Sometimes little gifts fall out of the sky into my lap. That’s exactly what happened when my friend, Sister Wife, and blogger-buddy-extraordinaire, Samara, agreed to guest post here. If you don’t already know her (how could you not??), be prepared for passionate, fiery, sweet as pie, and funny as hell. Without further ado….
There are lovely things about having a friend from across the pond, regardless of which side of that pond you reside. It’s a keyhole view into another world, where cultural norms may differ. There’s also the added benefit of hearing their accent whenever you want. *swoon*
But sometimes these cultural norms can be utterly bewildering. Shocking, even. My guest today is someone most of you know and LoveAdoreCherish as much as I do: Lizzi of Considerings. She has a tale of culture clash that will leave you shivering in your knickers….or some English phrase like that, and I haven’t the foggiest notion who this mystery ‘Murican is. See if you can guess.
When Laura A. Lord asked me to guest post for her Women’s Issues series, I said yes without hesitation. But as my date crept up, I struggled with what to write.
Last night I sat in front of a blank computer screen for hours.
I knew exactly what story my soul wanted to tell. But I was fighting it.
Finally at midnight, I undammed the words.
I wrote about a single incident.
One that changed the trajectory of my life.
Read about it here.
My guest blogger today needs no introduction. Wait. *strokes beard* I wonder if you could tell who it is just from her/his writing? I’d be willing to bet money you could! His/her writing is that magical. She/He makes you laugh. He/She makes you think. But more than anything, he/she makes you want to be a better writer. I’ll reveal the author at the end, but don’t even consider cheating. See if you can figure it out beforehand. I double dog dare you! Take it away, mystery blogger….
TAMARA’S IN THE HOUSE!!!
I couldn’t be more thrilled to have the intensely-creative writer/poet, Tamara Woods, over to play today. I just got her book of poetry, The Shaping Of An “Angry” Black Woman, and am blown away by its complexity. I think you, dear readers-o-mine, will approve of the subject she’s chosen to share with you here, AND the best part is revealed through video because she freakin’ rocks like that! Without further ado, here’s a little taste of Tamara.
When I was growing up, I tried to picture who my perfect man would be. Talk, dark and handsome? A culinary wizard who also paints and likes to watch football? A cross between Jordan Knight, Christian Slater (circa Pump Up the Volume mixed with a bit of Heathers) and Johnny Depp (circa Benny and Joon)?
As I grew older, I realized I’m attracted to the misfit toys. This extends to friendships as well as lovers. I want the ones who are a little left of center. Not necessarily fixer uppers, because I don’t think they’re broken. I think they’re different, which makes them special. If I wanted normal, I’d turn on my dryer and have a seat. (This is going to a weird place. Let’s bring it on back.)
I’m also drawn to mystery. The unknown. If he’s got a brain like a puzzle, then I’m going to try to figure him out. What is his motivation? My current boyfriend, or as I like to call him, The Mathemagician is a man of few words. But when he speaks, I’m either laughing or learning-a heady combination for me. Going into year four, I’m still wondering where he comes up with this stuff. Utterly fascinating.
Back in my foot loose and slutty freed days, my roving eye would unerringly find that stranger across the crowded bar who wasn’t talking to anyone. He’s the one I’m going to sidle up to and give the sexy eye.–Though I’m not really good at being sexy, so it would more likely me doing a parody of the sexy eye, which looks like I’m having a twitchy fit. I rely on humor to bring the boys to the yard. They have to get their own milkshakes. I’m not Betty fucking Crocker.–
Anyway, what was I saying?
Oh yes, mystery. Intrigue. The guy who is smoldering in a corner, not really speaking. He clearly has something on his mind. And I want that something to be me.
Here’s a poem about meeting that perfect stranger.
Tamara Woods was raised (fairly happily) in West Virginia, where she began writing poetry at the age of 12. Her first poetry collection is available at http://amzn.to/1kti3r0. She has previous experience as a newspaper journalist, an event organizer, volunteer with AmeriCorps and VISTA, in addition to work with people with disabilities. She has used her writing background to capture emotions and moments in time for anthologies such as Empirical Magazine, her blog PenPaperPad and writing articles as a full-time freelance writer. She is a hillbilly hermit in Honolulu living with her Mathemagician.
There’s this photo of me standing on a Mexico beach circa 1997 where I’ve got my hands reaching high in the air (holding a Corona, of course), and my head thrown back in pure joy. We refer to it as my “head poppage” photo because it looks like my head could literally blow right off my shoulders with happiness.
That is how I feel about my guest today.
I doubt I need to introduce her, but just in case there are a few left in the blogosphere who don’t already know and love her, I present the amazing Lizzi of Considerings. Her writing either dissolves me into giggles or leaves me utterly breathless, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my blogwife. She is a true story architect whom I admire to the moon and back. Without further ado…..take it away Lizzi. (more…)
I couldn’t be more excited for my guest today,
To say this woman is multi-talented would be an understatement. Her blog is not only filled with posts about all aspects of writing, but also personal stories, editing advice, book reviews, and author interviews. She’s also an accomplished author herself, and a freelance editor…you know… in her spare time. The best part, though, is the fact that she’s approachable, funny, and supportive. If you don’t know of her already, I encourage you to visit her blog STAT!
Without further ado, I leave in you Jeri’s capable hands. (more…)