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When I was 11 years old, I won first place for the fifth grade in a school wide writing contest. I remember writing in a tiny notebook in my bedroom when I was in grade school, trying to imitate the authors I was reading, creating stories of protagonists and their beautiful horses.

In high school, I wrote poetry dripping with angst and emotion. Poetry made its way onto my bedroom walls in sheets and so many years later permanently onto my arm. It wasn't until I moved abroad, though, 20 years after that 5th grade award, that I realized how integral writing was, is, to baci gay identity.

In the last six and a half years, I find that unless I write regularly, I struggle to process my experiences deeply. I feel a bit lost and detached from myself. I close my eyes to see myself floating in a dark amorphous space that begins to take clearer shape when my fingers finally have time to connect with my keyboard.

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So here I find myself today -- as a wild rice chicken casserole bakes in the oven, as Silvie has just knocked over the full garbage, again -- tuning in to myself, and baci gay on meeting an incredible writer in Singapore last weekend. I first encountered Roxane Gay when a friend forwarded an instagram story to me.

I bought the iBook pronto, and found myself immersed in story upon story of women in the midst of tragedy, ambiguity, fear, hope and growth. As international life would have it that is just slightly cringy -- I hear the privilege in all of thisI was at a conference in Nanjing as I was reading the book.

Noting my newfound enamorment the New Baci Dictionary hits print in June with Roxane Gay's writing, a couple of friends who live in Singapore told me that Gay would soon be making an appearance in Asia for the Singapore Writer's Festival. In moments like this, I feel entirely inspired by Mark Twain's words: "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do.

So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Let's be real -- the sobrinas aren't expecting for there to be any money in my will to do anything more than support the cats. My dear friend Ceci was present at this moment, and she endorses all things spontaneous -- within seven minutes, I had a hotel and plane ticket to Singapore for the festival, and a ticket for a seat in front of Ms.

Roxane Gay. Gay began her talk by reading an excerpt from her memoir Hunger. Pertaining to pop culture, her memoir will make you consider the frightening impact that shows like Biggest Loser are having on all of us. As I sat looking up at this queen, I was moved by so many of her words, not just those she was reading from her book, but those that kept echoing truth throughout the auditorium.

It's already there, you just have to allow yourself to access it," said Gay in her soft but firm baci gay. As a writer, as a woman, as the me who is working in so many ways to evolve, I found comfort here, a reassurance that I did not have to go rummaging through so many boxes sometimes, yelling "Marco" into an internal void, hoping to hear "Polo" singing back.

Gay's words align with my mindfulness practice, with yoga and meditation and coming to see that we already have what we need inside of us; it is about sitting in enough stillness to feel it. Getting in touch with my own Divine Feminine, it's been baci gay journey, one that will continue until the end of my days, but I have felt that power rising, rising in my breath, rising in my heart, rising in my voice.

Gay's response: "Just be a fucking feminist, which just means women are people. I love when we stop mincing words. At the end of Gay's session, the audience was invited to a book signing outside of the auditorium. Employing my greatest efforts to avoid my own greed, I had decided to have Ms.