Posted on No Comments on Writers’ Insomnia

Writers’ Insomnia

I write best late at night. Maybe it’s the silence that forces me and my thoughts to spend some quality time together; a silence that is interrupted only by my fidgeting, or the clacking of the keyboard or a pencil scrawling across paper, or the lack of people bothering or observing or disturbing with their mere presence. Somewhen between midnight and 3am on a good night, when everyone else is sound asleep, my mind is full of ideas, keeping me from sleep and forcing me awake until I let them out.  My suspicious mind thinks that anyone who happens to hear me probably assumes I’m watching porn or doing something naughty, but I can’t help it. The urge burns me with fervor most foul; it is an itch I must scratch. As to whether it’s any good in the morning, however, is an entirely different kettle of fish.
Posted on 1 Comment on Flash Fiction Friday #29 Curlylocks

Flash Fiction Friday #29 Curlylocks

Flash Fiction Fridays

Trigger: (starter) as much/little as





As much as it may surprise some, the way I wear my hair now a days did not start off as this huge social statement many take it to be. I mean, two and a half years ago when I decided to go free and be happy to be nappy with the hair one Carnival Friday for school, I didn’t really have anything on my mind other than, “Hmm, what the hell can I do with my hair that isn’t a bun or 2 ponytails or spending 3 hours with a flat iron?”
 My memory is a little hazy, but I remember a lot of people being intrigued, and I’m sure there were some “what d hell goin’ on wit’ she boy?”s, and I certainly remember a friend saying that a friend of hers found my look “funky”, (though to be honest I was also going through my tie faze and it may have been a lot for him to handle), but it didn’t matter. I liked the hair, I liked how I didn’t have to fight up with it and I liked how it framed my face. And thus, the Powerpuff Girls were born! Not really, but my signature look certainly was.
 A couple months later I cut my hair to the shortest it had ever been, (chop chop chop, PIECES), and didn’t look back. I perfected the various formulae for product that would provide me with maximum curl and minimum frizz and my flat iron took a back seat. The hair with its bigness and puffyness and its notice-me-ness began to grow on people, and the naysayers became less frequent, (though as they say, those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind, and my close friends always liked my wild look), and people began to associate me with the hair.
 Doh feel I forget I called my hair a social statement however. I like to joke about how I don’t let Babylon dictate the style I choose to wear my locks, but like the best jokes, there is truth in my jest. I don’t need to straighten it if I don’t want to. I still do different things with my hair from time to time, but I always remember that straight isn’t the only “nice hair”, natural and curly is beautiful too. There are those who disagree still, I know, but I can’t say that I care, honestly. Who vex loss. Talk done.