Paperlungs.com (or the idea of a place like this) started when I was born, really. I’ve always known I wanted a place where I could write about the arrival and departure and the meticulous process of my most inner thoughts and topics ranging from school, to death, and joy and even the “miracle of being alive and what a pain it is”. I figured that “place” had to be a book. Right? The thing about a book, I figured, is that by the time it is published (if ever!) my ideas and views would have evolved. Then this endless cycle of editing and self-doubt will take over the book and my life. With a blog, however, the views are lodged somewhere, but not locked. Like what a museum of my mind might look like. I can add installations, add new pieces. And whenever a sculpture just starts to tease me with its outdated edges and dull descriptions, I can move it to the back and create a similar piece. A blog allows me to have the freedom to evolve alongside my writing.
The name Paper Lungs comes from a poem I wrote a while ago titled Knowing. The stanza reads:
I am still learning how to live in this life
What my role is or
If I even have one
How to kiss madness and
all ugly things
How to kiss men goodbye
How to sail into their sorrow when
They have nothing more to say
How to build paper lungs
all the poetry my mouth cannot contain
(You can read the entire poem here)
As simple as this poem is, it truly resonated with me. Thus, Paper Lungs was born.
Stuff About Rosie
I wanted to make this bio short. Really short. This doesn’t mean Paper Lungs will lack personality (Trust me, I will not hesitate to tell you all my embarrassing and cringeworthy stories) it’ll just have parts of my life scattered all over my writing. I’ll probably add more details the more I write. But for right now, this is it:
My name is Rosie Tiza! I came from Havana ,Cuba when I was 7 years old, and even when I couldn’t communicate with other human beings, I could communicate with books and writing perfectly fine. One of the first poetry books that I read was called My Beautiful Child by Lisa Desimini. This is sort of when it started to make sense that whatever I want it to do in life, would have to be linked to writing and poetry. Somehow. Less than a decade later, I discovered spoken word poetry and I went from there. Performing all over Miami and writing about anything that would cross my mind.