I Finally Understand What Stephen King Was Saying About His Desk

I Finally Understand What Stephen King Was Saying About His Desk

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...
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How to Find Closure When Your Bullies are Dead

How to Find Closure When Your Bullies are Dead

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
I wore the dress because it was Halloween. One day where we can dress up and pretend to be something that we're not. Something we don't get to be every day. Something more wild. Cooler. Louder.My dress had a newspaper print pattern splashed with neon pink and green. My mom wasn't crazy about it, but I loved it. It was cheap, so I was allowed to buy it when we were shopping for new clothes a couple months before. However, she hardly ever let me wear it. It was too "tacky" and too "loud." But then, Halloween approached and I had a last minute idea. I was now 12 years old and adult enough to dress my own self up for Halloween, thank you very much.I put on the dress. I slipped into my neon green jelly shoes. I sprayed red and black and glitter into my hair, which I curled and teased and sprayed and poofed. I did my...
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London, Paris, New York… and Longmont

London, Paris, New York… and Longmont

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...
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A Story About Guns

A Story About Guns

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
When I got my first and last gun, I was in the morning kindergarten class. The bus dropped me off after school and I'd watch TV in the living room while eating my lunch. Old reruns of some of the best shows were on in the afternoon: Batman. The Lone Ranger and The Adventures of Superman. I ate my sandwich with Adam West, George Reeves or Clayton Moore, then I'd run off to read my comic books, or play outside. I had no siblings, so I usually played make believe by myself. Sometimes I suited up in my Wonder Woman gear to save the world. Other times, I became Supergirl, flying around by fastening some sort of cape around my neck and hanging from my swing set. And when I had my little cap gun, I was just as brave and heroic as the Lone Ranger.In my mind, it wasn't symbolic in any way of a thing that hurt people. It...
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The Joys of Not Being a Skinny Girl

The Joys of Not Being a Skinny Girl

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
“I've got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don't want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I'd rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before 'thin'. And frankly, I'd rather they didn't give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons. Let them never be Stupid Girls.” ― J.K. Rowling“By choosing healthy over skinny you are choosing self-love over self-judgment. You are beautiful!” ― Steve Maraboli“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” ― Kate Moss *** Let me start off by saying that Kate Moss is a fucking idiot. I've been there. I've worn her size 2. I've been skinny. I've also tasted many different things & I'm here to tell you that she's flat-out WRONG. Tasting things feels good. Tasting...
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Mr. O’Donnell & the Yellow Paper

Mr. O’Donnell & the Yellow Paper

by Rasmenia Comment Closed
"What is a teacher? I'll tell you: it isn't someone who teaches something, but someone who inspires the student to give of her best in order to discover what she already knows." -Paulo Coelho"It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge." -Albert Einstein *I sat perfectly still in my seat at the back of the classroom, listening carefully as our teacher, Mr. O'Donnell, gave us our assignment: write a one-page essay explaining what you would do with only one day left to live.There, at my desk in the far back corner, next to the little sink and the pencil sharpener, in front of the poster of Prince & the Revolution, I tried to contain my giddiness. Sure, I had written boring essays for school before. I had written some stories, too... but no one had ever seen any of those."That's not all," Mr. O'Donnell said from the front of the room.  "After everyone's...
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