Romance is being with someone whose comfort does not fluctuate, whether or not we are speaking to each other.

What's your definition?
What could possibly be so wrong about children getting married?

I've never read Nobokov's Lolita, nor have I been sexually attracted to children, but I get offended every time a blog/article speaks with disgust about child marriages. As if child-adult marriages are based on the rigid equation:
Adult marrying a child = Perversion.

To have the attacks coming from Muslims hurt even more because they seem to have a blind side to their religion.

[If you want to skip all the fun and go straight to the general overview, click here.]

Let me guess what you're thinking about child marriages, and let me tell you why you're so naive to think that it's all about perversion.

That a child's innocence should be preserved and be considered holy.
Come now, Adults, give me a freaking break and tell me when is the earliest age that a child starts to experience pleasurable sensations around their genitals? At what age are they capable of experiencing orgasm and masturbation? If you're Freudian, it's Pubescence. If you're human, it's 3 years old - ever seen an infant who hangs on to his Willy a lot? It may be asexual behavior, but if he's doing it a lot, you think he's not having much fun there?

That a marriage robs a child from an innocent childhood.
Define Innocence, and I shall show you how unfamiliar you are with children.
  1. How many children are really enjoying their childhood as orphans to the society?
  2. How many are bullied into suicides and massacres and war?
  3. How many are bullied into formal education that they haven't the heart for, or be pawned as their parents' trophy, or neglected in return for toys?
  4. How many are you able to guarantee a child's safety if he/she is left unattended?
Children can survive through the worst human conditions. Being perceived as a wife, honored and kept, could actually lessen a lot of a child's need for social regard.

What we often neglect when we judge against child marriages is that a marriage is supposed to be a secure constitution where the parties involved provide protection and respect for each other.

That an adult who marries a child is pedophile pervert.
Step back a little. A pedophile pervert is someone who forces his/her sexual satisfaction on somebody's expense. The same definition goes for rape.

If we are arguing that child marriages shouldn't be religiously okay, then we have to find out why it was okay in the first place. And in all the religions, raping your wife is not okay.

With women, sex is about security: How safe are her interests had this man been allowed to take control of her body or life? If a grown man is capable of causing the sense of security in a little woman, isn't that enough to drop perversion from his resume?

We don't understand what could be going in the Prophet's mind when he married a 6 years old child, because NOBODY BOTHERS TO GO BEYOND THE AGE ARGUMENT!

OR THE SEX PART!!

But, humor me, do most of you get married just for sex?

That child marriages only occur between an adult and a child. Pah! Romeo and Juliet were 14 and 13 in Shakespearean literature. My great-grandparents were 17 and 14. Madonna had her first sexual intercourse when she was 15. Who else? Ah, yes, the poor Indians.

That it is always better to preserve a child's innocence for as long as possible.
On whose account is that, his parents'? And if he commits the sin of adultery, do you think the parents' aren't the ones to carry the burden?

A child, no matter how childish, once he expresses his sexual orientations, should be considered of marriageable age. He does not, however, cease from becoming his parent's child. Or do you think you are no longer a father, or a mother, once your son is married?

The guardians who allow their children to marry are financially motivated.
When done correctly, a dowry should never be too pricey, especially since marriage has been designed to give security and provision for both parties. But then again, what if the bride is an orphan and nobody is there to care for her?

In our protectiveness to our own children, we ASSUME that EVERY adult involved in child marriages are basically just selling their children into sexual slavery.

We often neglect to take in consideration is that, in some circumstances, marriage becomes the only legitimate reason that a man can be a woman's guardian. Those of you who have been widowed and single-again in their times must know how lonely it is to fend for your self by yourself.

Imagine if you were just a teenage girl/boy going through that kind of loneliness. How big are your chances to come out of it with a clear life purpose?

That a marriage should only be done between responsible and consenting adults.
The texts state that children can be married when they know the difference between what's right and wrong (سن التمميز). Theoretically, that happens even before the onset of puberty, often at 12, or even 9.
  • Have you ever taught in an all-girl junior high school? One word to describe that: Carrie. They're nothing less than the adults they're copying.

General Overview.
The problem between clerics and humans: the lack of middle sense. Fact is, most of us ordinary folks are too awed by the tabloid-factor in religion. We can't reinterpret religion for daily use. Whereas the clerics who study these religions are often too shattered in their perversion, maintaining that image of holiness by claiming and demanding cleanliness of thought within religious context.

