I Once Had a LiveJournal

Back in the ’00s, like many now-eldering millenials, I made a LiveJournal. With a LiveJournal’s Internet superpowers, I could broadcast our generation’s voice to the public.

We were angry at this, high-fiving about that—flexing the muscles of what the Internet’s all about:

  • Stranger-danger connections.
  • Netiquette.
  • Cats.

Foreground…background from r/CatGifs

I invested more into blogging than I’ll go into detail here; safe to say, as a young woman with Asperger’s Syndrome, when I “get into” something, I really, really get into something, and I got mega into LiveJournaling.

But then that phase of my life—like many special interests before it,—came to an end.

It’s been a decade since I LiveJournaled.

½ Fiction: A Story from Solvang

While we were walking down a busy street in Solvang, I shouted at Chase, “Wait!”

So we waited, him posing, me at the ready, until no cars were zipping by.

I snapped a cute shot of him in front of lovely architecture, with an even lovelier street lamp, no doubt electric-powered, but reminiscent of a European gas lamp nonetheless;

and I felt a fairy-tale glimmer rustle up from my imagination, a gentle image of gas-lit puddles, cast like gold dust along the road, just for a moment, guiding our way.

Writing Philosophy: Fiction is Truth

Literature enthusiasts like to define fiction as “truth with a capital T,” which meant nothing to me in freshman English, and everything during my MFA’s autobiographical fiction project.

Within fiction lies truth became my chant, my alchemy, as I spun my past experiences—moments that were too dark for me to re-handle directly—and re-shaped it,
pulling blackness
from it, frothy gunk, until
my experiences were radiant
spools of iridescent thread
, materials
I could use to re-purpose a memoir
into an autobiographical, horror-
laced fairy tale,
½ fiction, ½ honesty.
Now I write all my fiction this way.

Especially after someone pisses me off.


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