models in their own clothes

03282017 masterlist (part 1 -reactions)

scenario masterlist can be found; here

check out our active masterlist here to always stay up-to-date with our scenarios and reactions ;)







      MONSTA X





            BLOCK B


            ➽  meeting the girl of his dreams

            ➽ seeing you walk around the kitchen like a zombie with bed hair while wearing only his shirt

            ➽ accidentally falling for a very young fan

            ➽ his s/o going thru a hard time because of fan hate

            ➽ what kind of a movie would you two be?


            ➽  meeting the girl of his dreams (giri and iron)

            we hope u enjoy them!!!

            also… happy birthday to our wang puppy!!

            Originally posted by suga-pills

            Originally posted by fyeahgsd


            Yuri on Ice BD audio commentary translation - Volume 4

            I absolutely wanted to post this within today because this evening I want to work on the Pash interview with Sayo Yamamoto… This BD volume has lots of choreography footage so that will take a while to translate, and I’m going to give priority to the interview.

            This commentary is different from the others because it’s not just Kubo with another person, there’s 4 of them. Luckily enough they don’t really talk over each other (except for one part, lol), but in the second half I translated most of what they say as dialogue because I felt it was more fitting. In the dialogue parts my notes/comments are in brackets.

            The commentary is only for episode 7. Episode 8 has no commentary. It’s not a full translation but I summarized most of what they said, and some parts are almost completely translated. Fans of Phichit, Guang-Hong and Leo should definitely read it as it’s a rare chance to get comments from these voice actors. Also, their reactions to the last scene are hilarious, that’s a must read too.

            The commentary is by:
            -Mitsurou Kubo
            -Kenshou Ono (Phichit)
            -Yuutarou Honjou (Guang-Hong)
            -Shunichi Toki (Leo)

            Translation under the cut because it’s long. Enjoy!

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            04082016 MASTERLIST

            So here is finally a new full masterlist for all of our scenarios and reactions. These is all the reactions and scenarios we wrote till this day

            you can keep us with our masterlist ↠ here

            enjoy :)

            ⥸  Reactions and Scenarios


            Rap Monster:








            • A - Based on the song A by GOT7
















            Other Boyfriends:




            SHINEE ;

            MONSTA X ; 

            VIXX ; 


            IKON ; 



            WINNER ; 


            BLOCK B ;


            DΞΔN ;

            ➽  meeting the girl of his dreams

            ➽ seeing you walk around the kitchen like a zombie with bed hair while wearing only his shirt

            accidentally falling for a very young fan

            GIRIBOY ;

            ➽  meeting the girl of his dreams

            IRON ;

            ➽  meeting the girl of his dreams

            Originally posted by jahe


            Omgcp Drag Race au things i think abt a lot

            - bitty doing Paula Deen for snatch game

            -jack, NHL star and guest judge on rupaul’s drag race, asks rupaul if she’ll give him the number of that cute drag queen, Georgia Peach

            - Nursey and Dex having to be partners for a challenge, and go from hating each other to making out in the “untucked” lounge, after winning said challenge

            - Holster proposing to Ransom onstage at the season finale. It goes something like this:

            RuPaul: so, Eve (Holster), you gained quite the fan base durin-

            Holster: RuPaul can I do something real quick?

            RuPaul: ….uhh…..

            Holster: *turns to Ransom, who’s sitting next to him* wanna get married, babe?

            Ransom: sure.

            Audience: *claps excitedly and confusedly*

            - chowder does the splits at the perfect moment during a lip sync and everyone goes crazy

            - Dex gets into an all-out cat fight with Michelle visage

            - bitty lip syncs to halo and everyone cries

            - Dex doing cool things with his freckles, like painting them shimmery gold

            - “Hockey Couture” runway theme, where the queens have to glam up old NHL outfits

            - bitty’ specialty is dancing and modeling

            - Ransom’s specialty is acting and comedy

            - Holsters specialty is lip syncing and comedy

            - Dex’s specialty is fashion and modeling. He sees his own clothes and they are AMAZING

            - Nursey’s specialty is makeup and acting

            - Nursey acts very “flazeda” throughout the show but near the end he has an emotional breakthrough/breakdown, and starts being really sincere about his emotions for the rest of the show.