The religion I'm affiliated with is based on a book that explicitly discusses the knots and bolts of male-female relationships. It mentions what is incestuous and what is not. It mentions menopause and a man's ability to keep making love even in later age. It even discusses menstruation and kinky.

Which brings us to the bridge I've been trying to build in your Canonized and Victorian-esque doctrine-filled minds: That religion is not inhumanly clean, nor ridiculously vulgar. It's humane. Religion understands/acknowledges/agrees with human nature. It's actually useless if it goes against it.

Heck, if God was the One who installed instincts, He must have been in the know about how these instincts would later effect human behavior. And if religion really was coming from Him, he would have set it as a behavioral frame to how mankind should react to their natural instincts.

Conclusions.
If you've ever been attracted to tabloids for cheap entertainment, it's the same reason why some of us just can't get over the wrong-side of child marriages. People often highlight the most insane parts of a news clip, just to make it even more supportive to their arguments.

Now, I don't think that every child should be married right off, just as much as I don't think that a lot of us should be married at all, considering the irresponsible spouses that we might have become. I do believe though, that religion isn't designed by perverted fools who are desperate for excuses to satiate their hedonist hunger. And I do know that a lot of us are foolish more than often than we might want to admit.

So please, stop calling wolf at every child-adult marriage reported in the news. You're flagging the wrong cause. And you look silly while you're at it.

Wishing you a thoughtful day,


Aren't you sorry you missed my arguments? Click here to return to beginning of post.
If you're vehemently against child marriages, here are the links that'll help you form an argument against what's been written here.
  1. Child Marriage Fact-Sheet. Special courtesy by the UN hypocrites.
  2. ICRW, another bunch of hypocrites, will provide the tool kits and campaign procedures here.
Ain't I just the nicest?

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Gawdayumn!

I've only been single for a year and I've already forgotten what it's like to be in a relationship! If you think that's weird, well let me tell you that I haven't been single since I was 11 years old (with a DragongBallZ Character - Don't laugh! He was tall and tough!), and I thought that writing a definition about romance would be as easy as reciting my pin code.

How wrong I've been!

How could I have forgotten what it was like? [Click here to skip steamy (R~Rated) rant.]

Quick!

Any one of you silly bystanders, get over here and let's be in love. For I have a posting deadline - no, not you, my absent lover, nor you, my forgetful muse, it is not you whom I fervidly long - to meet. Be quick, for compositions and conclusions are degenerating at the speed, of, thought, (punctuate here)


The less I know about you is the better: The deeper the fall, the sharper the plunge. Doesn't matter if you're married or unresponsive to women. Actually, nothing about you really matters, except the fall; for I can be in love for us both.

Isn't that what falling in love is all about: To believe in gut feelings and laugh at common sense?

Isn't that what sexy means: To fall in love with someone you don't know?

How can familiarity, with its weary ordinariness and bland refinery, arouse the senses and inspire the pen/brush/shutter, that having it set off all the alarms can only make every illegitimate craft resulting from it even the more Divine?

When Big Daddy said that worldly matters are limited to filling the gut and what's underneath it, did he also mean that nothing else matters?

Let's just cover the fact that my creative juice is on drought since my crotch has been barred to supply any. Without sexuality, I ain't a woman no more. I have been reduced to normalcy; becoming that woman whom I have always brutally scorned for her politeness and patience against whimsical destinies and wanton for desire.

Yes?

Forgetting what it was like to be in a relationship did cause a couple of changes: I've picked up rural Javanese into my collection of languages, my relationship with my mother picked up, and this blog seems to pick up on readers.

Can you see why I think that marriage and monogamy is overrated?

What are you saying, woman?

I'm saying that romance is not restricted to the couples. Not that all couples enjoy romance on a daily basis, I might as well add. I'm saying that romance is merely a state of mind, and that anyone who capable of being happy can be romantic. That being single is just as romantic as being in a relationship; since you are blessed with the freedom to hold the remote, surf the web for days, write volumes of poetic crap - uninterrupted.

And the first step towards romance is Gratitude: The ability to enjoy and accept your life as it is. As it has been. As it'll be.

I've always thought that if someone is unhappy on their own, the presence of a partner would only spread that unhappiness. If you can't enjoy your meals alone, or the little money that you have, or the nagging family that you're born into, having someone to share it all with wouldn't add or lessen your misery. It'll only distract you from it...and only for as long that the relationship is still fresh. Give any relationship a couple of years for familiarity to take form in your relationship, and it'll be the same miserably rainy day all over again.

