American Writer, Photographer, and Website Designer. Former career Fire and EMS Lieutenant. She/Her/Lesbian.

Category: Writing

  • My Photography Style Was Inspired By The Feelings Of Abandonment


    When I was eight years old, my family moved from New York City to a small town in Upstate New York. At first, I hated living in this small town and all the changes that came with it. But as I got older, I began to love my new life there, especially the quiet and the abundance of open space. My interest in photography was spawned from my fascination with abandoned buildings and urban exploration. A lot of people often wonder why someone would want to go into a creepy old building, but they’re missing the point—I don’t go there to be scared, I go because I like the way it makes me feel; it’s an art form. Abandoned places…

  • In Some Forgotten Dream


    Last week I walked away from an almost 30-year relationship with someone I called my best friend for many years. What hurts the most is that I will forever remember the last thing that people say to me as they are leaving. When I met him, we were both enrolled at an all-boys boarding school; my father had forced me to attend because he thought that by doing so, his daughter could be molded into a son. Our last conversation was about how he saw himself as the most successful person from our high school graduating class, and that nobody from our class was nearly as successful as him. I of course disagreed, citing that success cannot be measured based…

  • Almost 4 AM


    April 9, 2022 This morning I rolled over, I tossed and turned, and couldn’t get back to sleep. It was almost 4 AM, and my mind was racing, filled with the thoughts of old days gone by, plans for the future, and everything in between. I woke up to the sound of raindrops against my bedroom window; a storm had positioned itself on the horizon. It reminded me of my younger years, where, in my mind, it was always raining with a storm cloud hanging over me. That was then, this is now, and now is my time. Although I could not sleep last night, this morning I am thrilled to be alive. I thought about the contentedness and the…

  • Meeting Mitch In New York City


    March 16, 2022 Today I took a trip to New York City to show Apartment 2 of my childhood home to a new tenant, [name withheld]. She is a wonderful woman, an actress from Holland, who is a friend to [name withheld] who have rented an upstairs apartment from me for many years. She immediately fell in love with the apartment and was more than happy to give me the asking price, and to my amazement, she signed the lease agreement on the spot! Later in the afternoon, I decided to meet up with my friend Mitch in Brooklyn. Mitch had some time to spare that afternoon, and the plan was to meet at Hungry Ghost Coffee at the corner…

  • Fame Itself Is A Cancer And Ego Its Seed

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    No matter what I do, it seems that it seldom works out. On the rare occasion when it does, my triumph and success results in the jealousy of others who then seek to undermine and destroy that which I have accomplished. When I was a child, I was told that being different in some ways was a gift; I however, was different in every single way. I had my own unique way of doing things, especially when it came to writing. I was influenced by Allen Ginsberg, who mentored me, and inspired me to write in such a way that combined poetry and prose. Decades later, this is how I still write to this day, notwithstanding modern education with its’…

  • Lyrics That Influenced A Generation


    Much of my writing was influenced by the song lyrics I grew up listening to as a child.  The music artists from the 1990’s era were especially influential, such as Pearl Jam, R.E.M., Toad The Wet Sprocket, Counting Crows, and Sarah McLachlan.  They are lyrics that influenced a generation, and those which inspired me creatively. While a handful of the individual song titles eventually became titles for my writing and photography, creativity in and of itself is nothing more than a mashup of the experiences in ones life.  It is the culmination of thoughts, experiences, conversations, and ideas. Recently, Amelia and I were discussing the band R.E.M., and how it would be unprecedented if the band reunited and went on…

  • Only The Moon Understands The Beauty Of Love

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    The last remaining hours of the year slowly ticked by as I watched the New Years Eve special on television, live from my home town of New York City. It seems that the winter, cold and bitter, and drearily silent, gives reason for one to think about the year, as once again one starts to draw picture-perfect maps of how their life and love will be for the year to come. I held Amelia through the night in such a way where only the moon understands the beauty of love. We gazed into each other’s eyes in the realization that I can still be who I need to be, the person I said I was, when I first met her.…

  • There Is A Ceiling In The Darkness

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    Last night I was plagued by nightmares in my sleep; recurring dreams in which I was dying through a series of tragic events. I spent the duration of yesterday thinking about my 22 year fire department career. Last night I as I lay awake, I realized that there is a ceiling in the darkness, and now is the time that I need to finally tell my story. These are the critical incidents I now think about, sometimes up to 10 minutes out of every day. The memories are always with me; they never go away, and time does not heal the wounds. Incident #1:When I was a new medic, I was a work talking to a coworker of mine about…

  • Caught Daylight


    This morning I caught daylight much too soon and in the cold foggy morning of Vermont as I lay awake, I stared out the window with not much to say outside of the thoughts circling within my mind. It seems that winter comes earlier and earlier with each passing year, bringing with it the promise of snow filled days spent inside thinking about the year. The wintertime gives me plenty of time to wonder about what I want to do with the rest of my life, and with each passing year, I know that I’m getting older, too. Time itself means nothing, yet through space and time, there exists a common denominator in which as humans we perpetually need more…

  • In Another Set Of Chances I’d Take The One’s I’ve Missed

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    I used to write in riddles, and I used to write in rhymes; my body ached to write the words, the prose is what kept me alive. I write into the dark veil of the night, and in another set of chances, I’d take the ones I’ve missed. All the times in which I spoke into the silence, and whenever I do it seems I don’t speak, except to cry out and wait for an answer. I came into this world alone, marked in constellation, and when all else is gone, I will still be here. There’s a ceiling in the darkness, I am but a lifeless face that you’ll soon forget. There’s a monster living under my bed who…