Colorado

Why I’m No Longer Mad at Boulder, Colorado

October 7, 2020November 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

You can't go home again. That's what they say. Which is weird, because the truth is that you never really leave. Regardless of how many years or miles pass by, there's always a part of you trapped in that place. A splinter of home is forever lodged in your psyche.Home is a complicated thing. It isn't just a place. I'm not talking about those corny plaques that everyone's grandma has hanging in their kitchen that says something like, "Home isn't a place, it's a feeling." Or even worse, "Home is where the heart is." That's all too simple and trite. Especially if you've had many homes.One of those places wasn't my home at all. I never lived in Boulder, Colorado. And yet, I've long had a thorny relationship with the place.Curled up on the floor of my cramped bedroom in a little trailer park in Indiana, I drew one enormous picture after another of mountain scenes with my fat Crayola...

Resurrection Through Fiction

February 3, 2020November 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

Somewhere in northern Colorado there's a dingy gray duplex sitting on a cul-de-sac near the railroad tracks. Behind it is a dry, yellow field where grasshoppers and mice keep busy.One half of the duplex is occupied by my mother and a version of me at 16 years old. The other half is occupied by another single mother and her 16-year-old son, Shawn.My friend Shawn.We call one another "Neighbor Boy" and "Neighbor Girl."We call the duplex "Our House."There are shenanigans. There's trouble and fun. But life is always fucking with things, flipping them upside down, changing them into something new and almost unrecognizable.People drift apart. They move away, have adventures and things happen to them.By the time we turn 19, Shawn is a quadriplegic due to a car accident and I'm in Florida, acquainting myself with the redneck bar scene.I soon flee back to Colorado, and from time to time, I run into my old friend at a party, a mutual...

An Expat Interview and a Mini-Rant About Ghosting People

October 16, 2019November 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

When you have a blog, you throw your website address up in all kinds of dark corners of the internet. When you're an expat with a blog, you register your blog site with various expat sites. It's just a thing you do. Late last year, the content editor from one of those sites contacted me out of the blue asking me to contribute to their series of expat interviews. In essence, she'd send me a questionnaire and I'd take time off from banging around in my own wordsmithy to write her something for free in addition to sending some of my photos so as to provide content for her website.Truthfully, I don't mind doing things like this. I like doing things like this. However, Content Editor ghosted after I'd sent her the completed interview. That seemed pretty rude, but I prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt. People lose track of things, they get overwhelmed with life, or...

These Days, I’m Totally Cool With Being a Goat-Eating White Trash Princess Barbie

March 12, 2018November 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

If I were ranking each decade of my life, my 40s would have the top score. It's a comfortable place of knowing myself better than ever before, and full-blown adulthood is an achievement that brings rewards previously unimagined. It's a strange time of contradictions where I give fewer shits, but care more deeply. I still feel outrage and anger, but find that it isn't channeled the same way, and is focused on different targets. I'm wiser, but am still learning and pay attention to the lessons with greater awareness. I'm better equipped to know which battles to fight, and which to let go. And why.In 2003, the couple living next door began calling me "Barbie" soon after we met. I'm like a Barbie doll, they say. I shake my head, and tell them they're wrong. I love hanging out with these two women. We open the doors of our apartments and sit on the steps, the three of us drinking...

Lessons From a Dollhouse: Longing For a Smaller Life

April 12, 2016November 30, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

My grandfather gave me the dollhouse right about the time my brain began to form lasting memories. He'd built the entire thing himself, with his own two hands. My mother, the oldest of four children, was the first to give her parents a grandchild, so I was a big deal. My grandparents spoiled me in the usual ways, but the dollhouse held the most meaning. Within each piece of tiny furniture there existed a universe of adoration. Every small human figure and carefully cut piece of fabric, another echo of love from my grandfather to me.A few years later, my mother and I moved halfway across the country. I could only take with me a few things that would fit in the car. The dollhouse, with most of our other possessions, remained in my grandparents' garage."We'll come back for that stuff later," my mother said. "We'll rent a U-haul and move it all into our new house when we find...

London, Paris, New York… and Longmont

June 23, 2015December 1, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

It all started with laughter and a longing to be somewhere else.I don't miss my hometown. I moved out of Longmont, Colorado in 1994, and never wanted to move back. For me, crossing that town line is like stepping into a dark parallel universe of bad memories. It's a time machine that only goes back to traumatic events; to people who only knew me as the juvenile delinquent offspring of a narcissistic, alcoholic mother. People who said I'd end up as nothing, popping out kids, smoking crack and ending up dead in a ditch. It's the town where a loser who nearly killed me is still frequently seen walking around on the street.I still have some very awesome friends living in Longmont, and while I almost envy their loving view of the place, I simply do not share it.My home life was not as bad or as good as it could have been, but it was difficult. It had a...