That Moment...

TMW you're watching Aliens and realised what a genius James Cameron is. That film is years ahead of its time.

 

Happy Birthday for tomorrow!

I take it you're turning 27? That's not to bad. I turn 31 next month.

 

I'm 26, so ha!

#26forlyfe

TMW... You are writing your story and suddenly your anxiety explodes and wants you to do three different things at once to satisfy your OCD urges. Anxiety, please shut the fuck up and let me do this. Or else I'll drink three Guinness and read 50 Shades of Gray.

Ah, that chased my anxiety away.

 

That moment when one is perusing the racks and rails in a second-hand clothing shop and something catches the eye. Even better, it fits like a glove, still has all the original tags on, and is being sold for buttons. Not only that, the sale of said item raises money for cancer research, so it's good to pay something extra above and beyond the asking price.

A win-win situation if ever there was.

 

TMW you are surprised where, during the middle of your writing session, your white main character suddenly wants to feel the hair of his black best friend/secret crush while they're watching sports together. And you, a white person, have no idea what their hair feels like.

Um, can anyone tell me what their hair feels like so I don't have to make things awkward in real life?

TMW you think we need a sweatdrop emoticon. Y'know, like the one they have in the animes to show when a character is embarrassed/feeling awkward?

 

I'd suggest you leave that bit out. Sometimes black people feel fetishised by white people's fascination with their hair, so some readers may really not like it. You actually do get white people going up to black people in the street and asking to touch their hair. :S

Anyway, to answer your question, it's the same as white people's hair - it feels very different depending on the style, condition, products used, country of origin, etc. If you do keep it in, let your imagination fly.

 

TMW a task as mundane and undesirable as giving the refrigerator a good top-to-bottom cleaning seems preferable to doing abs. Abs, I love having you; I hate making you.

 

TMW you give a lesson on black-out poetry and the results are way better than you expected.

 

Thanks for letting me know, I'll take it out.

TMW you feel you've dodged a bullet on that one.

 

That moment when you sign your first NDA and have officially become a part of a writing group for a game.

Slightly terrified. I need hugs and a thumbs up, hahah.

 

That moment when you think you're sober enough to talk religion -_-

 

TMW you finally get to read something a friend has written and you're immediately amazed by how different their style is from your own. I love that sentence structure, and the rhythm it creates is so perfect!

 

TMW you're trying to choose what piece/story to write about for your American Literature class. It has to be written before 1865 by an American author...

I want something interesting, damnit!

 

Edgar Allen Poe. He was writing his short stories long before the Civil War broke out. In fact, he died in 1847, so the Mexican-American War hadn't even broken out yet.

 

Never heard of it before, looks very interesting!

 

Whereas I will ask to touch anyone's hair if it looks interesting or different. I don't give a fuck what colour they are, and think that this might be the case for a lot of people. It's not fetishising, it's just plain old human curiosity and there's no bullet to dodge. It's what took us to the moon and all the remote places on the planet.

Children do it all the time. You can retain that child-like curiosity if you want. Not let it get brow beaten out of you. Retain that desire to explore the world and its people. It can be innocent, and for a lot of the time, I would say it is. Not everyone is a boogie man.

 

I've considered Poe, but every one else in my class is doing their paper on him since he's so well known and "easy."

I was considering writing about Cotton Mather, and his account of the Salem Witch Trials. That maaaay be interesting?

I really do appreciate your suggestion. Do you have any others?

 

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne!

 

The morning of my last Birthday I got into my car and turned on the radio. The very first thing I heard was " Everyday I look in the mirror, all these line on my face getting clearer." It was Dream On by Aerosmith.

 

Ah, Cotton Mather! He does sound like an interesting fellow. From what I remember of him back in college, he was a well-known minister in the Colonial days (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cotton_Mather). His text may be interesting, but I suspect his writing will be dry and clinical about it, as most of them were at the time of course. Out to entertain the masses, he wasn't. xD So, ah, if that's not your thing, forget him. He's not my thing either.

How about The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving? It was published in 1849, and it's considered one of America's most treasured novels from the early years. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Legend_of_Sleepy_Hollow) He also wrote Rip Van Winkle which is about a henpecked husband who retreats to the mountains and goes to sleep...for a really long time. He sleeps through the Revolutionary War and when he gets home, his world is not the same and he has to learn how to adjust to this new life he's found himself in.

There's also The Last of the Mohicans by Cooper in 1826. I recommend not reading Moby Dick by Melville because even though it was published before 1865, it's 95% 'how to be a 19th-century whaler' and 5% actual plot. You're welcome to try if you wish.

If you're up to being appalled at slavery in America, I recommend Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, published in 1852. Fredrick Douglass' Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass published in 1845 will help you better understand the life of Fredrick himself.

If you're up to it, read Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, published in 1855.

 

Nothing personal, right?

 

It was a party, I saw her shape, her eyes, her hair. I stroked her hair, she punched me.

I gathered my yukele, drifted kitchen ways. Exotic creature, leant against kitchen cupboard, tight curls, skin black like something so very black. She kicked me.

Outside and all alone, my tears on the kerbside, she found me, licked my cheek. Long flappy ears and breath as breakfast. I kissed her, she did not flinch. We embraced, walked her home, woof ,woof, woof woof woof xx xx.

 

Relieved to hear the "little" one will likely forgive -- put self in rainboots, yes, RAINBOOTS.

 

Hey Bri, have a hug :]

 

Right back at ya! Semper Fi, mat