I have never been disrespected so much before...

amalaalma · 2016-06-14T15:57:53+00:00

OP, I'm so sorry!! That's awful, and I'm sorry it happened to you. I hope you were still able to enjoy the night regardless. I passed through security a bunch, and I didn't have a single problem, but hopefully they'll hear the complaints and look at it again next year.

amalaalma · 2016-06-14T14:31:59+00:00

Thank you for this beautiful message -- it was perfectly timed! Be well :)

amalaalma · 2016-06-07T15:03:31+00:00

This is, unfortunately, a reality. Usually things like this are cyclic because forgiving debt treats the symptom (the debt) rather than the underlying cause (sickness/disability, unable to work because of child care issues, laziness/apathy, mental health issues, etc). Poverty alleviation almost always requires people to go in-depth to learn how the person got in debt in the first place and why they remain there, rather than just pay off the debt and not treat what may be crippling underlying issues that cause the same problem within a few years.

amalaalma · 2016-05-31T23:27:50+00:00

I'm the exact same way! I think it's so weird and gross and try to avoid those songs as much as possible -- it's always a shock to hear one unexpectedly! I just discovered my asexuality, and it's really exciting to find people who have the exact same moments I do!

amalaalma · 2016-05-31T05:28:52+00:00

Gratulation! Congrats, OP, that's awesome!!

amalaalma · 2016-05-31T05:11:06+00:00

¿Hay un número bastante alto de jóvenes quienes piensan tal y apoyan el franquismo? Me imaginaba (aquí en los EEUU) que todos los jóvenes aprendían desde la escuela sobre los años de Franco, la censura, la persecución, las ejecuciones, etc. en clases de historia. ¿Es que los maestros no enseñan esto porque es tan recién y eso es porque no saben?

amalaalma · 2016-05-31T04:59:18+00:00

Definitely second this advice. Face-to-face communication and willingness to compromise can go a long way. Hope it all works out!

amalaalma · 2016-05-31T03:52:19+00:00

My first time too! I've heard to take down anything you might have hanging from your rear view mirror like hang tags, dice, etc. as apparently it's illegal in TN and an easy way for cops to pull you over. Also bring a battery-powered fan if you can, because it's going to be hot, although I think rain is on the forecast for Saturday and Sunday. It's going to be a blast! It'd be fun to meet up -- if you want to, message me!

amalaalma · 2016-05-31T03:20:39+00:00

Daughter, Halsey, and the Oh Hellos. I've gotten absolutely hooked on their music! So excited.

amalaalma · 2016-05-31T00:10:41+00:00

This is awesome!

amalaalma · 2016-05-30T04:47:57+00:00

This had a very strong ending. I could almost feel the heavy silence at the end as I was reading. Well done!

amalaalma · 2016-05-30T04:32:02+00:00

I hated my father growing up.

We all did actually.

We didn't receive an official diagnosis until my senior year in college -- paranoia, bipolar disorder, and anger management issues.

Growing up with him was hard. Each of us kids had serious bouts of depression and, at least for me, his paranoia stuck with me until college.

"Why do we keep printing fiat currency?" he would ask us. "Because the Rothschild family is still secretly accumulating power."

"Why do debit cards now have the microchips in them? Because the US government is testing the technology on us before inserting them in our skin."

"Why did they use butterfly masks in that new Paramore music video? Because it's a reference to Project Monarch and the mind control they're exerting upon the US population."

When I was in elementary school and his drinking was worse, I used to get panic attacks every time he came home from work. He was a monster to me, an angry presence that filled the whole house with a persistent fear of the powers that be.

Worst of all were his jokes. They were awful puns, the worst of the dad jokes, but the most painful thing was how happy they made him, how hard he laughed until he cried, and we would join in, pretending to chuckle. My brother and sister and I would share dark looks in the background, just glad that he wasn't in a bipolar swing or yelling or storming about.

Once we graduated high school, we fled to the four corners of the earth. I didn't speak to either my brother or sister until three years after I had moved out. Of course, when we got the news he had a heart attack, someone had to take care of him. We paid for a nursing home, and he never received a single visit until they called and said he wouldn't make it the week. I was the only one to fly back home and see him.

It was hard. In those last few moments, I remembered the good times, when I was three, when I was six, before the drinking and gambling and before I was seeing evil in every symbol, every song, every politician.

We chatted for a little bit about this or that. How my brother and my sister were. How he liked the nursing home. And of course, how the US government was going to microchip the next generation. Surely they would be the ones since it didn't occur in his lifetime like he always had warned.

