White people get so angry at the phrase, “You cannot be racist towards white people.”
I will never understand why.
Why are you so angry that you are being treated as actual human beings? You are not reduced to caricatures, but portrayed as characters. You are treated fairly, judged not by your skin tone, but by the ways that you carry yourselves, by your actions.
Why do you want to experience racism so badly? It is not fun to be mocked, dehumanized, attacked, killed, incarcerated simply for daring to exist. It is not fun to know nothing of your history or family because it was torn apart, whether through distance or death. It is not fun to hear, at every turn, comments reminding you of your lesser status as humans.
Do you really want to turn on the tv, open a magazine, watch a movie, play a video game, and not see yourself? Or, even better, to only see yourself as a criminal, as a drunk, a mocking stereotype, or as someone to be killed off? Or would you rather see fleshed out, well-written characters with lives and personalities and feelings? I know which I’d rather pick.
If I were a white person, the phrase, “You cannot be racist towards white people,” would be the best thing I could ever hear.
—You Really Got A Hold On Me
Seems that I’m always thinkin’ of you
Oh, ho, ho, you treat me badly, I love you madly
You’ve really got a hold on me
You can’t keep waiting for something to happen. You’ve got to give it your all and hope for the best. If you realize that your best isn’t enough, then it’s time you should try something else.
I just need a
week day to myself.
Last night, I finally got to see the Perseid Meteor Shower with a special someone. Call me lame, dorky, whatever you want, but I’ve waited a good five years for this moment. I hate being a writer and a former hopeless romantic, because I eat these things up faster than the meat finally cooking at a self-serve Korean BBQ restaurant. Anywho, everything was perfect from the empty park, the sounds of the crickets and bullfrogs, the slightly wet grass, the short walk we took to find the darkest spot, and just lying beside you and seeing the (two) shooting stars that would make our night even better.
I haven’t written about you in a while… And I know these things flatter you and make your already huge ego even bigger, but oh well. Stinky deserves to know that I like him a lot.
Those five years were worth the wait - even if we’re a day late because you sleep too much.