I closed my bedroom door after 9/11. Whatever evil lurked outside my apartment would have to open an extra door to find me.
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This story the day after Nanci Griffith’s death will always be incomplete, because how can I tell you about the 10-year-old friend I never had?
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I wrote a poem about the last Blockbuster still in operation, but it’s also about returning to a time gone by and maybe even a flame that still flickers.
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A 2005 column I wrote came from a part of my brain not normally accessed when I typed my thoughts on a laptop.
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A tweet and a song last night sent me down memory lane about writing on an unforgiving deadline, and the things our brains do to try to help.
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A bully, a coach and a nun did me wrong when I was a child. Sometimes, evil literally whips your ass.
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Three years ago today, I came out as a transgender woman. The past year has been the hardest of the three.
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Ten years ago today, I got in my Honda Civic to start a 3,140-mile drive to a new home and a new life.
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Tom Hanks is a big believer in breathing, I told a friend with PTSD seven years ago. Here are the quotes I shared with her.
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