Except that this time you'll double the misery by having your significant other echoing your contempt.

Are you saying that Romeo was an idiot to kill himself for Juliet?
Romance isn't something that is expected to happen. Romance is something that could be happening right now, as I sit here writing this to you, while at the same time being ravaged by gawddayumn six-legged tropical demons mosquitoes. Romance is in how we look at ourselves, our work and act of worship, and - of course - our everyday relationship with the people around us. Romance is a daily decision to make: Whom are you going to love today?

Who else can you be romantic with?

I write letters to my mother and friends. I collect stories to entertain my loved ones, so that when I meet them I can make them laugh or maybe we can learn something from each other. We kiss at the beginning of a meeting, and separate with: "I love you, and I'll see you soon," instead of goodbyes.

Isn't all of that romantic? Isn't it a blessing to realize that romance is not limited to just one significant person, but to all who share that space in your heart, making it bigger and warmer as they gather there?

I have a feeling that bitter and selfish people can't be romantic, simply because they are stingy with love. Because only love could grow in size and capacity, by giving out more to others.

Don't you think? Share with me. Tell me what "ordinary" behavior you consider romantic? And, how about that for a romantic post?



PS: Wishing you a loving day.
About the Romantic Series:
Going completely off track on Murtadha's question about romance, I came up with a series of posts on romance. This is the first part. Hold your gag-reflex for couple of days; there're two more coming. Enjoy the ride.


Romance is a transcendental state that married and dating couples yearn to achieve with each other. It can't happen if you're weighed down with everyday crap, much less serious issues. That's why before going into definitions and examples, we have some clutter to clear.

Distrust
The sustainability of ANY relationship has got to stand on trust. And a lot of it, too. To be trustworthy, you got to have a clear conscience. To able to trust others, you need time.

How long does it take for you to start worrying about your partner's loyalty when the two of you are physically separated? Just a day? That's not good sign, try giving each other some growing up time; chances are you're not of legal drinking or driving age yet.

How about a week? Take your time and think about it.
The longer it took for you to figure out the answer is the less trust have for your partner. If that's the case, place smaller investments in your relationship; because obviously one of you is not ready for it yet.

Okay, so what if you start worrying only after a month of absence? In that case, Darling, it's not abundance of trust that you have for your partner. It's the next clutter.

Negligence
I know a guy who showers his girlfriend with gifts and attention, calls her the most endearing terms and as often as she wants, worships the ground she walks on, and then he puts his phone on silence every time his wife calls.

Dude, grow up.

First of all, there is a clear difference between cheating and being in a/n open/polyandrous/polygamous/polyamorous marriage: the latter only occurs between consenting partners, who are actively involved in deciding upon where the relationship is going before someone tries on a new lover/wife/husband/orgy partner.

Secondly, I get that we're humans and are susceptible to seduction, but even THAT speaks graphic volumes about us and our relationships.

A person who is easily seduced is either:
  • Lacks respect for their partner

  • Lacks respect from their partner

  • Has been sitting on a pedestal for too long that they take their partners for granted.
Which brings us to the next clutter.

Codependence
The first two clutters occur when one of the partners is outside of their relationship. Codependence is the opposite of both: when one of the partners cannot look any other way.

A codependent partner doesn't usually have a normal social life. Their significant other is their only friend and social-scene. And everything they do is for their partner's sake. Which is popularly stated in love songs, but is just plain pathetic after a while.

Being in love is not an excuse to shut off your friends and family. And if your partner expect do so, you should be aware that you're driving yourself into a abusive relationship.

Abuse
Abuse can be physical, psychological, and emotional. Abuse encompasses all of the clutters above, then tweaks it into a forceful and rigid control. Abuse is not genetic, but it is genealogical: abusive couples become parents to abused and abusive children. In abusive relationships, you don't worry about romance, your worry about survival.

I have only suggestion to anyone in this kind of relationship: Get Out.

Share:
If you're single, you must've been guilty with (or violated by) one (or all) of the clutters up there. Which one was it? Or was there something else? Tell me what dropped the axe on your relationship; what made either one of you to break it up.
If you're in a relationship, well, you're on the wrong blog! Haha. Just kidding. Seriously, I do have a question for you: How did you know that this was the one?
My friend, a gifted card reader and fellow spiritualist shaman, taught me something about money.


