Do Not Microwave

I didn’t read the warning,
in fact, I kinda forgot it was there,
and I microwaved my head.

My brain exploded.
It’s still squeezing out my nose
and ear canals
three hours later.

I think I may have irradiated my eyeballs too.
I’m seeing things
like unicorns and rainbows
and warning signs.

In fact, I think I’m beginning to see sound.

I suppose I should’ve read
the instructions on the bottom of the coffee cup
and not singed my eyebrows
or given myself brain cancer
and superhero powers.

I suppose I should’ve paid attention.

I suppose.

Interview: Emily Ramser Talks Alien Dolphins, Vaginas, and Her New Book

Emily Ramser:

Check out this awesome interview I did with Chelsei Crotteau! (The full version of the interview I shared earlier this week!)

Originally posted on As Told By Chelsei:

I sat down with my good friend Emily “Em” Ramser to discuss the release of her upcoming book, “I Forgot How to Write When They Diagnosed Me”, which will be released February 2015 from Weasel Press. We talked writing preferences, alien dolphins, and loss of nerve sensation.

As Told By Chelsei: Let’s start with the obvious. eBook versus physical. Why did you decide to go with publishing physical copies of your new book?
Emily Ramser: It’s like a dream since being a kid, when you’re a writer you want to hold [your book] in front of you and be ‘oh my gosh, this is my book, this is my work and I can hold it and see it and smell it. As weird as that sounds. We will be releasing eBook versions of it. Toast is coming out in a Kindle version soon and when I Forgot comes out…

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Why I Write (1)

I write lists of adjectives in an attempt to describe the color of the wood of the kitchen table when the afternoon sun hits it just before dinner. I write word after word, noun after noun. I write letters on pages, filling more notebooks than anyone has hopes of ever fully reading. I write because I cannot articulate the world through any other means. I write because my tongue does not have fingers with which I could describe the tilt of a woman’s chin when she is bent over an oil painting. I write phrases and idioms and clichés across the whiteboards of my classrooms, trying to make sense of how a scribble in black ink could carry such meaning. I write poems about the way the sand feels between my teeth when I swallow seawater accidently at the beach. I write because though the grains of sand may be stuck in my gums no one else can see them. I write to bring the invisible into the visible. I write when I cannot see. I write when I can see too much.

Inspired by Terry Tempest William‘s Essay “Why I Write.”

A Talk With One of Our Own

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Emily Ramser:

Check out this interview I did with The Salemite, Salem College’s newspaper.

Originally posted on The Salemite:

I sat down with Emily “Em” Ramser, on behalf of The Salemite to discuss the release of her upcoming book, “I Forgot How to Write When They Diagnosed Me”, which will be published by Weasel Press in February 2015. We talked about writing preferences, alien dolphins, and loss of nerve sensation.

SALEMITE: What is the story behind the title for your latest book, “I Forgot How to Write When They Diagnosed Me”?

RAMSER: The title comes from my own medical history. In the Spring of 2014, I was diagnosed with Small Fiber Neuropathy, which is basically, the way I describe it, is that your body falls asleep and you can’t wake it up and it just hurts all the time. It’s [usually] in your hands, your feet, your legs. It’s like caterpillars crawling across your skin. More recently, this past Fall, the Neurologists were unsure if I actually had Small…

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To the partner with OCD from the partner without OCD.

I’m sorry I didn’t know that blanket doesn’t go on the floor
I’m sorry I didn’t put the cap back on the pen
I’m sorry I folded your shirts wrong
I’m sorry I closed the door too slow
I’m sorry I never put my toothbrush in the right place
I’m sorry I didn’t make your pasta right
I’m sorry I wear my socks two or three days in a row
I’m sorry I used the wrong nail clippers
I’m sorry I borrowed your coat
I’m sorry I left my clothes on the floor
I’m sorry I sat in the seat not facing the entrance
I’m sorry I used your hairbrush without asking
I’m sorry I washed your ears with soap
I’m sorry I use highlighters the wrong way
I’m sorry I am not doing better
I’m sorry I am wrong so often
I’m sorry I don’t understand all the time
I’m sorry I don’t ask more questions
I’m sorry I don’t say I love you more often. 
I’m sorry. 

To Make A Wish, Throw A Penny At the Golden Gate Bridge

I leaned my arm back, twisting as if it were attached to a rusting mechanical gear, till my shoulder burned and squirmed unhappily. The ocean spray lept from where it had collided with the side of the boat, splashing my face in a reminder that I needed to be quick. We had only a few seconds at best. My eyes closed, and I whispered under my breath.

“I wish for my mom to finally be happy.”

I released the tension in my arm and it sprang forward, flinging the copper coin that had been resting in my palm towards to the underside of the great looming bridge above us.

Done for my Creative Nonfiction Class. Prompt was to write a happy memory showing tension in under 125 words.