Rasmenia, Author at Rasmenian detritus – Page 3 of 42

Why I Still Want to Be Wonder Woman When I Grow Up

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

Adults always ask little kids what they want to be when they grow up. When you're small, this question is exciting because it immediately propels you into imagining yourself in fantastic scenarios. I used to tell the grown ups I wanted to be a stewardess. (Don't start. It was the 70s, so we weren't saying "flight attendant.") I hadn't yet been on an airplane and imagined nothing could be more exciting than flying. Sure, traveling the world seemed okay, but the sky was the domain of super humans. People who could fly. Like Superman or Wonder Woman.And what I really wanted to be when I grew up was Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman had an invisible jet. Much cooler than handing out tiny pouches of nuts on an airplane. I only needed to twirl around like Lynda Carter, then look up at the sky. I could see myself up there, far above the Earth and all the nonsense below.Wonder Woman was...

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...

Please Don’t Sit Next to Me

July 23, 2019November 24, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

A few months ago, I was hanging alone with a sandwich while watching Atypical on Netflix. In the season 2 episode, "A Nice, Neutral Smell," the main character, Sam, who is autistic, attends his sister's track meet. Standing in the bleachers, a girl in front of him turns her head back and forth, her ponytail whipping Sam in the face. After he's smacked a few times, Sam seizes the ponytail and doesn't let go until his father intervenes.Sure, this happens because of Sam's autism. He doesn't have the same concept of social norms that neurotypicals do. The thing is, when I watched this scene, I nearly spat sandwich all over my living room because I was cheering. More than once in my life, I've wanted to do exactly what Sam did.Sitting next to strangers in public can be stressful. Some instances are mentally and emotionally taxing, detracting from the experience of whatever it is you're trying to do. Maybe it's...

I Finally Understand What Stephen King Was Saying About His Desk

June 19, 2019December 2, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

I've always had a complicated relationship with writing desks. It seems absurd to say such a thing, because a writing desk is an inanimate object and therefore indifferent, which should make having a relationship with it anything but complicated.But, for writers, or anyone who spends several hours creating at a desk every day, that relationship is important. You have to be able to live together in harmony. Perhaps it's this way with a musician and their instrument. Maybe even more so for them, as they tend to travel with the inanimate object they're having a relationship with, and I generally do not lug my desk along when I travel. Sure, I'm bogged down with pens, notebooks, and tablet, but that's another story altogether.Where I get my real writing done, my final drafts, submissions, blogging, publishing, all happens here, at my very small, very cheap, and very reliable little desk. But it wasn't always this way.My first desk was a thing...

The Inadequate Language of Expats and Immigrants

April 1, 2019November 23, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

The difference between an immigrant and an expat is significant. What makes a person one or the other is determined by their reasons for leaving their home country, and what they intend to do once they arrive in the new one. An immigrant has no plan to return home. He or she is not changing residence to achieve a career or educational goal. They're not chasing the novelty of a new experience. Integration into the new culture is necessary for survival. An expat is temporary. They travel to another country for whatever reason, and integrating into a new culture isn't as crucial, because one day, they'll go home again. If one is an expatriate, there's a suggestion of luxury and decadence.The difference is significant when we're talking about words. When we talk about the people, things are more complicated. Humans don't fit into neat little boxes and definitions. The British couple retiring to the apartment they recently purchased in Paris are expats. The...

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

December 14, 2018November 24, 2020 by Rasmenia Comment Closed

On a scorching July morning in a Colorado that existed before cell phones, streaming, and apps, my friend Michelle and I slathered oil on ourselves and sprawled out on a couple of rickety aluminum lawn chairs in my tiny, unkempt backyard. This was also a time before we became concerned about sun damage, melanoma, and our mortality.My little boombox sat in the shade on the square of concrete that was almost a patio. The spinning gears in the tape deck cranked out The Doors on cassette.Michelle picked up the bong that sat between us, took a hit, and handed it to me. She giggled and said, "Dude. Check us out. We look like a couple of greasy goons."I lifted my head and scanned my skinny white legs, shimmering with fine blond hairs and grease, like a scrawny chicken ready for the oven. The oil covered my face, my hair pulled up tight in a clumsy knot. I took the bong...