But I like hugs….. 😦
We have all been in these situations and judging from my previous post on hugging I can see the world could use some of my advice on what to do if someone tries to hug you! It is true, it happens and it needs to stop. The spreading of germs and unwanted affection is prevalent in today’s society and the forcing of physical interaction back is appalling. Here is what I do in these situations.
My immediate reaction, as I told one commenter today, to being unexpectedly hugged is to put my left arm in front of my chest for protection while stepping back into my attacker. I then ninja flip them and follow up with a one, two spider kick. Now I realize not everyone has been to the Super Hero Academy in Huntsville, Alabama. That’s ok because not everyone is cut out for that life, but anyone can…
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I am a woman and I approve this message.
It’s 4am . And I just finished reading a book with the same title as this post. When I picked it up I thought it would be just another fluffy love-gone-wrong teen/young adult work of fiction, but it wasn’t, at least not totally.
I don’t know how I can gush about this book without giving away spoilers, but trust me when I say that this book will blow your mind- in a good way. Props to Jess Rothenberg for being such an amazing author.
In totally unrelated news, I have just one more week until I pick up my discarded persona as Med student and try to hang on to my sanity.
To make me feel better, I’m going to list all the books I’ve read this summer in the hopes that you guys will read them and also give me book recommendations.
1. The Catastrophic History of You and Me- Jess Rothenberg
2. 17 First Kisses- Rachael Allen
3. Zac and Mia- A.J Betts
4. Anyone But You- Jennifer Crusie
5. Middle School- James Patterson
6. Wedding Night: A Novel- Sophie Kinsella
7. This is Where I leave you- Jonathan Tropper
8. To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before- Jenny Han
9. Orange is The New Black- Piper Kerman
10. Every book written, and co-written by John Green
Honorable mention goes to Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series, Kane Chronicles and the crossover books. I eagerly await the last book in this series in October and I’m already saving up to get my copy of Percy Jackson’s Greek Gods from Book Depository. I feel the need to further elaborate on my obsession with Percy Jackson in another post which I will write soon. Bear in mind that most of the books on this list are in the Teen/Young Adult fiction genre, so check them out at your own risk. 🙂
Peace, Love and Percabeth cookies.
Another one bites the dust
‘Yes, this one definitely did,’ she mutters as she finds his name in her contacts list and deletes it. Step 1 complete.
I’ve got thick skin and an elastic heart
As she leans her head against the bathroom sink willing herself not to cry and also not minding that she’d have to wash her facial scrub off both the sink and her face, she silently agrees. ‘Yes, I do have an elastic heart.’ Fake it till you make it. Sigh.
I’m like a rubber band until you pull too hard, I may snap…..
Sigh. Scarily accurate. The tears come anyway.
You did not break me, I’m still fighting for peace
Peace. Ultimate goal. With water and tears mixing, she finally realized she wasn’t broken, she just suffered a bad fall and that she found peace in knowing that this wasn’t the end; that she could rise and be everything she wanted and more.
He did not define her, she defined herself.
Peace, finally. Mission complete.
This post was inspired partly by my misery and by Sia’s Elastic Heart from her 1000 Forms of Fear album.
Anyway, I’m just glad that I can write again. And the words in bold italics are the lyrics from the song.
Summer is almost over. Boohoo.
Sorry I’m not so eloquent today.
Peace, Love and cute babies.
It was so clear to me,
That it was almost invisible,
I lie across the path waiting,
Just for a chance to be,
A spiderweb trapped on your lashes,
I would trade you my empire for ashes,
But I choke it back,
how much I need love…
– Middle Cyclone – Neko Case.
She stiffened when she saw them, tittering away at the table where she’d been seated a mere ten minutes before. As though wrestled from her control, her body began to move, soles slapping loudly against the marble floor drawing stares from displeased patrons as she wove around their tables, arms flailing at her sides.
“What’s so funny?”
She’d strung the words together in her head to come out on a carpet of casual indifference, but they left her lips in an accusing squawk. The table grew silent and the curtains of freshly preened hair parted to…
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On a lighter note.
You can read the previous edition of Tunde’s letters here
I’m calm, I cook and I clean. I’ve been
stalking following you on Facebook for a while now. I occasionally religiously follow your tweets and your instagram is my instagram. I know you well. See ehn, I will stay with you when you go nuts at that time of the month: you know that time now? Did I mention I cook: I make a mean vegetable soup and my Jollof rice is to die for; my fried rice sucks though, you’d actually die if you ate it. I’m a three-course, three square meal kind of fella. I’d bring you breakfast in bed and even pop bye at your office with brunch sometimes. Ask around, most kids love me. I’m being modest: all kids love me. Yes I’m that brooding guy. I’m ripped. I’m that tall, dark and…
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This has been the topic of the past week of my life.
Okay, so this has been in my drafts for way too long.
I wrote a letter to God when I was 13 or 14 years old and in boarding school. I cannot quite remember the details of the letter. Anyways, I threw the letter to the skies; with the hope that it would somehow get to Heaven. I kid you not, this happened. it really happened. Of course the folded piece of paper did not rise above the roof of my hostel. Somehow, I was sad even though I knew the letter was not going to get to heaven. Still, I hoped.
Depression is a desperate feeling. I do not remember what was bothering me but I know it was mind-shattering; at least to me it was. Why on earth would a seemingly sane person write a letter to God and throw it…
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I’m going to regret this post. I’ve avoided rants on this blog for a number of reasons, among them my great dislike for the word rant. It rubs me the wrong way, especially in its overuse. If the word is a big part of your blog, please don’t take offense. You shouldn’t care what I think. I’m only me. Well, I never imagined my first tirade would be about my sweet, amazing seven-year-old. But if it must, it’s really about myself. Days like this, I’m mystified – in fact, undone – by this beast called parenting. Because I come up short.
I’d just like to stay human as I find myself relegated to a parrot in my home. I tell my boy eight times to do his math. Six times to come here. Seven, to clean up his stuff. By the third repeat, he should hear the aggravation rising…
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