are very bad, unfortunate things happening in Boston today. I wrote a post about it on my other blog. Have a look for some quick info or search the internet to see if there is any new information found out.


Serious Monday Madness: Explosions at the Boston Marathon Finish Line.

SCOTUS Slowly Killing the Struggling American Author?

No one’s really helping us writers out. We’ll have to help ourselves somehow… As someone who hopes to make a living from writing someday (far, far in the future, probably), I do not like this news.


Below are some excerpts from an article I came across this week called “The Slow Death of the American Author.”  I thought it was fitting because it’s about the impact of a recent Supreme Court decision on struggling writers.  Legal stuff and writing stuff, that’s nice.  Anyway, what I got from the opinion piece was that the  decision hurts the poor and helps the rich.  Surprise, surprise.  Enjoy:

LAST month, the Supreme Court decided to allow the importation and resale of foreign editions of American works, which are often cheaper than domestic editions. Until now, courts have forbidden such activity as a violation of copyright. Not only does this ruling open the gates to a surge in cheap imports, but since they will be sold in a secondary market, authors won’t get royalties.       

This may sound like a minor problem; authors already contend with an enormous domestic market for secondhand books. But it is…

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National Grilled Cheese Poetry Month

It’s National Poetry Month! Write a poem! It’s also National Grilled Cheese Month. (and I guess today is grilled cheese DAY. But really, whichever day you eat it is grilled cheese day.) I think the conclusion we are supposed to make here is that grilled cheese is poetry. (Because it would be weird to say that poems are grilled cheese.) I feel like it’s my responsibility to eat a grilled cheese sandwich at some point this month.

I figured I would try to write at least one poem this month, even though I’m not really that into writing poems. I guess some people might define the flash pieces as prose poetry, but that’s not how I think of them. And that’s what matters.

So right now I’m going to write a poem about grilled cheese. You’re welcome.



can go on your grilled cheese.

There are rules, of course

Bread. Cheese. Grill.

But after that your sandwich will go wherever

your imagination takes it.

I like apple and brie, personally

Can it still count as grilled cheese

if it’s made on a panini press?

I think so.

It’s my sandwich, not yours

so I’ll call it whatever I want.


The last time I tried

to make grilled cheese,

I burned it.

And the bread didn’t line up right.

It wasn’t really very good.

And I wondered,

what’s so great about grilled cheese anyway?

But sometimes that’s just how it happens.

It can be something of a “task”

to get it right.

Isn’t it worth it, though?

The melty in your mouth, buttery

(maybe bacony)


The crunch and the warmth.

Eat slowly. I always find

that my food is gone and

I’ve barely had a chance

to taste it.