My mom continued her tradition of gifting me a rocker chick autobiography for Christmas. Yay, mom!

Face It
My mom continued her tradition of gifting me a rocker chick autobiography for Christmas. Yay, mom!
Face It
“Do not stop thinking of life as an adventure. You have no security unless you can think bravely, excitingly, imaginatively; unless you can choose a challenge instead of competence.”–Eleanor Roosevelt (The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt)
Shared for the last nine words of the quote.
Eleanor Roosevelt (20 July 1933).
Today’s Daily Prompt-Good Tidings:
Present-day you meets 10-years-ago you for coffee. Share with your younger self the most challenging thing, the most rewarding thing, and the most fun thing they have to look forward to.
This is my contribution!
Positively Dickensian
Two women sit across from each other at a table in a coffee shop. They take their tea the same way: Earl Grey, strong, two sugars. Turbinado, please, stirred clock-wise.
Their conversation goes like this:
2004 Mae: Hey, why are we blonde? We haven’t been blonde since we were seven, and we both know that was way more than ten years ago–yours or mine.
2014 Mae: We’ve met before, right? We’ve been radically altering our hair every few months since we were twelve. Some things don’t change. Wait until you get to 2012. That was a great hair year for us, even if we got sick of the Miley comparisons.
2004: Who is Miley?
2014: Never mind. We’ll know soon enough, and we’ll wish we didn’t.
2004: Oh, okay. Anyhoo, this is kind of weird. Why are we here, again? Do you have big news for me? Because I’m not sure that I want to know. Even if it doesn’t suck.
2014: Good, because I didn’t plan on giving you specifics, anyway.
2004: Well, what if I changed my mind? What if I want to know now?
2014: Too fucking bad. It doesn’t work that way.
2004: Did you bend time and space just to have tea with me? Honestly, that is kind of creepy. Is this some next-level Miss Havisham shit? Future me is so bereft that she finds a way to come back to a point when life was better? Oh, my god. Do I really turn into Miss Havisham? Seriously, is my future that pitiful?
2014: I’m not wearing a tattered wedding dress, am I? So, no. I forgot how kooky we can be.
2004: Wait. Wait! Do I-do we-become…normal? I’d rather be Miss Havisham.
2014: Haha, no! We’re amusing, too!
2004: Hey, don’t take credit for that line! I said it, so I am the amusing one. Continue reading
I’ll be writing about the lovely Fay Wray.
My morning read:
Change Lobsters-and Dance by Lilli Palmer
Confessions of an English Opium-Eater by Thomas De Quincey
Cover of the Second Edition of Confessions of an English Opium Eater, 1823
English: Photograph of the actress Katharine Hepburn in the 1932 play The Warrior’s Husband. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
someone as amazing as you were. Really, though, what choice do I have? What else is there? Rebel, nonpareil, maverick? Nonconformist, idol, icon? Legend, paragon, nonesuch? They’re all too pale, weak, humourless. You were too kick-ass to be so neatly boxed-in, anyway. Now let’s get to business. Continue reading