Before landing on this page, you and I were only separated by a mere three degrees. Now we can be one on the web. That's not the definition of technological singularity but it should be.
With this tumblog, I promise kittens and balls of yarn for the kittens to play with. There will be some making out and a lot of hand-holding. I hope that when you are lonely and lost on the outmost corners of the interweb, you can come here and find yrself and feel the good vibrations. You are special and no one can touch that!
Your Pal Mal
Though I ended up receiving an A for the class in the end, all of the individual assignments I’ve ever received an F for occurred in my 12th grade creative writing class. I took great liberties with the “creative” half of the title and thought this meant we could interpret the assignments somewhat freely. One that I remember fondly was when we had to write a creative non-fiction piece in which I focused on a poop the size of a small fetus my gym class had found in the 3rd floor girl’s bathroom (I guess it got iffy when I made it come to life and follow me home.) My favorite though was when we were assigned to write about a song or musician that had some personal meaning for us: I detailed the East Coast/West Coast rivalry between Biggie Smalls and Tupac, imagining that they really faked their own deaths so that they could escape together and live happily as a couple in middle America. The entire piece was written in verse as back-and-forth love letters from one rapper to the other as they prepared to go into hiding. The above sequence that Alaina found makes me believe my story might have some merit to it and holds as evidence that my 12th grade teacher should rethink his grading policies concerning that specific assignment.
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