9/12/2007
On the rooftop
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All I remember is the sentence ended, “at least that’s what I like to tell myself.” Something about not being sad because we’ll be older and wiser and more prepared than we would have been had we found our other halves sooner.
But still the message from one of those others, an other who might have been, confirms those thoughts. I’m not the only one who thinks it. Continue reading
Who am I?
Don’t we all ask ourselves that from time to time?
Some of us are luckier than others. We know our purpose; we know why we were put here and what our cells are made of. At our hearts, even when shaken and broken down, we know we can return to ourselves and find some strength within. In those times, we’re in search of bedrock. A foundation for something pure, secure and steady. Continue reading
In honor of Memorial Day . . .
Suicide, murder, abortion. Psychotic episodes, rape and incest. You name it, it’s probably happened within my family. Divorce? Alcoholism? So tame. The sh*t I heard whispered low on the phone after relatives thought I was asleep as little girl, or the shit my Mom has told me when she was angry (which is almost all the time) . . . that shit would make your head spin if you were anyone but me. I keep forgetting this shit isn’t “normal,” – that I have to explain it to people who didn’t grow up like this. Continue reading
The Luck of the Fortune Teller
St. Paddy's Day 2007, NYC
On St. Patrick’s Day, I was wandering around with a friend of mine, dipping my face in random pints of beer at whatever bar we could squeeze ourselves into. They say it’s a holiday for amateurs, I say screw them. I’m from Boston (located in the state that the most Irish people call home, second in Irish population only to Ireland itself) and was raised by (random fact number one:) an Irish-American woman for 2/3 of my life.
My grandmother decorated our house for St. Patrick’s Day like it was Christmas. The name of our church was St. Patrick’s. My grandparents helped build it with their financial contributions. I may not go to church anymore, but I still worship at the bar on St. Paddy’s. Continue reading
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