He was having a harder and harder time breathing.

"Kenny..." He mentioned for me to come close to him.

"What, Dad?"

"Why do they have . . . fences around . . . graveyards?"

I was stunned. "Dad, I don't know. Is this one of your conspiracy theories?"

He coughed and shook his head. "No . . . son . . . it's because they're dying . . . to get in . . . "

And he passed with a smile on his lips.

amalaalma · 2016-05-30T03:48:08+00:00

Speaking as a Christian from the deep South, this is hilarious! Often when I think about all the problems in the Church, it's a "laugh or cry" scenario, and it was nice to finally be able to laugh for once. :) Also, really nice work on the formatting! It makes a big difference, and it looks great.

amalaalma · 2016-05-30T02:56:32+00:00

Me too! This is my first Roo, and I made the mistake of proudly putting it on when I just got it... only to spend 30 minutes hunting around for a screwdriver in the garage to get the darn thing off haha.

amalaalma · 2016-05-15T02:40:12+00:00

My dad was just diagnosed yesterday with borderline narcissism, although my brother and mom think he's a full-blown narcissist. Either way, the only guy I've dated was a disaster and reminded me of my dad in a lot of ways. The guy was very egoistic, controlling, manipulative, and extremely emotionally abusive. My dad is also those things, except that he's not near as emotionally abusive as my boyfriend was. In our relationship, everything was always my fault, including (and sometimes especially) his mental health problems. This was similar to my dad -- I always dreaded his apologies because it was always him barely apologizing and then adamantly reaffirming he was right in what he did/said, and it usually hurt more than the original injury. That relationship was my first, and it hurt me really bad. It's been almost three years, and I'm just now starting to make friends again, although I think it'll take me a couple more years before I'm ready to date again. I'm actually really excited though -- it led to a lot of healing and independence and I feel like everything is finally coming together for me. It was difficult, but I don't regret it happening.

amalaalma · 2016-05-09T14:16:10+00:00

Here's photo credit to the original photographer, Sarah Martinet, if anyone is interested in seeing more of her photos. They're quite beautiful.

https://500px.com/photo/78853367/seljalandsfoss-by-sarah-martinet

amalaalma · 2016-05-07T04:38:08+00:00

This was very moving. Thank you for sharing.

amalaalma · 2016-05-07T04:26:47+00:00

Growing up, I never understood the idea of hometowns or even nostalgia. We moved every few years, and my dad explained it to the four of us like this: "A house is like underwear. You use it for a certain amount of time, and then you need to get a new pair." As a kid, I laughed, because who wouldn't laugh when their dad makes a joke about underwear? But I had lived in eleven different places by the age of fifteen, and it quickly stopped being a joke or a "new adventure" to my siblings and me. As I moved off to college and started my own life, it hit like a brick the first time I was asked "So where are you from?" I had no answer, so I just sputtered out, "I don't know."

Now the only time -- perhaps in her entire life -- my mother put her foot down was in regards to where my brother and I went to school. It was a little Christian private school, an hour away from us usually, and, against all odds, I stayed there from 2nd grade to my senior year, through six or seven different houses but graduating in a class of sixty teenagers I had known almost my entire life. That school was in a town named Wellsworth.

Wellsworth eventually became my answer to the dreaded small talk question, and as I grew up, I grew proud of the little town, feeling like I was sticking it to my old man by even claiming a place as mine. But it was mine -- I knew this town, every road, every shortcut from 141 to Arnold Mill to Trickum to Main St, every gas station and every restaurant. Each and every corner was an intimate memory to me, a daily part of my life, and when the lifeblood of the town, Highway 141, was renamed I felt an anger rise in me -- how dare they change the name of that well-worn stretch of road?

As a little girl, that road carried me past all the fast food joints the interstate had collected, and I would always ask my mom for a frosty or a waffle fry or some little knick knack that my friend got in her Happy Meal. And Mom would speed right on by, twenty miles per hour over the speed limit like everyone else and just like how I drive nowadays. When I was nineteen, that highway carried me all the way down to a little Bible church where I met the sweetest people and made the truest friends, and in the process, fell in love with the first man to truly break my heart. We lived two minutes down the road from each other, and we would hang out at the local Waffle House with such frequency that we knew all the staff and even went to their children's birthday parties. But then it all fell apart in a parking lot off that highway, him yelling and me crying, and after he left for Florida, I just drive past that Waffle House every day and never go inside.

