Whoa
Well, It's April 12, and it's been a HELL of a long time since I even used this piece of shit! So here we go.
I've found it healthy to jot down what's been going on in my day-to-day activity in my math notebook, but there's a problem. The only fuckin time I use the notebook to write about this activity is during my fuckin math class! In short, I guess I've had some practice in journal entry by hand, now I'm just gonna do the same thing, but I'm gonna type on this piece of shit! So here we go..
April 3, 2008 - The day that may have changed everything.
I met this beautiful African-American girl named Eneka Lashay Finner. We were both at work sometime around the end of March, but up until then I had only been looking at her from a distance, wondering about the cultural advantages of possibly getting to know, hell, even dating, a colored female. She had something different about her than other girls I've "looked" at, and it wasn't just about the physical attractiveness that stirred about the common gawking parts; the boobs, butt, and face, of girls that were different. The difference was in every aspect of her. She gave of this radiant look of wholesomeness, and every outward characteristic of her told me a new story every time I looked her way. Her walk told me of her confidence and ability to succeed in the ugly face of adversity, and her figure combined with this told me of her pride in herself - told me that she thinks, inside, that "If you don't like me how I am, then piss off!" She had some kind of standard, a standard which I've never before seen in a girl like her - a high, but completely fair standard. But perhaps the hook that drew me in to her was the characteristic of her face. Her face told me the most that she was, indeed, a fighter for opportunity, that she would fight at whatever length it took to become successful, proud; better. Her situation in its actuality, I would soon find out, did not differ much from my inward abstract view of her. We exchanged a few words after work some March day, and by the end of the night, we were bowling, talking, laughing, holding hands even. I had to know more about her.
To Be Continued...
I've found it healthy to jot down what's been going on in my day-to-day activity in my math notebook, but there's a problem. The only fuckin time I use the notebook to write about this activity is during my fuckin math class! In short, I guess I've had some practice in journal entry by hand, now I'm just gonna do the same thing, but I'm gonna type on this piece of shit! So here we go..
April 3, 2008 - The day that may have changed everything.
I met this beautiful African-American girl named Eneka Lashay Finner. We were both at work sometime around the end of March, but up until then I had only been looking at her from a distance, wondering about the cultural advantages of possibly getting to know, hell, even dating, a colored female. She had something different about her than other girls I've "looked" at, and it wasn't just about the physical attractiveness that stirred about the common gawking parts; the boobs, butt, and face, of girls that were different. The difference was in every aspect of her. She gave of this radiant look of wholesomeness, and every outward characteristic of her told me a new story every time I looked her way. Her walk told me of her confidence and ability to succeed in the ugly face of adversity, and her figure combined with this told me of her pride in herself - told me that she thinks, inside, that "If you don't like me how I am, then piss off!" She had some kind of standard, a standard which I've never before seen in a girl like her - a high, but completely fair standard. But perhaps the hook that drew me in to her was the characteristic of her face. Her face told me the most that she was, indeed, a fighter for opportunity, that she would fight at whatever length it took to become successful, proud; better. Her situation in its actuality, I would soon find out, did not differ much from my inward abstract view of her. We exchanged a few words after work some March day, and by the end of the night, we were bowling, talking, laughing, holding hands even. I had to know more about her.
To Be Continued...