Our Memories Become Theirs

Kids rain puddle stomp_hip

At the beginning of my parenting experience, I said “no” often. The noise and the mess was a lot to handle. Not to mention the plain issue of just keeping track of where all the little live bodies were in space and time. And what they were planning to put in their mouth at that…

Without Remembering

Creating is not remembering… It is to look and to hear and to write — without remembering. It is the immediate feelings arranged in words as they occur to me.” — Gertrude Stein We are all in our ruts, our patterns, our habits. It’s a relief, I suppose, to discover they are all ours, to…

Ordinary Rockstar (Scintilla Redux)

Today’s Scintilla prompt… Talk about a time when you were driving and you sang in the car, all alone. Why do you remember this song and that stretch of road? sent me back immediately to a moment in time, October 2010. I was in the middle of two major and  intersecting life renovations. Both of…

How I Made Friends in London (Without Really Knowing How I Did It)

Moving to England? Concerned about being lonely and ostracized due to your homeland’s generalized ignorance, poor eating habits, and moronically Machiavellian leadership? DON’T WORRY! It’s simple! Just follow these easy, tried-and-true steps! Study important films from your host country to create an understanding of what ALL the people in that country will be like before you go.…

Scintilla13: I’m Not as Think as…

Priests have drank wine in front of me since I was a baby. When I needed a tooth pulled, dad numbed my gums with whiskey. My dad taught me how to refresh his 7&7 when I was not much older than seven. This was during my parents wild “card” parties where couples came over and…

The Night Before Scintilla

I admit it: when it comes to Twitter writing projects, I am such a sucker. Well, that assumes of course that getting myself tangled up with an online community of like-minded thinkers and writers (99 percent of whom I have never met!) makes me a sucker. Yes, please. I’ll take another lick of that. So…

I Submit to You This Broken Heart

I submit to you this broken heart. A year ago, I (unintentionally!) kicked a little snowball down a snowy hill, and I discovered how cold and mean life can be. I am awfully terrible at telling personal stories, and since this story has intertwined a few other hearts of people I love, I am not…

On Going Mental

Yesterday one of my oldest friends called me… from the “inside.” Well, to put it more clearly, she called from an inpatient psych ward. My friend and I have known each other now as long as we have not known each other… longer actually. And since she met her husband about 3 weeks after I…