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Decisions

June 12, 2010

I used to really like that Neil Peart-penned line from Rush’s “Freewill” that said, “If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.” Then I came face-to-face with decisions that seemingly had no other choice but to decide.

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The Decaying Winds

May 17, 2010

A brief note: Despite my sidebar note, this poem is actually one I’ve written and revised over a period of probably three to four years (no, literally).

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Do This For Me

May 11, 2010

Do this for me.

If this will hurt,
Like a pinprick for a drop of blood
That could speak volumes,
Then I do not want it.

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Small Town People

May 11, 2010

The funny thing about people in small towns
(And you know what I mean by funny —
Not really amusing but bemusing)
Is that, no matter how long you wait,
No matter how many blows life can get in,
The most consistent result you’ll ever see
Is that each day the world gets newer
And the people get samer.

And Justice For…One

April 6, 2010

You know that cliché about being careful about what you wish for? That is possibly the most absurd aphorism I have ever heard in my life.

Unfortunately for me, it also happens to be applicable to my life. Figures.

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The Biggest Test

March 7, 2010

Lilia had always hated tests. She remembered the heart-rending anxiety she used to get in grade school at those stupid standardized tests that came every year or two and the virtual panic attacks that ensued. They – the string of insensitive teachers she’d had – called her the “test case of test anxiety.” (And they meant this literally – she knew that she had been observed by some psychological or education types along the way to evaluate her crippling fear of multiple-choice questions and No. 2 pencils.)

She thought that it would go away, but of course it didn’t. And through high school (stupid ACT that she had to take three times before she could finish the test sufficiently to score a respectable 25) and college (switching from pre-law to political science after realizing that the LSAT would be in her future otherwise), she continued to fear being assessed for even the things she knew that she knew.

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The Art of Falling to Pieces

March 4, 2010

I have the worst luck of any writer ever.

It’s not just being a freelance writer in an economic downturn – although that does suck pretty badly. It’s not even the periodic bouts of military-grade writer’s block that I struggle with in a biweekly basis.

No, it’s much worse: my writing is making me fall apart.

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