andrea

“Perspective. Storytellers tell their own stories. They don't mean to. They let their life experiences and ideas slip in between the bits and pieces of history that have come to them. There are so many versions among us, of this first woman, this mother of Manaboozhou, Nanabush, our goofy, loving, mixed up teacher and hero. They are all valid. They are all real. They are all traditional. None of us knows them all by heart. We take the parts that we need and understand. These are the stories that we share with our children. In a sense, that makes us all a little bit like Winona and Epanigishimoog. We are the creators of the Anishnabe generations who come after us. I like that responsibility.”
― Lois Beardslee, Lies to Live By

“What can I do? I can only breathe in deeply. I can only bellow in a church that is deep inside of myself. I can only blast a shell-shaped horn that would shake down the oldest buildings. I can only leap for joy in my sacred inner caves and ring out the message: I am alive. I woke up again. I might as well be sprouting leaves, I might as well be covered in little clams.”
― Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

“The love myth I bought into was human-made, fallible. A modern invention. I couldn’t see this. To me, love existed outside of time, space, or bank accounts. I believed in the idea of two lonely souls finding each other and finding completeness. Not exactly happily ever after—in fact, wasn’t a little tumult the mark of true love? It was more like desperately ever after.”
― Nina Renata Aron, Good Morning, Destroyer of Men's Souls: A Memoir of Women, Addiction, and Love

“Determined to appease, to be flexible and hide my true feelings, which came out when I was alone, writing frantically in my journal, or more rarely in snide remarks under my breath. But mostly I wrapped up my real feelings and buried them. If you do this long enough, you stop being able to tell what your real feelings even are.”
― Nina Renata Aron, Good Morning, Destroyer of Men's Souls: A Memoir of Women, Addiction, and Love