Monthly Archives: February 2013

Mortification Monday

More proof of my middle school dorkiness.



You can stop laughing now.

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Rejection Playlist Volume 2, Track 2 (B) “Jumper”

To keep up with the ’90’s theme, I thought I’d throw a Third Eye Blind song into the Rejection playlist. In fact, this might turn into an all ’90’s themed Rejection Playlist, because you know, the mid-9o’s was full of “great” music. I kind of miss it and the awesomely bad videos.

And well he’s on the table,
And he’s gone to code,
And I do not think anyone knows,
What they are doing here,

And your friends have left you,
You’ve been dismissed.
I never thought it would come to this,
And I, I want you to know

Everyone’s got to face down the demons,
Maybe today,
We can put the past away,

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Bad Poetry Friday

He Said c 1994


He said he’d call me

but he never did

He said hello

but never meant a word

He said forever

but I guess he had other things on his mind

He said he loved me

but I guess he lied

He said he missed me

but didn’t shed a tear

He said he’d help me

but ignored my fears

His words were all lies

Then he said, “goodbye.”



God this guy (whomever this 7th grader this poem is about) was an asshole.


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Mortification Monday

Today’s Mortification Monday reveals several nerdy things about me, including vacation  church school and the fact I played clarinet. There’s also details about a crush, and some rather judgmental thoughts about smokers. But at least there’s no nose picking.


Mortification Monday July 31 1994




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Rejection Playlist Volume 2, Track 2 (A) “Tubthumping”

I’d like to thank Emma Donoghue, author of Room, for reminding me of this gem of a song. Like many 90’s one-hit-wonders I forgot that it existed. It’s a pretty good song for life and being tenacious and resilient and all that bullshit if we’re talking about theme here. Of course, Chumbawamba’s hit was really about getting wasted, but let’s pretend it applies to writers and rejection, shall we?

I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down

But we all know what sometimes happens when you’ve been rejected by one two many jobs/lovers/agents:

Pissing the night away
Pissing the night away
He drinks a whiskey drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times

Are you tubthumping yet?

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Bad Poetry Friday

I’m Sorry c. 1994

You said you love me,

I didn’t care

I saw you watching me

I didn’t stare

You sent me roses

I sent them back

You tried to help me

I turned my back

You didn’t get the picture

that we’d never be

I loved someone else

and he loved me



It’s no Anne Sexton, but it isn’t bad. It’s better than last week’s at least.

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VALENTINE excerpt and backstory

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d share an excerpt from my (unpublished) novel VALENTINE, a YA contemporary that’s pretty much 500 Days of Summer meets Law and Order.

The pitch:

How much of what you remember is true? This is the question eighteen-year old Claire asks herself while on the witness stand for the attempted murder she witnessed last Valentine’s Day.  It is told in a non-linear timeline covering a year and a half of the lives of Claire, Steven, and Mike, three teens whose lives change after the Valentine’s Day shooting.  At time of the shooting Claire has been dating Steven for years, but she soon falls for Mike, the victim of the attempted murder and road rage incident; however, Mike is hiding the truth about what really happened last night. Claire’s witness testimony at the trial will soon put all three of their lives in danger when someone from Mike’s past is out to kill Claire for what she reveals. Someone will end up in the hospital, someone will end up in jail, and someone will end up dead. True love might conquer all but is it enough to save a life?

VALENTINE is inspired by an attempted murder I witnessed 15 years ago, when I was 17. Like Claire, I was on my way home from a date with my boyfriend (not named Steven. That boyfriend was no where as sweet and cute as Steven) on Valentine’s Day, driving my mom’s mini van, when I stumbled on a road rage incident that quickly escalated into an attempted murder right in front of me. Like Claire, it freaked the hell our of me and messed me up a little, though I didn’t start lying to my parents, try and fail out of school, and fall in love with the victim- a high school dropout. No. Instead I stayed with my not-so-great boyfriend until he dumped me and I stopped eating, but that’s another novel.

I’ll try and scare up the articles from that night and post them later. I actually grew up with the kids involved, and at one point had been childhood friends with the victim.

