What's something you did when you were younger that you still haven't confessed to your parents?
Submitted by Bizz.
Neither of my parents know that I was raped.
What are your top 5 books of 2006?
5. Cheese Monkeys by Chip Kidd
4. Dream Boy the author escapes me.
3. Male Model by Dave Benbow
2. The Last Herald Mage trilogy by Mercedes Lackey
1. Brightly Burning by Mercedes Lackey
Tell me that it's normal to be this depressed about a holiday I don't even believe in. Tell me that it doesn't look like I have an infectious snake bite on the end of my finger everytime I take the inch-worth of bandages off it. Tell me things will look better in the morning. Tell me that the pink in my hair brings out my eyes. Tell me that the things my mother says about me aren't true. Tell me that you'll always see me as your best friend. Tell me I'm the best twin you could have asked for, even in my more self-destructive moments. Tell me it's okay to cry over spilled milk sometimes. Tell me I clean up nice. Tell me it's okay that I sometimes crawl into your bed in the middle of the night. Tell me that I don't have to grow up. Tell me that I'll have full use and feeling of my finger again. Tell me that my knee only hurts because it's become a magical weather-foretelling knee. Tell me that I don't disappoint you. Tell me that you'll love me forever. Tell me that you and I can die together, because it would hurt too much for either of us to lose the other. Tell me that you hate to see me sad.
Tell me every lie I've ever wanted to hear.
And, if you're in the right mood and have enough time... could some of them be true?
What's one thing you regret not doing?
Submitted by Mr. Nice.
Wow, I have to narrow this down to just one thing? There are already so many things I've done and not done wrong... I guess, if it's just one thing, then I regret not staying at school. I loved it there, but I let my mother get to me... plant that seed of doubt than managed to crush every bit of excitement right out of me until I was begging my father to let me come home. I was doing so well there for a while. I never should have tried to make amends with her. I would be a lot better off. Oh well. Live and learn. I know that right now, still, she has way too much power over me. I still want her to accept me and to want me to be happy; but she doesn't. And she won't. And I know that. But I still want her to. And until I get past that, I won't see her; I won't speak to her; and I sure as hell won't tell her what I'm planning and/or doing with my life until then. I can't let her hold sway over my decisions anymore.
What song gives you the most holiday cheer?
Submitted by Roxy.
I actually don't like Christmas...at all. There are a couple Christmas songs that I do like, though... most of them are the satirical Christmas songs, like, "I want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" or "Chipmunks Roasting Over an Open Fire"... the only one that's not a joke that I like, is "Christmas Shoes".... song can bring me to tears everytime I hear it. But, Bob Rivers is a genius. I love his joking songs about the holiday... they make me laugh... (Oh! Oh! We can't forget about "There's Something Stuck Up In The Chimney"!)... and during a season where those damn hypocritical christians are chasing everyone around, trying to convert them to their guilt-ridden religion and consumer-driven lives, I need something to smile about.
What's the most klutzy thing you've ever done?
Submitted by Jecka.
Oh, way too many... Let's see here... we'll start with the most recent... I managed to twist my ankle while sleeping. Then, I've walked into walls, doors, chairs, shelves, beds, and other people... I once smacked my forehead too hard and slammed my head into the wall behind me. I dropped a stack of sandwich plates on my head at work because I forgot how short I was... I stabbed myself in the wrist by accident the other day while trying to cut celery, poked myself in the eye with my HP wand on Halloween last year, fell backwards off a ladder while reaching for onions on the top shelf. And, last, but certainly not least (or all of them, for that matter, it would take too long to list), I got my tie caught in the door of my friend's car on Homecoming night and did a very cartoonish 'trying to walk further than the leash with stretch,' right in front of the dance.
Have you ever Googled your own name? How did you feel about the results?
Submitted by elen.
I was rather disappointed. My last name is also the name of a french meat spread/paste, so I got a lot of comments about that, they didn't have anyone that matched my full name (minus the middle name), and, yeah... Disappointed was the best word. Oh well. I guess it pays to have a rather unique name.... or not. I don't know. I kinda wanted someone famous to have my name.
To whom it may concern,
There comes a point in everyone's life where we realize that we are nothing but a product of our upbringing. And that's where things get messy.
I don't know you, mom. I don't know about your childhood or the way your family did things. All I know is how you did things with us. And in that regard lies the issues at hand.
In the past year, I have made a conscious effort to distance myself from you. Repeatedly over the years, I requested simple things of you: look me in the eye, don't belittle me or my dreams--at least to my face, and treat me as though I was not a mistake. I will only allow someone to tear me down for so long. Mistake or not, I am your child. I deserved love, patience, and understanding. Having found you incapable of such things, I have severed our relationship indefinitely.
As you may have realized by now, then, this letter is not for you and you will most likely never lay eyes upon it. This letter is for me. You hurt me and have left scars that may never heal. This letter is to help me move past those hurts and become the person that I want to be--because of and despite you.
