Hey animals!
As much fun as getting tattooed, then undressing and taking pictures is, it's not the only thing I'm passionate about. Since I can remember, writing's always been the easiest and most effective way to express myself. Writing as a hobby started in elementary school when I kept a diary. Seriously, almost every day after school, I'd write a new Dear Diary entry. I wrote about my first kiss in 6th grade, which occurred on the night my school's cafeteria hosted, The International Food Fair. In 5th grade, I wrote about the first time my health class watched a entering puberty/sex ED video that scared that crap out of me! I remember trippin' over how fucking hairy men and women got. Shave that shit, man.
That was also the same day my friend Nicole put an "anonymous" question in the Q&A hat, which read: Does it hurt when the cock goes in the pussy for the first time? We knew immediately when the school counselor pulled our submission because her eyes bugged out like you see in cartoons and followed with a "....Ok that's all for today!" That question remained unanswered until a few years later when we actually lost our virginity. On a side note, how is it that a couple of 5th graders know and use the terms "cock" and "pussy"... Is that normal? Sneaking into my older sister's room to watch American Pie, Austin Powers and Cruel Intentions has taught me so much. I even wrote about the time my pal Olga and I went rollerblading in the park. That may sound like a lame, uneventful day, but writing about it only made it more exciting. That one time I scraped the skin off my knee and bled all over the beige, leather backseat of my dad's Mercedes-Benz was pretty intense, though.
Sadly, upon entering middle school and continuing onto high school and college, there wasn't much time for free, creative writing anymore. Now it was all about ESSAYS. The apartheid, Rosa Parks, Christopher Columbus, World War II, Gandhi, Martin Luther King vs. Malcolm X, sweatshops, the slavery behind the cocoa bean etc. Granted, these sub-topics taught me a great deal about our world's history (priceless), but it was all assigned. Kind of like the same way assigned reading isn't as much fun as reading for pleasure.
Two times a school year, my school scheduled Parent Teacher Conferences. This was my mom's favorite daughter bonding experience because it gave her inside access on how I was doing in school. When it came to grades, I was severely up and down. Basically, I had bi-polar disorder when it came to the various subjects I studied. Math, biology and foreign language... I did... Okay. Sometimes I'd miss the homework, class participation was below average, and I'd cheat on almost every test by copying the unfortunate person next to me, which usually ended up being a friend of mine anyway, so who cares. Looking at you, Tosca! But when it came to psychology, English and film... I was a superstar. Straight A's across the board, the teachers loved me, and I was willing to go above and beyond to learn more. Some days, I'd even stay after hours, which in those days, was a huge commitment. These parent teacher conferences usually ended with a half proud; half disappointed mother. But see, now, none of those A, B, C... Sometimes F grades matter. Yes, I failed math one year - but because I wasn't smart enough to pass. My math teacher was a short, Welsh cow with a horrendous accent who hated me because she not-so-secretly was in love with my film professor, who, let's face it, considered me one of his favorite students and was more of a friend to me than strictly a teacher. That definitely had something to do with failing. Jealous, much?
The point is, when it comes to matters I'm passionate about, there's nothing I won't do to at least try and pursue them. So, I try to write everyday, even if it's just jotting down an inside joke in the Notes app on my iPhone. Doesn't necessarily need to be published. With that goal in mind, I created a little website as a way to (hopefully) turn my personal ramblings into a career. If anyone's interested, click here. Or visit www.ridecoattails.com