I went to the photocopyist the other day, and being the bigmouth that I am, I mentioned my line of work to the kiosk owner. She immediately asked for a quick session.

Right in the kiosk? In the market?

I'll ignore that. Stop giggling. And stop making faces at me too. Where was I? Right, so when I was done, she insisted on paying for the 15-minute massage, and I refused, because I thought..

I think that generosity is something, and what you're doing is naive (and a bit stupid).

Excuse me?

I understand the longing to help. I also know that helping others takes a toll on the helper.

I have the Lord as my source of strength.

I get that. In humanitarian services, it's should never be about the money; because you can't perform well if money was the main incentive. The thing is, it's not the massage that she's paying for, but her freedom. She needed to give you money – or any form of payment – for closure. Doing your job based on kindness doesn't mean that she should take it for granted.

That sounds a little scary. I'm afraid to lose my ideals. What makes me any different from profiteers or swindlers?

Getting paid actually maintains your ideals. It maintains your objectivity and professionalism. The thing that sets you apart from swindlers is not the payment, but the quality of your work; the effectiveness in making a difference. Your clients' willingness to pay - without you even asking for it - is one way to know that you're worth it.

And if I become greedy and start losing my ideals?

That's when you stop worrying about helping others, and it's not so bad because it's a different kind of freedom too.

I don't want to lose myself like that.

Somehow, I don't think you will. And even if you do lose your way a little, I'll help you find it again.

Promise?

Only if you ask, love. As long that you ask.


On the same line of thought, I found:
  1. Why unmaterialistic folk should want to be rich.

  2. Why sales patter suck.

Share: How much money is enough? How much financial value do you put on your time and work? If there's no money in your work, what keeps you going everyday?
Who, being loved, is poor? ~ Oscar Wilde


Hi,

Hning is currently too busy attending her mother's exhibition in Jakarta.

So since you're not there to tell her about my misdemeanor here or to show support, I'm say it to you on her behalf - and probably against her better judgment.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Love,
Teddy.

Valentine's Card by ~Vinn-bonzai on deviantART

"..All that I am, my mother made me.." – John Quincy Adams
It's my mother's 51st birthday today.

More than grateful to my grandmother for giving birth to her,

More than grateful that my relationship with her has finally patched up after nearly two decades of cross-generational misunderstandings,

More than grateful that my mother has been my guiding light, my sources of strength and generosity, my reason to exist,

I'm grateful that the Lord's Benevolence has given both of us the time to enjoy each other's presence in this life, and the hopeful courage in facing the after.

I wish for nothing more than for my mother's wellness.

Selamat Ulang Tahun, Ibu.

Love,
Your Truant Firstborn
Dear Reader,

I'm lonesome in Jakarta. And I think my family are vampires.
  • My mother's here from Jeddah; she's busy designing Umrah packages for the exhibition.

  • My aunt Myra's here from Bali; she's busy creating boxes for the rosaries that she's gonna sell in the exhibition.

  • My Uncle Arie doesn't work here, but when he's around, the grownups would start vehement conversations about their relatives and relatives' former spouses.

We live in the same house but follow different time zones: these loud Batak-Maduranese-descendants (as loud as their tribal ancestors) are robust with activity when it's time for me go to stuff my ears with pillows, and they are dead asleep when I have to tiptoe around the house - in broad daylight.

Hence the suspicion that they're vampires.

Want to know my actual contribution to the exhibition?
Since the quiet manservant (mentioned here) is on sick-leave, and everyone else is busy with important causes, I'm left with the unwashed dishes and taking the trash out for a walk and preserving the house from turning into a complete shipwreck.

Humbling is to realize (again and again) that, against the shiny cosmopolitan bling, I'm a just an invisible fairy from an obscure village. A nawbawdy. I suddenly realize how it feels to be an only child, an adolescent and a nobody all at the same time.

I'm homesick. I miss being in Big Daddy's home, with just the two of us living there in the evenings, complementing each other so well that we rarely need to talk. I miss not being interrupted. I miss not needing my voice to validate my existence.

I love my family. I just love them more when I miss them.

Isn't it tragic in the presence of loved ones, it's conversing with you that I miss the most? Ever felt like a wallpaper amongst your closest kin? How did you manage not drowing yourself in booze?
This post parades a tent on Carnival of Family Life, March 2009.

