Walking in Circles Before Lying Down



The first-person story of a young woman who discovers that, sometimes, dogs are the best guides for love, loss, and life.

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)


North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)


Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I think one of the things that makes me unique is that as far back as I can remember, I've always talked to a lot of things besides people. I found it comforting a way to prove that I existed from early childhood on. I was haunted by the feeling that no one could hear me. I was not without my reasons. My mother Joyce demanded and usually got all of whatever attention was available. She was beautiful enough to have stumbled into an accidental modeling career when she was 17 just by waving at a photographer at the beach dressed in her yellow plaid shorts set and a big straw hat. She looked like a cast member of some seldom seen television show greeting smitten fans. A few months later when her picture turned up in hundreds of inexpensive frames for sale at discount drugstores, it made my mother a local celebrity. unfortunately because she had signed a release and accepted $50, she never received any more money, but once she realized that people knew who she was, she felt entitled to dominate any gathering large or small whether or not she had anything to say. I figured out early on that getting a word in edgewise wasn't going to be in the cards for me. So I became a quiet obedient kid, good at blending in easy to overlook. I learned to cope with my need for attention by creating my own private personal rituals to make myself feel special. As early as second grade, I'd take the phone into the closet when I got home from school and call local radio shows so I could dedicate songs to myself. Then I'd spend hours by the radio, switching from station to station in the hope that at least one DJ would say you light up my life by Debby Boone goes out to the girl who lights up everybody's life. Don tarn our I never did hear anyone say it, but I kept right on hoping while I waited, I would pretend to host my own tv show for guests. I would interview whatever was available, my plastic horses, my stuffed animals, my mother's cat, my chair, my own reflection. But the day everything changed was the first time that anything ever answered me back. I was born to the pre feminist version of my mother. A woman with a constantly lit cigarette and a perpetually jiggling leg bored out of her mind, but not sure what to do about it. I think she saw her firstborn, much the same way she did her never finished pieces of Decca pot as something that needed more work than she had time for