Her name is Cecil, but to me she’s Olive. We’ve known each other since 6th grade and I love her with all my heart. She’s the best friend I could ask for and the closest thing to a sibling I will ever have. She’s seen me at my worst and vice versa. I want her to know that even when she goes away to college, there will always be “thiiiiissss”. I’m just a really bad person and can’t be sentimental directly.
I love you too. And I giggled slightly because you do technically have a sibling.
I’m sure I sound like some hipster being ironic by posting on tumblr about Kwanzaa (and hey, maybe I am a hipster. I mean, have you seen my glasses?) but just so everyone is clear, I am half-black, so I’m not trying to be ironic. But when I live with the white part of my family, celebrating Kwanzaa is kind of awkward.
“Rule #5: Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is nonexistent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery—celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to.”—
“I want to be disturbed by what you’re wearing. I want to be shocked and undone and delighted by what you’re doing and how you’re living. And I don’t want anyone to be afraid to put on their look, their body, their clothes anymore. Resistance is what is sexy, its what looks good and is hard to look at and what sometimes requires explanation.”—Dress to Kill, Fight to Win, LTTR 1. (2002). (via innerfatgirl)