My grandmother kept an obscure book, that my uncle Arie accidentally read and retold to me when he came across Darah: Hers, coinciding with Jeweira's post on whether women are easier to please in the beds of wealthier men.


A Polynesian man cannot marry until he knows how to please a woman in bed by coming under the tutelage of (and sexually satisfying) an elderly woman (brief and ever politely hinted here).

Now, before you decide on moving to Polynesia, mon cher, think about these issues concerning the health of your hip area and backbone:

1. Older women are, you know, older. And these are Polynesians we're talking about, not Diane Keaton or Julie Andrews. Most of them are (still) animists, and hold pig blood sacred, and ate people sometimes. Need I say more?

2. Older women are so much harder to please than hormone-driven younger ones. It's not just their skin that's weathered to leather, but so have their hearts and minds. You cannot woo – much less sexually arouse – an older woman with the regular junk, but with a lot of sweat. Both in and outside the bedroom.

3. Older women, by chance, could have had other students in their time, and if you've read Marquez or Coelho, you might have noticed how intimidating a woman's experience is for Junior to stand up to. Pun intended.

Generally speaking, happy parents make happy children. Since the duration of an intercourse relies on the duration of penile function, it becomes a serious matter to tackle or at least learn ways to work around it when it's dysfunctional.

How some parents could still manage to "do the deed" while they're pissed with each other is beside the point.

So it's not hard to assume how a generation of unhappy and uptight baby-boomers came after the war, consuming much of civilization's happy buttons with vicious capitalism, communism or Wahhabism. Especially, as quoted here, since a healthy relationships with one consistent partner more important than money.

Jealousy in romance is like salt in food. A little can enhance the savor, but too much can spoil the pleasure and, under certain circumstances, can be life-threatening. ~Maya Angelou

Jealousy is unpleasant. It stands on fear. It's related to hate and anger and fat. If you keep it around, it will infect your soul, effecting everything else in your world. Food becomes tasteless, your will get sickly, and even colors look gloomier (research found that unpleasant emotions tighten the veins around the eyes, hence effecting colors).

So, when jealousy strikes, what do you do?

First of all, acknowledge it.

You might have been accused obsessive possessiveness. Or maybe it's just PMS. Either ways, find out when, where, how, why and with whom does it feel bad? As a rule, jealousy occurs only when there are three people involved. And it rarely happens to people who are assured of themselves. The cool and honest don't get jealous.

Next, fix it.

Arabic is a masculine language, so it's usually the guys who throw the word "jealous" around. Whereas in English, jealousy is more of a feminine attribute. Either ways, jealousy doesn't get fixed when you tell your beloved not to work in an egalitarian office environment, and keeping a 24/7 watch is exhausting to both of you.

So here's what I'm suggesting instead:

1. Join them
Jealousy is an awkward homage which inferiority renders to merit. ~Mme. de Puixieux

What is it about the third person that bothers you so much? Let's say you hate his fluency in French. You probably can say "Merci" and "Bonsoir!", but that's about it. Here's a good time to start improving. Start with saying "tu me manques tellement", followed by a French kiss and prolonged foreplay. You get where I'm going? Self-improvement is the word, mate! Turn heads by beating your rivals in their element.

Too complicated? Try the next solution.

2. Beat them
Calamities are of two kinds: misfortune to ourselves, and good fortune to others. ~Ambrose Bierce

So maybe linguistic eloquence has never been your element, and you'd rather try something else to impress. Great! What are you good at? Making a kickass steak? Massage? Or both at the same time? Scrub on those talents and let them shine. Then show it off. Some things just can't be changed, and it's more convenient to celebrate your assets than splurging on crash course in French Grammar.

But if neither of the above works...

3. Drop them
In jealousy there is more self-love than love. ~ François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld

...and you're out of tricks but your beloved is still adamant in looking the other way? You know what, maybe you've been swimming in the wrong pond. Maybe you've been aiming too high or too low. Maybe, just maybe, you guys aren't supposed to spend so much effort on trying to accept each other, rather than accepting your individualities first.

Gather yourself and your friends, then shut your mouth and move out before you waste more time on a bullheaded jackass. Better now than later, before you get stuck with kids in between. And if kids are the actual reason why you can't move out, then focus on them and preserve your dignity with charity and kindness.

For your own sake.

The underline is, if you're jealous a lot, either that you're not trying hard enough, or that you can't see your own qualities or that you've attached your heart on the wrong person.

