Things I Have Written

"A bird does not sing because it has an answer -- it sings because it has a song."
--a slogan found in "The Arts" section of Nancy Lebovitz's Calligraphic Button Catalogue

Perhaps that's why all this stuff is up here, even though many people are surprised that I would put up some of the more personal stuff.

Last new item listing added 16 October 2004. And all of the original stuff is copyrighted by me, as you would expect.

Commentary and Opinion

A Doll Like Me
An essay (also posted on on how the dolls in the toystore didn't look like me.
What Is A Slut? (And What's Wrong With That?)
Musings on American society's view of women's sexuality.
Online Community: What Can It Give?
My experiences with several different online communities.
Why I Will Not Fly US Airways Anymore
A detailed explanation of the business practices that caused me to refuse to give any more of my money to this airline.
It's The Most Difficult Time For My Ears
Complaining about the bombardment of bad Christmas music that happens every December.
The Eccentric Reader's Advisory
Not quite book reviews, but thoughts inspired by something I'm reading.
Thoughts on the Terrorist Attacks
What a random American thinks about the events of September 2001.
Tracking My Site's Visitors
The problems of tracking the visitors to one's web site.
A Few Bad Apples
Complaints about the students who make it frustrating to keep teaching.
O Christmas Tree
Musings on what my Christmas tree says about me.
The freedom to marry or not to marry.
On American Party Politics
Thoughts on third parties, written before a winner of the 2000 U.S. Presidential election was declared.
Repost (slightly rewritten) of an essay lost due to a Crosswinds file problem. It's about the difficulty of communication with one of my friends.
On the Loss of a Friend
An essay about a friend who gave up our friendship.
An essay that had been floating around in my head for a while, but was kicked into gear by my reading an article about a study that asserts that child sexual abuse may not always be harmful to children.
Thoughts on the jobs I've had and want.
Gradually, I'm taking my childhood diaries and putting them online. Nostalgia for childhood, for the 1980's, or even a sample of how someone writes at each age.
I am a Lucy Stoner
If you don't know who Lucy Stone was, or why I call myself a follower of her beliefs, you might learn something here.
On Dance
An essay written on one of the greatest pleasures in my life.
Glasses Griping
The saga of buying a new pair of eyeglasses for the first time in eight years.
Net Addict
Some musing on who the net addicts I know really are.
Just some description of the cats currently in my life.
Dogwood Days
Fond memories of a tree I grew up with.
A Conceit
In literature, a conceit is an extended metaphor. This is a very short, slightly depressing piece written about a lantern that decorates my apartment.
Joyful Noise
A companion piece to Damage Control detailing all the music I listened to and loved up to the present.
Damage Control
An annotated list of my favorite books throughout my life, the ones that have helped shape me.
Everybody Says I'm Courageous
Musings on the feedback from these pages.
A problem of my life around the time of the essay's writing.
Sitting On An Angry Chair
Thoughts on my problems dealing with anger.
I don't have an organized religion. Here are some musings on the disorganization that fills its place for me.
Stuff about how I relate to my environment.
An explantation of every problem that commonly occurs in the process of me getting into romantic relationships (or not getting into them.)
The Body
The weirdly varying connection between my brain and my body.
With A Lot Of Help From My Friends
About the problems of day-to-day life for me. At least during May 1996.
A Letter To My Grandfather
An unsent letter to my maternal grandfather, who sexually abused me.
Various thoughts from one of the less pleasant times in my life.
You can do a lot to mess up a child without ever leaving a bruise. Memories of how long I've been messed up, I guess.
Living with myself and my environment.


The Colorbear Saga
A children's story for adults, sort of, co-written with high school friend Jeni Shepardson.
Not Quite Fairy Godmothers
Just a morbid little story about what people really want.
Anatomy of Jealousy
This is a story I wrote freshman year of college. My, that feels like such a long time ago when I read this thing. But hey, teenagers can be teenagers no matter where they are from, right?
So Far, and Yet So Close
This was my Honors Project, and so resides in the University of South Florida library, if anyone would prefer a paper copy via Inter-Library Loan. But here it is anyway. I'm not entirely satisfied with it; I've been told it's more like the outline for a novel than a short story (actually novella by word count). Maybe someday I'll expand it.
The Tumbleweed
Basically, this is a dorm in-joke blown up to over-large proportions. Lots of people I know like it, but most of them have been residents of Lambda dorm. (Do not read if sex between consenting family members 16 years or older bothers you.)
The Adventures of Polymorph Girl (and her loyal sidekick Pervert Boy)
I am only the chronicler who, with their permission, will make the story of these superheroes available to the world.
Cinderella: A Play
Complete juvenilia -- Two friends and I wrote this script when the oldest of us was 12. A sophomoric, yet still funny, comedic retelling of the classic fairy tale.


The Just (Les Justes)
This is my second draft of a translation of Albert Camus' 1949 play "Les Justes," which I read in the original language in high school French class and loved so much I wanted to translate it into English for others to read. (There are other translations, but my introduction explains why I don't like them.)


Most of my poetry sucks, but here are the few that don't make me flinch to reread them.

With Delicate Mad Hands
I stole the title from a James Tiptree, Jr. story because the image appealed to me, but the subjects have nothing in common.
This is a work in progress. I don't know what to do with it; its content is ok but I'm never satisfied with the words. Perhaps knowing that people are reading the old versions will spur me to work on it so that it will be better.

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