Tags » Non-fiction Writing

". . . avoid the needless straitjacket of academia"

Gary North has an article on his site, Specific Answers, titled “To Be a Successful Writer, Avoid Academic Writing.”  Do you hear that, Professors? 456 more words

Dr. Gary North

Interview With An Alien

I’ve been around for awhile.  I’ve gone a few places, done a few things, met a lot of people. Hundreds of 1000s over the course of my lifetime, probably.  1,417 more words

Daily Inspiration

The Incredible Lightness of Being My Brain

My brain is such a light weight. Which pisses me off. I feed it really well. Lots of books, educational programming and internet searches heavy on information, continuing ed courses, and it’s still scrawny as a tweaker. 414 more words

Why Donor Base Matters: Leeches vs. Producers

We all know that there are companies that produce things, like Apple and Google and Microsoft and GM, and there are people who work for them (represented by unions). 2,298 more words

American History And Culture

Ups and downs of my writing career....

While waiting for two magazine articles to be published, which I submitted and had accepted several months ago, I decided to spread my wings and enter some writing competitions.   320 more words

Google Search: 'I Can't Get It Up'

The following story is based on Dorothy Allison’s 1995 memoir, Two Or Three Things I Know for Sure and was for my Women’s Gender Studies course. 991 more words

Writing

Inside

Here’s a piece I wrote about a relationship. It’s one of my more personal pieces about someone I used to know.

Enjoy.

