Carolyne Mas

I have decided to publish a chapter from the book that I began to write in 2011. All of these chapters are extremely personal and tell the story of some of the things I have struggled with my entire life - self esteem, men, love, womanhood, beauty, career - and by writing about them, I have been able to purge my soul of at least a few of its demons.

Funny how it is for some of us, that only by bearing our souls are we able to overcome our intense shyness. This is the paradox I have dealt with for decades as…

I have decided to share with you some of the experiences I had as a female rocker in what was a very male-dominated field in the 1970s; this will be my first story in a series of several. You have already read here about my struggle with bulimia, but it is not the only struggle that I experienced on an intimate level. The attempts by my manager and others to control my personal life seem extreme when examined through the lens of today’s world.

I got married at nearly the same time as when I signed my first…

I came across this poem while cleaning out an old suitcase. It was written in 1988, when I lived in Pasadena, California. I must have had one hell of an argument with my boyfriend, LOL! ~ C.

CLASSICAL FALLOUT

I have always wondered what it would be like

to wake up the morning after the atom bomb.

(You move mechanically

into the kitchen

boiling water for coffee.

Perhaps a bit of Mozart

as a backdrop

to our bitter, uncivilized silence.

You shift uncomfortably

upon your white-hot throne

biting the…

I knew that my mother wanted a pair of red, white, and blue sailboat clip-on earrings to wear on the Fourth of July, so my boyfriend and I decided to make it our mission to find them that day. It was June of 1991, and we were visiting from Germany, where I had been living for nearly two years. Having no car, we relied on buses to get us to and from my parents’ house in Palm Harbor, Florida. There was a bus stop on the main road within walking distance, and we set out on our quest early that day.

First…

When I was growing up, I lived in a subdivision of Woodbury called "The Gates." The houses were on single acre plots of land, but many were still surrounded by deep woods. Long Island was booming with subdivisions in the 1960's, many of which had formerly been farms or orchards.

Our development had been part of a large hilly estate with an apple orchard and the main house was still standing in those days. It looked like something from an old horror movie, with its once stately brick exterior now overgrown…

I seemed to be on a roll in 6th grade. We were already moving from classroom to classroom almost like high school kids, with different teachers for different subjects. Mrs. Hardwick taught English, and she looked every bit her name. I don't know why, but looking back it seems as if most of my elementary school teachers had been gray-haired spinsters with stern, rigid faces.

One week, we were told to prepare an oral book report to present in front of the class. For my report, I chose a book by Mary Stewart…

When I was a child, we lived in a small stone house not far from the town of Tuckahoe. 88 Lawrence Avenue was the address. I loved this house and I dream of it still.

Right off of the kitchen there was a winter garden which had been added to the back of the house, with windows overlooking a rock wall out back where my parents would hide Easter Eggs and firecrackers - not simultaneously, of course. The dreamy morning sun would glaze over the cool slate tiles, and I often preferred to play on the floor as…