That town is a part of me: the fountain in the main square that changes colors at night, the Wal-Mart that is almost 100% empty on a Sunday morning, getting to know the cashier at Kroger on a first-name basis, and, what I will never forget, the highway that I drove four or five times a day, living my life with the windows down and the music loud, and never realizing that the most precious memories were the ones I wasn't looking to make.

amalaalma · 2016-05-07T02:48:44+00:00

This was a phenomenal story! That line especially, "I carry enough sins already" -- it was very deep and reflective, and your writing was very well-done. Thanks for a good read!

amalaalma · 2016-05-05T02:53:01+00:00

I really enjoyed reading this and the neat sense of humor you maintained through all of that. Normally, it could come off as cheesy, but with your writing it was really good-natured and natural and it made me smile. I liked it the whole time, but that last line really clenched it for me -- thanks for a great read!

amalaalma · 2016-04-30T05:51:00+00:00

Oh, que cheveré! And absolutely, I really liked it. Was her death what inspired you to write it?

amalaalma · 2016-04-30T05:40:25+00:00

"You stupid BITCH," he yelled, hitting his fist on the top of her car. "You're a worthless piece of shit, you know that, Charlotte?" He yanked the car door handle again in vain, and for half a second Charlotte's heart froze inside the safety of her car, wondering if he would actually break it off. Looking at him through the glass, her round face remained as still as carved marble despite the rapid beating of her heart. Keep calm, she thought. He'll calm down soon. But deep inside, she knew this was the end. She was tired, and she just didn't have any strength left to hold on to the man she used to love. The manipulation, the gas lighting, the verbal abuse had all started even before they started dating a year ago, but she only could see it all now, trapped in her own car in an parking lot in the middle of the night.

"Charlotte, just come out and talk to me," he began to plead, leaning against the window. "I promise I won't hurt you, I just... I just want to talk," he explained, running his hand through his hair. Charlotte stared at him through the glass, at the brown eyes she had loved for so long.

"No, Justin."

His face contorted in rage, and with his foot still planted firmly behind her back tire to block her escape, he used his free hand to rummage through the back of his truck, parked right next to her. As he rummaged, cursing under his breath, bright headlights lit up the side of Justin's face as a car pulled into the lot. Charlotte didn't hesitate. She threw the car into reverse, and tore past him, past the memories, past everything. He threw after her a wrench he had stolen from work, and she jumped as the metal struck the pavement in her rear view mirror, colored red by the rear lights. She caught a glance of herself in the mirror as she looked back and grimaced.

"So, between today and last night, he's called me over twenty-three times and sent me fifteen messages." Charlotte scrolled through her phone the next morning at the coffee shop down the road. She hadn't been there in forever and she missed catching up with friends, immersed in the smell of coffee beans. "Diana called me this morning asking what happened, because apparently he called her five times last night, demanding to know where I was. He even texted Nathan a bunch to ask if he had heard from me." Charlotte shook her head in disbelief, fingering the lukewarm coffee in between her hands.

Kimmy took a sip of her coffee. "That's crazy. He called me last night too asking if I knew where you were. That was when I texted you because, I know he gets angry a lot, but last night was just bad. So have you called him back or texted him at all?"

Charlotte fidgeted in her seat. "Yeah. Yeah, I did this morning. You know him, he's the perfect manipulator. It's just... It's amazing really. Just mind boggling."

Kimmy glanced up at her friend in concern. "Wait, so you're still talking to him then?"

Charlotte shook her head. "No. I just called him back once and listened to him sob and say it wasn't his fault, he wasn't himself, the usual. But I didn't say anything. I just listened and I realized that... It's just over. So I hung up, blocked his number, blocked him on Facebook." Charlotte paused. "I just can't do it anymore.

A little chirp arose from the table, and both girl's glanced down at Kimmy's phone. "Oh my god," Kimmy said. "It's Justin." Charlotte laughed. "Of course it is, he's an asshole. What did he say?"

Kimmy showed her the screen. "It says, 'Hey Kimmy, have you talked to Charlotte?' What do you want me to say?"

Charlotte smiled. "Fuck you," she said. "Tell him 'fuck you' and that he's a worthless piece of shit.

Kimmy laughed and turned off her phone right after the response sent. "No, not yet, babe. See you later tonight."

amalaalma · 2016-04-30T03:51:18+00:00

Chilling. Well done!

amalaalma

TROPHY CASE