Simple, na?

Now tell me, when was the last time you were jealous? What did you do?

As I was carelessly mentioning in my previous post, about good blogs and how good women are involuntarily sad when they talk about their men. Us women tend to get tangled between extremes: Men are either too godly or too dastardly on the tongues of women. And the saddest are the kind with their men out of reach.

This 4.5 years old had a conversation with her mother about the two most important men in her life.
“Is Jesus coming today?”

Ummm…probably not. Why?

“When Jesus comes, Daddy will come with him. I want Jesus to come so Daddy can come back.”

So, yeah, it's nice to know that women can talk about heartbreak and death without turning it into a muck of mush for a change. Dignity should always be preserved even in worst case scenarios. Like in the death of a husband, a father or a cat. Not that death can't be funny, we might add.
Ella, what happened to Snickers? (Snickers is/was Robyn’s old cat who was recently put down)

“He died. He’s in heaven.”

With Daddy?

“No, he’s in kitty heaven. With Kitty Jesus.”
And funny is when men talk about women with an endearing effort to understand the women. Starting with the Wirst Foman.
Sometimes I try to put myself in Eve’s shoes: there she was, in the middle of paradise with no clothes on (ok, forget for a second that the Biblical nudity may represent innocence of mind, total openness, no taboos, no malice); unshaved legs and armpits; no manicure kit; no shoes (good grief!); and stuck to a guy (who, according to the evolutionists) was ugly as hell – what a turn off.
So maybe a guy's relationship with his mother can give indication to what kind of relationship he might have with his wife. A guy who is in conversational terms with his mother is probably a monogamist, too. Where else might a guy learn to love and respect women if not in the hands of his own mother? After all, Knowledge without wisdom and understanding is sheer arrogance and corruption, and the love between a mother and her children is the best place where this might start.

I know this for a fact from the way my brothers handle their women. I know the grief that my father has been to our mother has made my brothers gentlemanly - to some extent - with their women.

Sure, my brothers' ex-girlfriends might want take turns flaming my comment box, and that's fine by me. Former lovers tend to flame comment boxes for the very reason they did or did not make it to altar. And that's going to be another post about jealousy. For later.

Which got me into wondering, do you Google your former loved ones? What do you do after that? Do you just lurk around their sites, or do you also join in some sort of passive-aggressive behavior?

It's February again, Valentine's month. Let the weight of that sink in before you proceed with the rest of this post, and before you flame my comment box for ever daring to mention it here, know that I probably agree with you, that Valentine is sickening kind of sweetness.

And since I understand blogging more than long-term commitments, here's a blog I've recently committed my heart to.

Actually, I found a lot of good blogs on "Blogitzer" Award Nomination List. An equivalent to Academy Award for "Best Blog Writing".

Wait. They actually acknowledge the effort? So blogging is not just about selling, or sickening ego-analysis, or pseudo-Passive aggression, or life hacking, traffic, comments, or SEO? You can actually just write well on a blog? Yes, and this lawyer does it well.


TheUnderBlawg is a closeted Public Defender with a heart too big to fit his office or case. So his articles are sequined with the kind of details that is just right to haunt.

For example, Mopping, is a story about cleaning up after the death of a beloved. Right when words seem to mark on all of your senses. You hear, and see and feel time exchanging hands - yes, just like coins - from the people described in this story, to the hands of Infinitum.
It was nothing. It was just a little thing, that was all.

But the way that he looked at her when he saw it. A look of fear and sadness. The sort of look only an old person can get, a person too old to think this can’t be happening to me, but still young enough to want to defy it, to be angry because though they understood it would come, they weren’t ready.
So ordinary objects and behaviors frame his stories. A mop. A walk at night. A hug. Put any of the previous ordinariness in extraordinary context. Voila.

Want proof? Try taking a shower inside a prison.
They let you shower once a week. They lock you in a room with six other guys and leave you there. Not everything that happens in those showers is right. Sometimes it’s agreed to, sometimes it ain’t. Either way, it ain’t none of your business. Everybody’s got to survive on their own. That’s just how it is.
I could drag on about this blog. Who knows, maybe the writer really is a nice guy. But I've had enough of groveling to men, as much as I loved them. I was raised in a country that did that on a constitutional basis. So it's okay to stop talking about him here.

So tell me, what well-written blog have you been reading lately?
 
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