There Was a Girl

There Was a Girl

by RasmeniaNo Comments
There was a girl with strawberry blond hair woven into a braid that hung down the length of her back. Her blue eyes reflected the sky and absorbed everything beneath it as she sat next to the window in the school bus talking about Supergirl and Wonder Woman. About Spiderwoman and Batgirl and how Huntress had the best superhero costume because she wore a purple suit with a super cool mask.She kept her hands tucked under the school bag on her lap. Kids are less likely to make fun of what they can’t see and this girl knew all about that, so her hands stayed hidden. If they had eight fingers and two thumbs like everyone else's, it’d be different. She couldn’t conceal them all the time, but learning how to avoid drawing attention to them became second nature. A word like "syndactyly" was too strange and confusing for the first grade.Every day, we hopped off the bus at the...
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Art Awards, Americanism, and Arnold

Art Awards, Americanism, and Arnold

by RasmeniaNo Comments
The art award was a big deal. The level of fanfare was off the charts. If you were one of the lucky winners, you’d have some fantastic swag to prove your artistic bona fides, including a Certificate of Recognition, a placement ribbon, and an American flag pin. Yeah, just like the one politicians tack on to their lapels to prove how patriotic they are.Most importantly, it meant getting your picture in the local newspaper.My family did the usual thing. They snapped Polaroids of me proudly displaying my masterpiece. My image was stuck on the fridge, mailed off to relatives, and forever immortalized on a plastic photo mug that sits on a shelf next to my desk as I write this.The theme that year in the Americanism Fine Arts Contest sponsored by the PTA in Mill Village, Pennsylvania was, “Look Out Your Window…”.When I looked out my window, I apparently saw my dog, a spider, and a barn. Or maybe the...
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The Year I Forgot How to Live but Didn’t Die

The Year I Forgot How to Live but Didn’t Die

by Rasmenia2 Comments
No matter how things go wrong, it’s always a blindside. Life goes tits up on a fucking dime. There’s no warning. No easing into the skid. One day, it’s all systems nominal. The next you’re crashing down to Earth, staggering through the wreckage, reaching out for something solid to steady yourself for one goddamn second to get your bearings and reorient yourself. A daily routine is boring, but when it’s gone, you want it back as much as you’ve ever wanted anything in your life. We take quotidian predictability for granted.The upheaval starts because one day, something happens. Maybe Earth shaking and cataclysmic. But probably not. Most times, it’s a small thing. A sudden pain. A discomfort that won’t go away. Maybe something you knew was inevitable. The problem with inevitability, we always think it’s further away than it is. That we have more time. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear because the call is coming from inside...
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Laughing Through the Blood

Laughing Through the Blood

by Rasmenia1 Comment
I got the shopping cart for Xmas when I was 3 years old. Immediately, I began planning a shopping trip to 7-11. No, not a grocery store. Just as I would later insist as a stoned teenager craving a Super Big Gulp and risky nachos, it had to be the goddamn 7-11.The adults informed me I could not just wander off on a convenience store expedition on my own. This annoyed me. Stupid adults.Opportunity struck when I was left in the care of my Uncle Jay one afternoon. As soon as he turned his back, I grabbed my shopping cart and made a hasty exit. I still remember when he found me. Red-faced, panicked, and angry, my uncle pulled his car along the curb as I merrily strolled down the sidewalk, pushing my cart, with no idea how to get to 7-11 or anywhere else.“Get your ass in this car.”I got my ass in the car.Uncle Jay was 6’4” and...
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I Feel So Different

I Feel So Different

by RasmeniaNo Comments
People crowd the street, most of them women with flecks of silver in their hair and lines on their face etching a map back to who they used to be: young women full of joy and anguish. Weird, creative girls trying to survive the constant pressure of what parents, friends, schools, and institutions said they couldn’t and shouldn’t do. Lonely girls who want to scream and dance and smash convention and patriarchy but feel powerless to do so.The music in the street gets louder and one woman in the crowd, a grandmother in leather and Doc Martens, pounds on her heart with her fist, eyes closed, oblivious to all those around her as she sings along with Sinéad:I'll remember it And Dublin in a rainstorm And sitting in the long grass in summer Keeping warm I'll remember it Every restless night We were so young then We thought that everything We could possibly do was right Then we moved Stolen...
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That Shiny Newfangled Technology Can’t Do the Work for You

That Shiny Newfangled Technology Can’t Do the Work for You

by RasmeniaNo Comments
The venue reeks of cheap coffee. Creaks and groans of tables and chairs dragging on the hardwood floor echo, bouncing off the high ceiling. Barely audible beneath it all is the mumbling of socially awkward writers mingling in the early morning.The chipped folding tables are covered with cloths. Stacks of books and displays are propped up, tip over, then propped up again. Chatter and laughter rise in volume proportional to the increasing number of bodies.A quiet little man with a single stack of books stands next to his wife, who looks at no one and speaks to no one. He shows me his book. Shows me photos of himself with his book. Tells me how impressed people are with his work. And so on.This guy, my neighbor for the day, nods toward my carefully laid-out display of books. My short story trilogy, finally complete.“How long did these take you to write?”The way he asks this, it feels like a trick...
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