Sometimes I just want to start over. Tear out the page. Crumple it up. Toss it into the nearest garbage can. Press delete. Delete. Delete. Begin again. Change everything....
The ER is a dreary place. Even more so at 2:00am. It was quiet. Eerily so. I don’t know what I was expecting. A scene from the television show perhaps. Blood, guts and...
I have a love-hate relationship with running. Going right back to that first time over 30 years ago. Back then, I would have scoffed at the notion of running every day. Killed...
As far back as I can remember, I wrote. Private young-girl thoughts in secret diaries, then poetry filled with teenage angst and dark poetry peppered with profanity. I wrote daily letters to God in Hilroy notebooks, short stories and poems for kids, sad country songs, and raw truth-telling stories about life growing up in a blue-collar neighbourhood in Northwestern Ontario. These are those stories and poems.