Even if VALENTINE never sees the light of day, writing it allowed me to work out a lot of shit I still hung onto twelve years later. Below is a 500 word excerpt from the last draft of VALENTINE. One day I may rework the entire thing and see if it has wings. In the meantime, enjoy:


“I told you I don’t want to talk to him about it,” Claire hissed to her mother. A cop settled himself on the worn couch in the living room. He looked out of place in his stiff uniform and holding a Dunkin Donuts cup. Mom never let crappy coffee in the house.

“You have to give a statement.” She nudged her daughter into the room. “Just tell them what you told me this morning.”

“I don’t want to,” Claire said, tears welling in her eyes. “Can’t you just do it?”

“No, Honey. I wasn’t a witness. You can do it. You’ve always been so strong.”

She wasn’t feeling strong. She felt like shit. She was tired and scared and her brain was still foggy from the Valium mom had given her last night to help calm her down.

She took a seat across from the cop. “Where are the officers from last night?” She wasn’t fully awake yet even though it was early afternoon, so she took another sip of her milky Earl Grey tea. She’d been carrying it around with her for the last half hour and it had long since grown cold. At least it was still strong. “I’m sorry I can’t remember your name, Officer.”

“Detective,” he corrected. The detective looked at her like she was trying to be difficult, which she wasn’t. Claire really couldn’t remember his name. “Detective Ryan Simmons.”

“My bad,” Claire mumbled into her mug. She drank the last sip and set the cup on the oak coffee table in front of her chair. “No offense, Detective, but I’d rather talk to Officer Straub.” Officer Straub had been so kind last night. She reminded Claire of the librarian at her old elementary school. This guy just seemed like a douchebag.

Detective Simmons sighed. “She was unavailable today and I’m one of the detectives assigned to the case. I need your official statement. It’s best if you give it to me now while it’s still fresh in your mind. We don’t want you to forget anything.” He gave her a short smile. Yep, douchebag.

How could she ever forget what happened last night? It was impossible not to think about it. Hell, every time she closed her eyes she saw the gun. The face of the man who had pointed it at her. The bloody body on the pavement. The problem was she couldn’t put that shit into words.  It was too horrible to say.

Detective Simmons waited with his pen raised. Her mother nodded encouragingly.

She scowled at them. “It’s hard to explain,” she started. She closed her eyes and swallowed. It was slightly easier if she didn’t have to look at the Detective right now. She could pretend she was just talking to Steven or Tiffani; anybody other than this cop who was treating her like she was the one who gunned down a kid in the street last night. “I’ve never seen anything so terrible in my life.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

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Mortification Monday (now in video)

As if sharing my middle school traumas with you wasn’t enough, I’ve decided to go viral. Of course the post is quite possibly THE MOST MORTIFYING thing to happen to me at 13.



Tuesday, June 28th, 1994

Dear Diary,

Have you ever felt so embarrassed that you want to just die? I finally felt it. Today in summer school during P.E. I guess I was picking my nose and these girls I don’t like saw it and started spreading rumors about me, like I pick my nose and eat it. I told my friends I was scratching my nose and that those girls were trying to make me feel bad. I don’t care if they tell the whole world. It doesn’t bother me. Hopefully they will forget about it.



Wednesday, June 29th

I was wrong. It bothers me. And they haven’t forgotten about it. Plus they are a pain in the butt.


Please tell me that I wasn’t the only 13 year old to pick their nose.

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Rejection Playlist Volume 2, Track 1 “Another One Bites the Dust

Back in college/ grad school I would blast Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” after every job rejection or breakup and throw myself a dance party. Freddie Mercury always made me feel better. It’s the quintessential rejection song, don’t you think?

Another one bites the dust
There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man
And bring him to the ground
You can beat him
You can cheat him
You can treat him bad and leave him
When he’s down
But I’m ready, yes I’m ready for you
I’m standing on my own two feet


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Bad Poetry Friday

c. Summer 1994


Yesterday I saw you in a different light

with a smile on your lips and kindness in your eyes

I never knew you were this way

For this reason I think I’ll stay another day

I can trust in you if you can trust in me

We’re made for each other. Can’t you see?

If I go, you’re left behind

with sadness being built inside

If you go, I’d just lie here and die

or just break down and cry

We’re in need of each other

And I wish we’d stay together

because you mean everything to me




I’m laughing so hard, I’m crying. This is one of the worst poems ever.

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