The Elephant Journal
“9 Proposals for a Thoughtful Life from a Serial Inquirer” January 2016
“The Mirage Across the River” August 2015
No one really lives in Harrisburg. A city of lost toys, a mirage across the river that appears only between Friday night and Sunday morning, then lost in a mist of concrete dust from toppled buildings and road construction when Monday comes again. The commuters, the businesses, the federal agencies, they have no attachments here. They are merely existing in a place. Living in Harrisburg is relegated to the few who shoulder the brunt of the city taxes—the ones who can’t access groceries without a car, the burnouts and the families, the hipsters and the septuagenarian cat owners.
The Burg May 2015
From the Fallout Shelter 2014/2015
“Importance, Presence, and a Door” (Winner, best Fiction)
Excerpt from the winning fiction piece:
The sun begins to peep through my closed blinds, making visible the overabundance of dust suspended like near-rotten fruit in a cheap jello salad, and finally meets my crusty eyes. Here I lay, spread-eagle on my bed, stained with menstrual blood and hummus, moving only my head to meet the light. The sun manages to rise every morning; I simply can’t bring myself to do the same, anymore.
The Burg January 2015
“Poems: Arithmatic Lovers, Fish, and Consumer’s Cathedral” January 2015
Sigma Tau Delta Rectangle 2015
“Emotional Insulation” 2015
It is unlikely that A&E will make a show about it, but emotional hoarding is a described as an inability to let go of certain feelings resulting in a stagnation of personal growth. Everyone collects certain friends, ideologies, even grudges, but when it is time to abandon those that are no longer relevant, many find it hard to say goodbye. This sense of security we find within our own minds can cushion the blows of reality, but eventually, it knocks down even the thickest of walls.
The last night I spent house-sitting, dreaming of a fire that consumed me along with the house, I worried whether I was dreaming or not and if my family would blame me for the phantom fire. With only a skeletal cat to keep me company, I stared at the insidious shadows bouncing off the high ceilings. The room seemed infinite. The only thing protecting me from the outside world was a blanket I found, curled up on the longest sofa available to me. I turned the fake fireplace off after the waking world took hold of me and I shivered in the dark until morning.
From the Fallout Shelter 2012-2013
From the Fallout Shelter is the literary journal of Penn State Harrisburg, and my painting, titled “Vanity” was chosen for publication in this issue. The work was done entirely using makeup and nail polish. This was my first published work while in college.