You don’t know.

You don’t know,

Little girl,

What it is

To be a woman.

Take down your hair

and take up your head

and strengthen your eyes

and soften your stare.

Look at me

I once was you.

Once upon a time

I was alone like you.

I am you. Little girl,

I know what it is

To be.

Sometimes you feel like

Nothing will ever be like this

And it won’t.

It will be better

And it will be worse

And your heart will almost burst

With love and with pain.

I hope more love than pain.

I know more love than pain.

Because I am you,

Little girl.

I Write.

I write. Someday it would be nice to get paid for it. But I work a day job and write at night. It works for now.

Here are some things about me. I write television, novels, and poetry (sometimes). I have a few projects in progress. I’m 25 and I live in Los Angeles. My block has a lot of barking dogs. I rent a one bedroom apartment. I share it with a half-dead plant that Joe waters for me every time he comes over. Actually I don’t share the apartment with the plant. It lives outside. The plant situation is why Joe thinks I shouldn’t get a cat.

Grandma Marilyn

My Grandma loved the Dodgers. This is the first season my Grandpa will have to watch the season alone. I cried on the way to work as people on the radio talked about the price of a baseball game proposal. It was dumb but I thought of her. She really loved baseball.