To Not Losing Oneself Within Another’s Arms
In one of my all-time favourite comfort shows, Sex and the City, one of the main characters, Miranda, during brunch with her three best friends, in a moment of frustration, asks, “How does it happen that four smart women have nothing to talk about but boyfriends?” As a woman in her late twenties, like Miranda,…
Working With A Dying Man
Today marks two years since Papa’s passing. I recently rediscovered these musings in my Google Drafts. I wrote them while employed at IEC and bits and pieces after his passing. He often told me that he wanted me to write about my experience working with him (very Jan of him). “You could call it Working…
Memaw’s Closet
In memory of Pansy Anderson It’s an odd thing to pave the road for someone who is about to die, the sterile logistics of losing a loved one. You make funeral arrangements like calling a restaurant for a dinner reservation. You discuss cremation or burial, like asking a friend which dress looks better before a…
The Dichotomy of the Starving Artist
Introduction from my book, Crumbs From a Starving Artist. The conception of this book began with my own personal ponderings regarding the dichotomy of the starving artist. As a recent university graduate entering the workforce, I spontaneously moved several thousand miles from a small town in British Columbia to the big city of Los Angeles.…
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Here we are, you and me- welcome to the medium in which I feebly attempt to merge the pulses of my heart and rationalities of my mind. So let’s sit together, whatever capacity that may be, as I express my imperfect journey through the power of words. Together we will color in the grey with question marks, sentence fragments, improper grammar, and maybe just maybe- add some color.
Abigail Sefzik 