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Showing posts from May, 2013

Entitled? You bet.

Like most people I think I work harder then I actually do.
I’m a single mom; a PhD student; a writer; a tutor and an Assistant Professor. I am trying to build a community of writers and to bridge relationships between the campus on which I live and study and the community that surrounds it. I am also, in my spare time, hosting a radio segment featuring writers reading their works and interviews of published writers.
At times I feel that all I do entitles me to well, to feel entitled. Not entitled to the things I don’t deserve like special parking, green-light passes, or advanced Black Friday deal information; but to rewards, perks, a sleek, shiny black coffee machine that looks good making a cup of coffee: a sexy coffee machine.
I ordered a sexy one but got a plastic, clumpy one; one that says: “you don’t work nearly as hard as you think you do.”
I disagreed.
There are people who deserve respect, health care, free education, peace, serenity, thank yous, free homes, job security and every…

Snippets from a scene (Fiction from my Attic) Or, My get-a-story-about-a-writer out of my system attempt

He slipped in to the elevator behind me, fairly innocently but a bit too closely, a bit too familiar. There was something intimate about the way he looked at me, as if he thought I should recognize him.  For a minute I thought I did but I shook it off, I would have remembered him he was that fine.  Out of, I don’t know what, I couldn’t meet his eyes, I wanted to, felt drawn to, but just could not do it.  So I stared at my toes, wondering when I would feel like painting them. Slowly the elevator crept up to the 23rd floor.  When did I notice he hadn’t pushed a button? Probably around 21.  But my office was on sort of a community floor, the price I paid for wanting an office outside of the house before I really needed one.  I was a writer, a freelance one, and I could write any where I wanted so why I chose to do it from time to time in an office I paid too much for was no one’s business but mine.  Anyway, I felt like he was weighing me and I was a few pounds shy of what he bargained…