            - winner: bitty
            2 & 3: Nursey and Dex
            4th: Holster (lost to bitty during the epic halo lip sync, his fan base is tearing shit up until he gets on allstars)
            5th: chowder (lost to holster bc the guy can Lip Sync!)
            6th: ransom (lost to holster. It was very dramatic and emotional. There was crying. They kissed at the end and Michelle visage needed to take a moment to dry her eyes)

            - Dex and Nursey start officially dating after the show. Dex makes their drag outfits and Nursey does their makeup

            - Dex, Nursey, Holster, and ransom all end up on allstars bc not only r they amazing queens but their respective romances bring a big audience

            - bitty gets a call from a certain NHL athlete. They start dating soon after.

            Part 2 of Model!Yuri and Photographer!Otabek.

            Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5


            The next time Otabek works with Yuri Plisetsky, he’s expecting it. He’s been paying more attention to the names of the models he will be working with and Yuri’s name had finally shown up again. Not that he was necessarily looking for it.

            Of course, even if he had not seen Yuri’s name on the latest contract he would still know. The clothing that lines the racks around him is none other than the same line of tacky animal prints that he remembers Yuri modeling before. He can’t fathom how someone as talented and as good looking as Yuri would end up modeling for a designer with little to no fashion sense, though he can’t deny that Yuri can pull them off.

            Yuri actually makes them look good.

            “Will you stop with the fucking hair?”

            Otabek glances back. Yuri’s vanity is set up in the same room as the photo studio, set off to the side behind Otabek to be out of picture range. His stylist fusses over a few strands at the front of Yuri’s head that Yuri himself keeps ruffling loose every time she turns her back.

            “Just leave it like that.”

            “But Yuri, it’s not–”

            Yuri’s voice deepens in warning. “Don’t touch.”

            Otabek’s lips twitch. They’re the same few strands of hair he had pulled forward at their last shoot. Admittedly he’s glad that Yuri is leaving them down. He looks better with his hair a little unkempt. Slicked back and still isn’t a look that suits Yuri Plisetsky.

            Keep reading

            Just A Friendly Reminder to Some of You Black Folks: “Beggars Can’t Be Choosers!”

            Black People rely on White People for EVERYTHING: food, water, clothing, shelter and mostly anything else in between, even for the ability for us to get up on the WHITE MAN’S internet services and voice our anger and dismay at our oppression because black men have not built an infrastructure (like many SERIOUS pan-african scholars and activist have asked, literally begged for black men to in the last 50-100 years)  so that we don’t have to rely on other races for our most basic necessities, yet some of you won’t “take me seriously” because white models are modeling my t-shirts something I have no control over. For more, I discussed all of this and more here.

            Many black people who are selling clothing or products, online and offline, with or without models, ARE USING WHITE OWNED VENUES OR PLATFORMS to sell or market their brands and products. They are just create the products and not responsible for the models, if there are any, the shipping, handling,  nor the printing.


            Those of you who are complaining about my -t-shirts on white models are buying food, clothing, water, and shelter from the same white-owned businesses and companies that provide our basic needs EVERYDAY. Most of us will log off only to go to the nearest grocery or clothing store to buy something made by, manufactured, marketed, or provided by WHITE MEN, yet you can’t take me seriously? Maaan come on now, LOL! Really?!?!


            And oh,oh,ohhhhhhh let’s talk about how many black people sit up and support and donate to Uncle Tommy Sodomizer and other bw haters spew the most venomous vitriol ON THE WHITE MAN’S PLATFORM about black women with NO QUESTIONS ASKED, but will question a black woman like me who is just using my platform to create art that empowers the most oppressed peoples because the models are white, when I have taken a pic and will be taking more of me in my shirt to let my audience know who is creating them.

            So before those of you that take an issue to this, THINK BEFORE YOU TYPE coming at me with all these knee-jerk reactions, without taking into account all FACTS above.


            It’s just so sad that I have to remind black folks of this. SMDH


            Nuno Gama - Fall Winter Collection 2014

            About Me - Life Story Part 1

            Dear tumblr,

            Every few years I introduce myself in some fashion, just to keep an updated version of myself current. This year i decided to retry giving an elaborated, but still somewhat brief outline of my life story so far. I did this a few years ago, and i probably did it better back then - but i didn’t finish. And i lost half of it and the rest is on a computer i don’t really use anymore. I will write this saga in segments as to not to explode the heads of anyone who wants to read it by taking up too much time at once, or overdoing information, and it give myself time to go through the different parts. So here goes part 1.

