BC Woods · BC Woods on MySpace · Contact BC Woods
When I was in the eighth grade a holocaust survivor came in to talk to my school about survival and forgiveness. She spent an hour, speaking about her experience and how she had moved on from what had happened to her and reached a new plane of tranquility. I remember sitting in the bleachers and thinking: "good for her ... but I still hate my sister." That single thought sets the tone for how I think and feel about most things.

I was born April 1st, 1985 the second of five children, and as fate would have it I developed a rather quirky sense of humor. The road to this place has taken me through a series of homes, a saw mill and an oil rig I am trying desperately to forget.

I make no claims that I have suffered more than others, and I have no delusions that I am the first to ever write on this topic. However, dear reader, if you would be so kind I would like to show you some of the strange and bizarre moments that have made up the life of BC Woods.

Jane · Jane on MySpace · Contact Jane
When I was still a child, I served two distinct purposes for my parents. My mother saw me as a small and malleable toy and was excited to have her own living, breathing doll to play dress up with. And my father finally discovered what it felt like to meet and exceed someone's expectations and to experience unconditional love.

Now they keep me around for spare parts, in case my brother needs a kidney.

I used to think my upbringing was pretty normal. Then again, I also believed that my father's appendix scar was a bayonet wound from Vietnam. And that he didn't wear his wedding ring because of a metal allergy. So I'm writing about my not-so-normal childhood and teenage years in an attempt to make room for new skeletons in the closet.

J. Parker · J. Parker on MySpace · Contact J. Parker
I'm a 33 year old IT drone working in New York City. I'm originally from the Midwest, but using only a shank, an expired credit card, and a paperclip, I escaped.

My youth was a bad sitcom written by the bastard ass-baby conceived when Tim Burton, Lenny Bruce and Charles Bukowski teamed up on Woody Allen. As a result, I am neurotic and agoraphobic, have a nearly 100% discount rate on life decisions, struggle with substance abuse and suffer from almost all of the symptoms of PTSD. To tell you the truth, I'm pretty fucked up, but in an endearing way.