37 Windows ~ home & family matters

Sifting through blog posts working backwards I found this. Family memories shift and time changes but the love can never be deleted and a home not a house never erased.   37 Windows by Jacqueline Cioffa My parent’s house has 37 windows and countless memories. It’s the home my Mom grew up in. I know every nook and cranny; I’ve heard all her childhood tales. It’s the 37 windows that her father,

Training Wheels and Little Blond Curls #StolenMoments

From time to time you’ll see Stolen Moments show up on the blog. Words forgotten and misplaced, poetry, anticipatory memories, prose, joy and sorrow, pensive emotion, random and not so random thoughts scribbled in tattered notebooks. To not forget but remember the precious, fleeting stolen moments in time. I’m a writer trying recapture on paper how it feels to be alive. Training Wheels and Little Blond Curls Jacqueline Cioffa 1998

beautiful you

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost.” – Martha Graham

I hate the word #BiPolar. It’s ugly, an overused throwaway word.‬ #I’mAWhatever

I couldn’t resist responding to the lovely Carol Adriana Estrella‘s post on Facebook this morning. “Doing a small survey: What are your first thoughts when you hear the word “bipolar”. Being that is an illness, I see it used around A LOT as an adjective or a subject.” Visit the very hip and informative blog Is Ok Not To Be Ok to view some of the varied responses (including my abridged one). Carol explains, “I did a very informal

Drowning by Mouse

Woke up to a flooded basement (only a little), and a head that feels like it’s in a vice-grip. I have taken half a Benadryl, Alka-Seltzer and Flonase with only marginal relief. Not matter what’s happening or how shitty I feel, my personal summer goal is to swim every single day. And, it only counts if I get my head wet. Duh, everybody knows that. Don’t they? Went to the gym and for a

"This first Friday in June, all I know is I am doing my best. My very damnedest. And it looks like this…"

I felt like this today. You don’t need to hear about the numbness, excruciating pain, overwhelming anxiety, residual anxiety, paranoia, dizziness  or that I prayed to whomever was listening to just end it. Fucking end the ridiculous, relentless, ad nauseam, non-sensical hours that consume my days. Frankly it’s wearing me down, ripping me to shreds and fucking exhausting fighting invisible monsters. Yes, I know I’m sick. Yes, I understand tapering off benzos is

"I have always believed there is indeed room for us all." Authors inspiring authors

Authors supporting authors is groovy! I have learned so much from some fierce, fabulous authors and continue to be inspired by their talent, words and willingness to share. Thank you for being cheerleaders, kind motivators, smart and courageous trailblazers. I have always believed there is indeed room for us all. To grow, to learn, to get inspired, to dream bigger. Get ready to meet some pretty spectacular writers, and human beings. Inspiration

“The chaos comes with you,” simply stated my friend. -The Red Bench excerpt by Jacqueline Cioffa

           “As an artist do I need constant flux to create? How will I find words in the woods surrounded by trees and rotten cornfields? How will I find anything besides dying, wet leaves? I cannot escape the volume in my head, the constant churning. The Jesus fucking Christ, turn it down chatter. I have been told to be patient. Wait for the drugs, the quieting veil, and the lavender