Tag Archives: writing

On Blogging

29 Apr

Blogging has been an unexpected journey for me. It started as an extension to the journals I began at age 12 that lasted until about 23, filling five books:




The quote on the cover that says, “Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale” is ironic, really, because from page one the reader can sense the true awkwardness of a chubby, shy, hopeful romantic (even at age 12) who experiences the absolute opposite of anything resembling a fairytale.

The topics within the second half of that top journal alone talk about my friends and I at 15-years-old facing being dumped, eating disorders, rape, my dream date for a dance who broke me into pieces by choosing to go with a girl he said was prettier, drinking, a stomach being pumped, a stabbing, depression and death.

My romantic awkwardness and my tendency to over-think everything continues throughout the five journals and despite every moment that would make most readers cringe as I embarrass myself on the regular, the entire thing is woven together with a sense of “gratefulness, hope and humor” that I had and continue to carry with me as I go.

I stopped writing things down for a few years and when I picked it up again, I chose to blog and decided that no matter what depressing thing happened in the world or in my personal experience, I was going to write for myself and shed a humorous light on life. I was tired of reading and watching awful things, you know? I didn’t expect, or necessarily even want others to read it. I’m grateful that people do read and comment, but I still don’t expect it. I simply wanted to creatively journal for myself and had no idea there was going to be a community aspect.

My stats, number of followers and being Freshly Pressed meant and still mean very little to me.

With that said, I was delighted to meet people, be real and learn that I can make others laugh. I think the community has introduced us all to others who inspire us and/or have somehow changed our lives. Writers can easily connect with each other here–we all know about an artist’s deeper layers that exist within each one of us. It gives us an immediate connection and for some, a way to throw around ideas. Through this I’ve also met some friends I’d like to keep for a lifetime, had conversations with people from all over the world and even had a very odd fan fiction story written about me. I wonder whatever happened to that guy.

Perhaps the real bonus for this little lady has been the dick pictures from past commenters, even though I continually announced that I would laugh at every penis entering my inbox (and I did… that pun was not intended, by the way).

Little did those dudes know about the coffee table book I’ll publish someday called, “Is This Your Dick?” that will highlight all the ding dongs.

So, that’s what makes my blogging experience go ’round.

Why do you blog?

NeverEnding Imaginations

20 Nov

I love reading creative posts and catching a glimpse of what’s inside the imaginations of other bloggers. My imagination gets wild and crazy and I can think of a few childhood experiences that certainly played a major role in that development.

One example is my love for the 1984 film The NeverEnding Story.

Cue majestic music, bitches:


When I was a kid, I made my parents rent that movie every weekend for approximately two years. Something about it truly grabbed my imagination and expanded La La Land into a vast empire where I am still a beautiful empress with a British accent. I also blame it for giving me imaginary friends (a mermaid and a turtle) that lived in the sewer.*

At night I made up related stories while curled up on the floor in my Care Bears sleeping bag. In my head, I WAS The Childlike Empress and I lived in an ivory tower made of glorious light. I imagined (still imagine, just kidding, kind of) someday walking down the aisle wearing her headpiece:

But with real pearls. Image from Etsy.

Except back then I was jonesin’ for some Atreyu:

Atreyu sporting the Auryn. Image from Google.

Is there something from your childhood that you associate with the development of your imagination? Do you still make up stories in your head as you fall asleep? Have you ever put someone’s baby on a dog and pretended he was riding Falcor? No? Oh. I guess I haven’t either, then. That would be a weird thing to do.

Also, this is the song from the movie. Look at this guy. Just look at him…and there upon a rainbow is the answer to a never-ending story.



* My imaginary friends and I are no longer in contact.

Dennis, a Dick Bee and the Day I Lost My Internet Anonymity

18 Jul

Well, there has been a change of plan regarding the penis story. Here’s why:

My best friend (my dad, aka ‘Dennis the menacing menace’) came over yesterday to teach me to use an edger because I got lazy and didn’t cut my grass for 3 weeks, thus resulting in the lush jungle that greeted me on Monday afternoon. I knew my old timey mower wasn’t going to do the trick.