            My name is Renee Clariss Sanborn. I was born and raised in rural northern Idaho in a town called Kendrick that was ¼ meth town, ¼th Garth Brooks/hunters/trucker land, ¼th early 1900’s antiquity, and ¼ woods with no people. My house was an antique historical monument that my father bought for my mother so they could fix up based on my mother’s fantasies of fixing it up to be a place where socialites from all over the world might visit (nothing of the sort ever happened). The home even has it’s own wikipedia page – . I have two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and two older half sisters, and 11 nieces and nephews, and two great nephews. I have a number of uncles and aunts too, but other than my grandmothers, I really have not spent a lot of time with most of them.

            My father and mother met in a factory. My mom, Sandra, was very pretty and had spent most of her young life in an abusive marriage to her first husband. My father, Dave, was a failed musician, turned body builder, turned cocaine dealer. After a few years of a rocky relationship, my mother ended up getting pregnant, so my father stayed with her mostly based on that fact, and when I was three they moved us all out to Kendrick, with a population of 300 people.

            My mom grew up near Couer de’ Alene Idaho to a highly sociopathic and abusive father who made her and her mom and brother’s lives hell. She also likely contracted lead poisoning since she lived for much of her time in a town called Smelterville where there has been very heavy lead poisoning due to the mines and stuff around that area. I don’t really know what my mother was like when she was young other than she tended to follow boys around, soccer, and she sewed her own clothing. She did some modeling at a college for a short period, posing nude for artists to paint, though she never did go to college herself. My grandmother didn’t like that and forced her to stop. My mom’s first boyfriend took her up to Alaska when she was seventeen while they were building pipelines. She worked as a waitress at a strip club. She had my oldest sister up there, and shortly after her boyfriend ditched her. My mother refuses to say much about this time period, but from stories I have gathered from my family, the owner of the club was also a pimp, and he raped my mother and beat her and my sister Maria, and tried to force her to be a prostitute. I don’t know the details of this situation, but when her and Maria escaped and came back to Idaho, they were both severely malnourished and bruised from head to toe.

            My mom didn’t really get along with the rest of her brothers and her own mom, and was a bit of the black sheep of the family. She moved down to Lewiston Idaho with Maria when she was nineteen. My mom, being apparently clueless, married the first man she saw in the first bar she applied to be a waitress on her first day looking for work in Lewiston. He was a very rich, older abusive drunk of a man. She stayed with him as a housewife for several years throughout the eighties, had my second half sister Roxanne, and eventually after ten years of marriage, she left him. A month later, she was working at the bullet manufacturing company and she met my dad.

            My mom never really has felt love for men at all. She sees them as dumb creatures who are also dangerous who can pay your bills for you if you look good enough. So, that’s how that worked out. My dad for whatever reason bought the shtick and after a few years of an on again off again relationship, and after finally having broken up permanently, was told that my mother was pregnant. Since my dad was kind of a fifties guy, he married my mom out of duty, and because he wanted to get out of disco-drug culture but didn’t know how. So my existence was what more or less gave him reason to start life anew.

            My dad never really knew his father. He has one very vague memory he says, of being in a highchair and seeing his father screaming at him because he would not eat the baby food on the spoon. My father’s father, my grandfather I am told, was a very angry and abusive guy. They all lived in southern California. My grandfather Robert was a sailor, and my grandmother Betty who’s father was a member of the mafia, but we never knew who he really was (a different story for a different day), was raised by nuns and for her entire life, both chain smoked continuously, and was absolutely phobic of just about everything. For this reason, she never learned to drive. She would cry hysterically when it rained. She talked the way fifties women should talk, only she had a slightly more baby-talk way of speaking. Anyway, my grandfather was a very physically abusive man, and it’s been suggested that he was probably bipolar. But he didn’t really live long enough to figure much out. He was hit by a drunken semi driver who went in the wrong lane. And so my father and his family packed up and moved to Lewiston Idaho.

            My dad grew up without a father, and so he followed his older brother Bob around, who was and is highly intelligent and also quite criminal. There was always a rivalry between him and Bob, with Bob always being jealous of Davy. This is only notable, in that it came to shape who my father was. My dad was one of those very simple 50’s boys who actually needed a father in his life. I don’t believe that all boys ‘need’ dads, and I think that can be a very outdated idea that implies that male influence is better than women’s, or that family structures have to have that patriarchy in them. But my dad longed for a male figure to look up to. Behind a lot of his attitude throughout his life, I think that underneath it all he is still trying to live up to some invisible male expectation that was never laid out for him.