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Here there is no light other than the occasional sober moment where you have told me something nice again, something nice that sparks my hope that the you I first met months ago is reemerging, the you I fell for who wanted to take me on dates just because and to bring erasers shaped like animals to my younger sister, the you who listened to me cry over a lost wallet and would laugh and kiss me and tell me it was okay, a you who I fell in love with because you never judged me for not washing my hair for three days in a row, but that you wasn’t there anymore and in reality we are stuck in the confines of this mentally and emotionally toxic chemical reaction that the two of us were in together and because we started to unravel the moment I realized the twine in your brain had started to become tangled and you started saying things to me when you were drunk that made my insides quiver, like the time you told me you would “kill yourself” because I didn’t appear to care about how I had embarrassed you at your friends’ party when I had drank too much and decided to eat a whole bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in your car while you searched and called and called and kept hearing my voicemail but the crunch of the chips drowned out the noise of your cries for attention so there we were walking along side of the road on the way back to your house with your friends parents driving alongside us because they heard your drunken slurs as we walked from their house and under the few stars you could see that night because we live too close to the airport , you decided to tell me you were going to end your life but beforehand write a letter where you detailed that the reason was because of me and how I didn’t care enough to stop you and then I knew I was stone cold trapped in something deeper then I ever imagined, a pit of mental unrest and delusion that was fueled by alcohol and drugs and pent up anger that you had dug in a ditch at some point in your life and I had just stumbled upon its lifeless corpse-like hand and hadn’t realized I had unearthed a secret that would haunt me for the whole two years we were together and then I think back of the time we sat in your dorm room at college and stared at the white walls and your Budweiser flag was pinned a little crooked and we were waiting for pizza rolls that we had ordered and I made a joke about dropping all your folded shirts off of your bed instead of putting them into the drawers like I had promised and you turned and starred at me with these eyes, these eyes that appeared hollow and full of resentment and I could tell the hands on the clock of normal you had stopped seven green apple vodka shots ago and you snarled at me like a dog and told me you hated me and that I made you suicidal when I did things like let my hand linger a bit too long when the guy handed me a beer or that I talked a bit too much to your suitemate and it made you go to that dark place again where you talked about how your shower rod is the perfect height and I was in the confines of the white walls and there were posters on the wall of naked girls with large butts and no cellulite and I starred at them because I felt trapped there, trapped in the white walls twenty miles from my school and without a ride and trapped in a relationship where your invisible noose was around my neck, not your own and when you were sober you said all the right things and I kept telling myself that this was just a phase, that all the threats of self mutilation was a cry for help and maybe you would snap out of it, I convinced myself that next time you drank you would be more controlled and “only take two shots babe” like you always promised and I held onto the promise of how we were when we first started off and the time you told me you loved me when I sat in your car crying about how I had lost my cellphone yet again and how we would be together forever and I needed that security, you were everything my father never was or ever would be, a father who yelled threats and threatened with the belt when he was drunk but you became him the moment alcohol touched your lips , your love for me became fake, nothing more to me then the Hallmark holiday Valentine’s day really is and even when I tried to get away from you, I couldn’t stop thinking about how you sat up with me on the phone when my stomach hurt or how you cried about how much you loved me because that was true love, wasn’t it, when a boy breaks down in tears and I was alone and suddenly you were back when I was depressed about my failing friendships and crying over the boy who swept me off my feet and I had believed him because I needed so badly to replace you because I knew you were no good for me, and you kissed my forehead and walked in the rain to my apartment to let me know you still loved me and that I never deserved to be treated badly and I truly believed the words you said and so I opened myself up to you and let myself believe you had changed and kissed you goodbye at the end of the night and closed my bedroom door and trusted you had gone home and but in reality you slithered your way into my roommate’s room, who also happened to be my best friend and there you nested in her emotions and I didn’t even notice that she started letting you borrow her car more and borrow money from her and she was in love with you just like I was one time and you took advantage of someone whose brain twine was more tangled than your own with depression and anxiety and eating disorders and you gave her a high by telling her that you liked her body better than mine, that she were missing the large chunks of fat on my hips and legs and you manipulated her by telling her you loved her the way you once loved me and that I was nothing to you but a trinket in a game and used her for sex while I had wanted to hold out on you because I didn’t trust you but you didn’t kiss her goodnight like you did to me because it made you be able to convince yourself that the things you were doing were alright and when I found out about the lies and deception and those times your eyes lingered a bit too long over her breasts you drank Tennessee’s poison and you told me she never meant anything to you but you spit your own inner poisons into her thoughts and told her to do things you had wanted to do, you told her to end her life and you said it with such poise and dignity she actually considered it and even after that I somehow gave you a chance because I thought about how you can paint white walls other colors and how things change and I could paint the darkness into something light and I thought about how my bed was very empty without the imprint of your sweaty body and that you were the only person I could throw a fit in front of in order to get something as silly like an extra order of ice cream at dinner, so I accepted your invitation to come to your house over Thanksgiving break and I didn’t know you were drunk and we sat in the same room your parents decorated for you in high school with soccer balls and Chinese lanterns and I sat on your bed and watched as one of them swayed in the wind as you went to lock your door and you came to the bed and you tried to make everything between us okay through the use of physical advances and you kissed me the way you used to but this time it felt unnatural, a forced interaction between two people with different intentions, but I tired to fight you off and the feng shui of your room changed and suddenly there weren’t good words left and in the lair of the snake, I had suddenly caught myself saying things I wouldn’t say to my worst enemy but all I could think about was you having sex with my friend as I dreamt of you, and of the time you called me a slut on the Internet when you didn’t know I was on the verge of employing some of the ideas you had always spoken of in vodka induced alcoholic comas, and the walls in your room weren’t black or white they were dark green instead but with the lights dimmed and the light glow of lanterns I could tell your demeanor had changed and suddenly the empty beer cans in your trash can were visible and we started to fight like we usually did but this time your true self was showing again and I told you that no one would love you like I did and called you worthless and told you all the things I had locked up somewhere in my mind, the things that had been brewing, and people always say when you trap a wild animal it will attack and I told you that you would be a horrible father and you were a horrible lover and you tried to walk away from my painful words but I wouldn’t let you and the walls were dark again and the lights were off but I could hear the ringing of the television downstairs and the laughter of your family and you tried to leave but I stopped you, sparking a series of events that still make me quiver when I am alone, walking to my car or when a new boyfriend moves a hand too quickly and I jump, and then you ever so gently stopped me with force of your arms swooping my feet from under me and then I was on your carpet, the same shag carpet we had laid on before and gazed at the plastic glowing stars on your ceiling but this time it was different because you were dragging me across the floor with such speed and you had gained weight and you were above me and no matter how much I tried to get your grasp off of me, I kept feeling your dirty finger nails cutting into my skin and I was still moving across carpet that burned and lashed at my legs and my arms and when I went to catch your leg, the heel of your foot caught my face instead in such a casual manor that I could almost imagine it was just a dream and then the white walls turned red and it finally, finally clicked in my mind that you never meant to hurt yourself, your plan all along was to entrap me because you fed off of my love and my energy and months before you cradled me in your arms in the pool and told me you would be with me until I died and then it had happened, your pent up energy had exploded in a form of an “accidental” kick to the face and I couldn’t help but to think back on all those movies I had watched as a teenager where the boyfriends hands always lingered a bit too tightly on the girls arm, and I should have said something a long time ago but the bruises were always inside and as I ran out of the room I did not remember if your shirts were hung up in your closet or if your desk chair squeaked like it used to, I just ran.

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