As he was showing off his mad edging skills, a spricket sprang toward me, causing me to run around squeal-screaming like a small child. My dad laughed and then, just to add insult to injury, a dick bee flew up and stung my knee.


Me (yelling): What the fuck, you dick bee!

Dad (laughing): You should blog about this.

Me: What?

Dad: Tales of a Charm City Chick, right?

Me: Um, what? Did you read it? This is like when mom read my diary when I was 14 except this diary doesn’t have a lock or a unicorn on the cover! I’ll never be able to write as myself again because this will be in the back of my mind. Thanks, Dad, you’ve ruined everything!

Dad: Why don’t you want me to read it?

Me: I talk about things that would embarrass me if you saw them! How did you find out?

Dad: Someone who likes it told me about it and don’t worry, I didn’t tell your mother.


Dad: La, has a great writer ever stopped writing because he was nervous about what his dad or mom thought?

Me: Maybe!!!!!

Dad: Okay…well, pretend I didn’t say anything. Also, please blog about how you’re a 27-year old woman who runs around screaming about bugs while your 7-year old niece embraces them. She thinks it’s funny, too.

Me: Well then, I’m glad you and little miss St. Francis of Assisi can laugh whilst I suffer.


So, my friends, we meet on this day at the crossroads (the group Bone Thugs-N-Harmony is nowhere in sight…how disappointing).

What would you do if you were in my position? Pretend for a moment that you occasionally mention penes and sex (Dad, chill, I’m not losing my virginity until I’m 33, just as we agreed) in your blog/diary that strangers read at their leisure, and yesterday you learned that your dad or mom or boss reads it. Could you keep writing that way? Would you feel hindered? Would your writing change and maybe become less fun for you? Please discuss.

Another conversation with my boss

10 May

You may have previously read about how weird my 57-year-old boss is. He called me at 10:40 t0night:


Boss: Hey, L-Jazz, how are ya?

Me: What happened to L-Train?

Boss: I can try new names, I’m your boss. How are ya?

Me: Well, I’m working on it.

Boss: Well, I didn’t really have a direction for this conversation. James Spader? Does he help?

Me: No, he doesn’t help with death. I’m sorry I looked up James Spader at work, it’s just that–

Boss: No, L-Train, I get it. I look up that girl from that British show, I think it’s called Torchwood.

Me: Never seen it.

Boss:  Are you drinking?

Me: Yes. Well, thanks for calling.

Boss: Good talk. Maybe we can skip work and get beers next week? You haven’t laughed in awhile.

Me: Beer would help.

Boss: Great, we can get the whole lab to go. See you next week. Now would be a good time to try writing that erotica like I told you. Sex sells.

Me: Dude, Dave, that’s still weird. Bye now.

Boss: Bye!

Where do you want to be right now?

30 Apr

I am taking off this week due to an arm/elbow issue (nerve entrapment) that seems to get very angry at me when I work/write and spend too much time on WordPress. This puts a damper on my spirits because, well, one is my job and the other is what I do when I take frequent breaks from my job. Also, I was in an effing car accident last night and I have a sore throat. If anyone knows how to exorcise the crappy luck demons, that would be fabulous.


Maybe I just need to get away.


If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be and why? I know where I would be (and where I will escape to in my imagination all day):


Bora Bora, bitches.

On writing.

4 Apr

Whether or not I ask for it, my 57-year-old scientist boss likes to give me advice. Here is a conversation we had about writing.

Boss: So, you want to be a writer?

Me: Yep.

Boss: You know what you have to do now, right?

Me: Write?

Boss: You have to write erotica.

Me: I was thinking about going with humor, like funny short stories or something.

Boss: Make them sexy short stories. Sex sells.

Me: You’re a scientist, what do you know?

Boss: I wrote two erotic novels–introduce the virgin, virgin meets the guy, deflowering of the virgin, virgin faces crossroads and so on.

Me: What was your nom de plume, then?

Boss: I didn’t have one. I sold them to a publishing company.

Me: Right.

Boss: I can give you the guidelines, you have to use certain words for body parts and stuff.

Me: Gross, no thanks, I think your sexy story advice would give me writer’s block for an eternity.

Boss: All a part of my plan to keep you here, editing my boring scientific papers.

Me: Get out.


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