            In the late 60’s, my dad became one of the few kids in the town of Lewiston to be a hippie. This was a very big deal, and he got into a lot of fights for it, for having long hair. He did LSD over three hundred times before he turned 17. He became a bassist in a band that played a sort of New York Dolls style of music, though they mostly did covers. After high school they toured all over the north west and were considered quite a popular act in their day, considering the scarcity of that kind of music in the inland north west. After three or four years however, the entire band had gotten very much into drugs, and were not able to keep a tight ship. My dad has always been sort of a fool about people. He cannot tell when people are his friends, he tends to act in a way to play all his cards. He also is very extroverted, at times quarrelsome and overbearing. So they likely started to play him like a fool. My father bought most of the instruments and speakers with money he inherited when he was 18 from a trust fund set up because of his father’s death. They stole his instruments and they kicked him out of the band.

            He cut his hair and at some point developed a taste for body building and Huey Lewis and the News. He applied at the local bullet factory that paid well, and after ten or so years of dealing coke and being a steroids taking self centered – and most likely totally dickish asshole, he met my mother and decided that was a good idea for whatever reason. (I apologize for my thinking that my parents relationship, and my birth were terrible ideas).

            So my oldest sister Maria, who is eleven years older than me has some serious mental health problems. She displays very strong signs of Borderline Personality Disorder. I am not diagnosing her per say, but from what I have read, she really does fit all the criteria. My mom for whatever reason decided to distribute love very unevenly among her children (my mother also has some serious issues). Maria had it the worst. My mother’s first husband hated Maria and made her life a fearful hell, Maria’s own father didn’t want anything to do with her, and my father was also abusive to her. My mom would literally push Maria away when she was a child and needed a hug. This really affected Maria for the worst. She stopped going to the bathroom on the toilet, and this was when she was eight. She started lying and stealing compulsively. And my mom kept shipping Maria off to other families, other friends from work, whoever she could con into taking Maria, some of these families also being abusive. It was very clear that my mom just didn’t want Maria.

            My dad came into the picture, and he being an aggressive dummy – particularly in those times, would make a habit of whipping her whenever she wet herself. This went on this way till she was twelve. Maria tried to commit suicide when she was eleven by drinking a bottle of rubbing alcohol. My mom found out, but even then, my crazily cold mother didn’t seem to care. My dad did care, but he and my mother were both horrible about this, and instead chalked all of this behavior up as just ways to get their 'attention’ as though that were something Maria didn’t deserve, and she was scolded for her suicide attempt. I honestly, for the life of me cannot understand why nobody in my family took Maria to see a mental health professional. Instead, she was further ostracized and resented until she ran off when she was fifteen.

            This behavior from my mom and dad’s part really goes to show what kind of cold selfish people the two of them can be. It’s confusing because they are not always this cruel, there seems to be random bursts of care at random times. It’s hard to explain. But I have seen this side to my parents. I use this as a reference because anything I might say from personal experience is bound to be a bias interpretation. Maria’s case is clear cut abuse and I can site it to make my point when I need to.

            Roxanne, my second oldest half sister had a much different life than Maria. Roxanne was very hyper and giggly. She was my mother’s pride and joy. She would go on to spoil Roxanne terribly. Buying her whatever she wanted on a whim. She was considered everything Maria was not. Maria grew up with this little impish angel dancing around her, and Maria grew to hate Roxanne to the point of putting Roxanne in some very dangerous situations hoping she could get Roxanne maimed in some way. Roxanne was also one of those little children that wants to start dating when they are kindergartners. I grew up with Roxanne as a sort of role model in some ways. She always seemed really cool to me. I didn’t have her energy though. I also had a different father, and was raised under different circumstances. I was always fearful where she was always foolishly fearless. She was tall and thin, where I was clumsy and pudgy. Roxanne would laugh on a roller coaster, and I would always cry. In this way, we were just very different. The similarities are mostly in our facial structure – out of all my siblings, I look like her the most I think. And I tried very hard to be a cool 90’s girl like her.

            When Roxanne was thirteen, her father’s girlfriend sent photos of her to seventeen magazine. They accepted her, and for a short while, it looked like Roxanne was going to be a model. But at the same time, Roxanne had been sleeping with boys and partying. She was only twelve when she started doing this. I remember very vividly that we shared a room. Roxanne would always torture me in some fashion, but then she would wait till she thought I was asleep, and she would climb out the window and off into the night to go do god knows what. I never told on her.

