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No Longer Homeless, Yet Still in Limbo...

My gosh…I have wanted to write forever now, but didn’t know what I wanted to say.

As I lie in my bed tonight, the cool, rainy night air caressing my face through the open window, I suddenly knew…I knew how to say what I have been feeling. 738 more words

Life

Ask Morgana 041

Thank you and Season’s Greetings to all my followers and correspondents. Thank you for your presence. I am going to take a little break, but I will be back here shortly after New Year’s Day. 8 more words

Writing

Thesis update

I am delighted to have finally finished the full draft of my thesis in November. My last chapter on Titus Andronicus, self-organisation and ecocriticism is now drafted and with my supervisor (slight gulp). 90 more words

Thesis

Christmas Wishlist

Every year, I struggle to make a Christmas list (and yes, I know, first world problems). I don’t care for hair appliances or expensive makeup packages or new clothes. 304 more words

Writing

The Benefits of Creative Limitations

I never had writer’s block when I was in college. Assignments had a way of getting my imagination going. The more constraints professors put on my papers the more coherent they became. 907 more words

Blog

Poem: Non-fiction

I stopped mid-conversation and jumped over a chair to say I liked your shirt Calvin wearing a big scarf and Hobbes flying a TARDIS sled past Dalek snowmen     I didn’t care that the blue purple and orange screen print didn’t match the green cotton they’re my nightmare antidotes     after being Aaron and Coach Carr in Mean Girls we watched Bridge to Terabithia on my bed and pulled our sweaters over our heads because we knew what was going to happen when he went to the art museum and we still cried even though we’d both seen it before and read the book in middle school     after a meeting we went to the library and I pretended I was reading Orlando while you scrolled through Tumblr and we laughed too loudly at dubbed cats     we had fake hot chocolate at Tea Garden and snapchatted pictures of fruit to your friends who kept saying date date date and imagined what it’s like to be famous     we watched The Perks of Being a Wallflower on my bed and giggled when Sam had an English accent and exhaled breaths we didn’t know we’d been holding because even though I’d seen the movie and read the book sixteen times combined this was new to you     then it was one-thirty and you were tired from tears and I said you could stay     we kissed nothing more and when I had a bad dream and you were still there snoring a little bit I smiled     we bussed to the art crawl and almost walked into someone’s apartment thinking it was a gallery and talked to a grandmother who mixes glass beads into paint so her art looks like it’s glittering     we decided to make ourselves official so we added it to our timelines and watched the reviews stream in while we sat in the park next to F Scott Fitzgerald and the birds that kept flying up and around and back down and reminded us of Alfred Hitchcock and our years in school marching bands playing music from Psycho and Batman     both our moms saw it and texted us asked if we were joking and we sighed raised eyebrows at each other and replied we weren’t     we ate a rushed dinner over cafe plastic flowers so we could make it to The Cradle Will Rock on time and we laughed when the boy who says sir and ma’am offstage motorboated the air because his script said to     Pokémon battles over wifi five of us sitting on the floor and couches and naming our catches until batteries died and we all told stories and when the conversation turned to exes you tugged my sleeve and we left and you said you didn’t want to talk about it     Tumblr on my couch Photoshop edits and lipsyncs and cartoon gifs and you tickled me until I fell off and on the wood floor it was loud but it didn’t hurt and my housemate called us gross with a smile     I started crying in my sleep blood stirring in calloused memory and you pulled me against your chest and told me it was just a dream this time     first snow southerner you claimed you’d be Buddy the Elf with snowballs and we left our backpacks in the field so we could run faster and gathered ammo and threw and dodged and pretended we were accidentally in each other’s line of fire     writing your nanowrimo my comic book you so silent you started to cry said your first your friend your morethanfriend your trauma your blisters too raw too real you can’t do this anymore you said need to be friends best friends pinky promise I love you but I can’t that way I need time for the calluses to form     and mine was so close to yours but it’d had time to become more story than memory and I nodded and pretended I was staying calm     one day it’ll be a story a ten week tale but once upon a time it was real.

Fall 2014

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