I lived with you for eighteen long years. During that time, I was made out to be an outcast among my siblings, a burden to my mother, a caretaker/maid to the household, and a shame upon my family. I watched you fight with and drive away the only decent man you've known and the only family member who treated me as blood and not a street urchin. You sent my father--a man I love and respect--away and replaced him with a string of losers and one-night-stands that fluttered into a home that he bought and destroyed what little family we had left. You drove me again and again to the brink of suicide--leaving me a sobbing, bleeding mess on my bedroom floor, and not once did you pull me away from that ledge. Not once did I look at you and discern even the slightest care of whether I lived or died.
Mom, you spent years of both of our lives setting me up and readying me for failure. Two decades you spent, filling my head with self-doubt, self-loathing, and a neverending need to prove to you that my life is worth something.
I've realized some things during my hiatus from you. Things that should have been obvious to me from the beginning, but I was a stupid kid--so desperate for love and affection that I blinded myself to the truth.
1. For reasons unknown to me, I am not the child you wanted or expected.
2. No matter how hard I work or what I work at, I will never please you.
3. My life is worth living because I make it that way--you have no say.
4. I will live my life in a way that makes me happy, not you. You had your childhood and life--this one is mine.
5. I am who I am, and I will be this way tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I am neither ashamed of this
or unhappy with this. I am proud of who I am and the choices I have made.
While you stood laughing, mother, I was beaten, abused, molested, and ridiculed. And you knew. You should have helped me. Whether you believe it or not, you were supposed to protect me. I should have felt safe coming to you; not afraid.
I guess the worst part about this is that I don't hate you. The worst part is that sometimes, when I drive by the house I grew up in--the place you live--I feel the urge to stop. To give you one more chance.
But I don't. And I won't.
I've gotten better without you. Everyday I find more things to smile about, and everyday my past seems more and more like someone else's. I've come a long way since our paths parted, and even though I've got a long way to go, with every step I feel better, more confident, and happier.
I hope that one day you'll be able to be happy for me--that I found happiness and success.
Sincerely,
Le petit souris.
Okay, so, I got this book out of the library today called Take Joy and it's about really getting back to loving your writing... and I got to this section where the author is talking about First Readers, and this exerpt cracked me up so much that I just had to share:
"Years ago as a First Reader, I discovered a thousand page opus called The Breeze Goes On, which took place during the War of 1812, with a heroine named Charlotte O'Meara who was being romanced by the Tarkinton twins and a rumrunner called Reed Cutler. It was a serious paragraph-for-paragraph, chapter-by-chapter paraphrase of Gone With The Wind. I also read an ABC book that contained no piectures and only the letters A, AB, ABC, ABCD, etc. I also read a child's picture book about Peter Penis and Vicky Vagina and their friend Sammy Sperm. And a novel about a librarian who had an affair with a dog and tried to abort their child using a hanger in the bathroom of the library. Those at least were written in passable English and not by certifiable paranoid schizophrenics. Except, perhaps, for the alphabet book."
Now, I'm a twisted person, but I was laughing to tears about the whole librarian thing... I don't know, I'm just a sick puppy, I guess.
The sun was shining down on the freshly cut lawn. Green blades swayed gently in the cool spring breeze. Out the door of a large white house on the corner bounded a little girl and her younger brother. The barefooted siblings nearly flew across the open-air porch and down those painted white steps, following the cobblestone path halfway through their yard before veering off into the grass, where they twirled and fell onto their backs in a fit of giggles, staring up at the endless blue sky. No. Oh god, no. Please, not this again. Don’t make me watch! The little girl smoothed out her white sundress, pulling at the orange sash a little, then squinting up at the sky. “There are no clouds today, Nix.” “Daddy says there aren’t ever clouds on your birthday. He says mommy doesn’t want anything blocking the sunlight from you,” her brother answered matter-of-factly. “Oh. Well, a couple clouds wouldn’t be bad. Then the sun wouldn’t hurt my eyes.” The little boy shrugged. “Sarah, how old are you?” The blond haired girl rolled over and up onto her knees, kneeling beside the little boy and holding up seven fingers. “I’m this many. Can you count it?” Nix pointed to each finger in turn, counting them out for her. When he finished, she beamed down at him. Wake up! WAKE UP! Stop, please… “Phoenix! Sarah! Lunch in ten minutes!” A bulky, shadowy figure filled the doorframe of the house to call to the children, then disappeared again. Sarah jumped to her feet, reaching down to grab her little brother’s hands and hauling him to his feet. “Come on, Nix, play with me! Let’s spin!” Phoenix laughed a little and nodded to her. “All right.” The children grabbed each other’s hands, clutching tightly to each other and starting to spin. Sarah started laughing as the wind created by the two of them blew the hair into her face. Stop now. Please, be merciful. Let me remember like this. Let it stop. I don’t want to know what happens next.
