write tiffany write. the internet has killed me. held me hostage, then shot me dead. i fantasize and obsess about a story that needs to be written, day in and day out. frantic about the first sentence, hungry for the first lines, i've begun and ended a thousand times. today (like now, before i leave [...]
bruise-purple elephants
"you are killing me, softly," i wrote, but blogged, instead of said... silence is golden, and black, patterned in bruise-purple elephants, unspoken, large and small (issues) alike, bearing down heavy, stretching the fabric of our lives in unimaginable and irretrievable fashions... relationships take work. and time. and decisions. split second and yearlong and ever-after kinds...the [...]
third tongue
the blur in this photo is emblematic of my status as girlfriend right now. and i'm sure this blog is some brand of confessional. i've become a professor since i wrote here last. twice a week i teach adult kids how to write and speak better english. many of them are native spanish speakers. through [...]
doesn’t matter which
the other day my father called and i didn't answer. couldn't. didn't. doesn't matter which. that's how it goes sometimes. i like to call him when i can talk. when i have time, when i feel conversant. all these things on my terms that i will regret when it's no longer an option to speak [...]
and maybe, to tale
as of this week, i've been out of grad school for 2 years and 3 months. i've been working professionally as an editor (and sometimes copy writer, ad writer, brand strategist, researcher, etc. ) for more years than i can easily say. (summing up all paid writing/editing experiences--particularly the 7 years of early motherhood spent [...]
stab at fiction with self-righteous death/end
cousins run into each other at a family picnic; it's been a long time since they've seen each other face to face. friends on facebook, the two greet each other and the younger woman immediately recalls with fondness the years of sleepovers in their youth, combing and braiding each other's hair, late night jaunts in [...]
random, ambdom
how many women before me have swallowed...the pill? today was cool, and i heart amber rose.
in essence…an introduction to my abnormality of an extended family
there is so much work (left) for the living to do. maybe george's death will reinvigorate my latent fascination with life, death, and the purpose and effects of each. and well. there is an awful lot of writing to be done, and painting, and grieving, and laughing, and crying, and fucking (and being fucked), and [...]
moving on… life just keeps on…
Nonfiction Woman 