I love learning about linguistic trends. Sometimes the fluidity of language can be frustrating and sometimes it’s a gift, a cultural touchstone. I was not a Buffy devotee (didn’t watch much TV in those days) but I can nonetheless appreciate the impact of the show on popular culture. Thanks to my friend Susan Ryan for posting this on Facebook: “Add it up, it all spells ‘duh’”: the language of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer | OxfordWords blog.


No Film at Eleven          8/4/11           ©2011 by Heidi Parsons

I don’t wanna go
To another film alone
An’ I’m tir’d of comin’ home
Jus’ta chew a doggie bone

To the cold corner banished
When humanity vanished
Don’t mind me, I’ll just lie here
A-lickin’ my wounds

Where’s the life I once had
Where’s the comp’ny I kept
All that faded to black
And there ain’t nothin’ left

Sitting here in a room
In a flat in the ‘burbs
I might as well be in
The Mojave Desert



I’ve been active for a few years on various social media (LinkedIn, Twitter, and now Pinterest for business interactions, and Facebook for personal communication), but this is my first foray into the blogosphere.  As an independent contractor, I recognize the need to put myself and my work “out there” in a more public manner, so me voici, tout le monde. I recently left BNP Media, where I was senior editor for Packaging Strategies, a semi-monthly newsletter (available as a digital issue or a PDF) for several hundred professionals in the packaging and consumer packaged goods (CPG) industries. Over the past few months, I also wrote a number of articles for Brand Packaging magazine, a sister publication to Packaging Strategies. Links to two of those articles follow:



I enjoy writing profiles because meeting and getting to know people — especially people who love what they do for a living — is the best part of being a journalist.

I also write poetry from time to time; here’s a recent example:

EVE    ©2012 by Heidi Parsons    

She danced from blue to indigo
then twirled her violet skirt before
she tangoed into aubergine
and spiraled into ebony
her laughter sparkled, sprayed
across the space in finest droplets
until the echoes ebbed
and all was still

what then could I do
but stagger back and stand in awe
at her dark beauty
drawing me into its depths

my jukebox mouth is out of songs
my razor tongue has lost its edge
my mind a canvas waiting for
a brush’s tinted touch
and yet there is no sorrow
as I watch my words take flight
a warm air updraft
carries me to morn