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100×365 #1: Karen Stasko
I wanted to be you and I wanted to get as far away as possible away from you. In 7th grade you called me a baby, knowing that the word would shoot straight into my soul leaving me shattered into a million pieces of shameful skipped-a-grade not-quite puberty. You knew my vulnerabilities and you used them to wound me over and over, but I couldn’t stay away. In 8th grade you were my 5th period best pal only because acting like you liked me kept you safe from the 2nd chair flute who would never challenge her 1st chair friend. [UPDATE: Edited to add that clearly I am not talking…
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The Pressure Of Self Is A Weighty Thing
Not being the sort to wait things out too much before jumping in, I’ve been throwing around links to this blog with abandon this week as if this newborn blog is something long-established. The piece I’m filling in inside my head but that’s clearly missing to the public is that I HAD a blog. I am used to referring to it. I took it down months ago but I’ve missed having one as an outlet for self-expression, the creation of a public extension of my private persona. What I’ve created, then, from this odd missing link, is this: 1. A need to explain. Witness this self-evident post. 2. Pressure! I…