            So, at age twelve, she got pregnant. It was kept as a secret from my father for a time, but then he found out and all hell finally broke loose completely in the family. My father didn’t feel like Roxanne had any business raising children and thought she should put the baby up for adoption. Roxanne wanted to keep the baby and my mother stood by her on this decision. On top of this, my mother had stopped working for a few years around this time and had ran up 80,000 dollars in debt – mostly on things you order on television and clothing for Roxanne. So my dad was working constantly trying to keep up with my mom’s spending. She simply would not stop. They had half finished fixing up the old house, but it was clear at this point that half done was all it would ever be. Also, my mom had my brother and sister as babies around that time, so that added to the stress of it all. Maria had caused fights until she moved away to live with her boyfriend. I had had a brother William who, due to a drunken doctor, was born brain dead and died five days later in the hospital. This loss kind of ruined my parent’s marriage. It was all just crumbling.

            So there was a bitter war in the house, and general tension that my dad would explode. Roxanne had grown to hate my father for being the meathead who tried to keep a patriarchal order in the home who called the cops on her when she ran off to do drugs for days at a time. My mother resented my father because he didn’t like her spending, because he talks constantly and over everyone else (he still does), and he never seemed to listen at all, and by this time it was clear that I was his favorite person in the family, so at six, though I was not aware of it at the time, I was resented by my sister and my mom.

            So, what happened next, during this time was, Roxanne made up a story that my father had molested her when she was young. It was shocking, and it caused a lot of problems for my personal morals – not knowing the truth of the situation until I got much older and Roxanne confessed that she lied. This basically made my father evil in my mother’s eyes. So, she kicked him out of the house. And then my mother drove off to party. My dad was living in a camper somewhere at this time, working three jobs, still paying the bills. Roxanne had accused him of the most foulest crime ever. It was really something.

            At this point, I want to take a step back though and explain that even though this sounds bad, and in some ways for me it was, I personally did not live this life that everyone else had chosen for themselves. My personal world was quite magical and I was not fully affected by the circumstances in my family.

            From my perspective, my mother was always distant. This might have affected the kind of nurturing person I am, or rather, am not. I felt very distant from my own femininity because I didn’t really get allowed in the female circle of my family. I was pushed away, and this essentially made my father the major influencer over me. I am not like other girls. I don’t know why, but I think it is because of my mother’s lack of involvement with me whatsoever after age three. She didn’t play with me, hug me, or talk to me. I remember her as a silent statue while my father just blabbered and blabbered. It may be one of those mysterious favoritisms my mother has, but it might have simply been that she resented that my dad loved me more than he did her or her other daughters. In any case, it wasn’t my fault. She favored Roxanne over me, and so having been rejected by the mother figure, I went to my dad for reassurance. This kind of set the stage I think for how I am able to fit in in female social circles as a whole. I have female friends in my life, but they are never like other female friends. And the girls I hang out with have always been social outcasts. And I usually feel like an outcast even to them.

            However, my mother was good at providing me with a sort of homemade way of living. She sewed half my clothes, which were generally frilly old fashioned outfits. Half my toys were actually antiques. I was taught to pick up after myself. I became quite organized. Breakfast was made for me every morning on an antique tray, that I would take into my antique table, and chair, and I would eat my meal and then put it outside the door. I was very self sufficient when I was young and I never got bored. The bread we ate was homemade. She was really good this kind of thing. I think growing up in an old house, with a wood stove, with old fashioned furniture, clothing, living in a town of old fashioned brick buildings with old men that still dressed like it was the 20’s gave me this really strong sense of bygone eras. I was somewhat immersed in antiquity from a young age.

            My best friend in the world growing up was actually my grandma. Until age five, my phobic chain-smoking afraid-of-everything grandma lived in a few upstairs rooms in the house. She always owned cats. She always smelled like cigarettes. I would visit her just about every other day and we would watch Bob Ross, and Mr. Rogers. I used to hold her hand and push on her big mushy veins. When the weather was bad, my mom and dad would not let me near her door, knowing that she was secretly crying in fear. I only found out later what was happening. She had two cats, Stanley and Booker. My father hated cats back then, and he resented her love of animals. My grandma Betty, and my mother however, did not get along. My dad didn’t agree with either one of them, but they put him in the middle of their squabble. Eventually, my grandma moved to live with my dad’s younger brother Steve. It was very hard for me, and my family didn’t tell me till she already moved.

            I had a lot of structure when I was young. I do remember the sorrow in the house when William died. That kind of changed things. But everyone was quite nice to me, aside from Roxanne, who delighted in picking on me. I had a friend up the street named Colt, who would come to my house and we would make mudpies. There was a public pool that was open in the summers, and a creek that ran through the town. It was a beautiful place to grow up when you were very small. The old people that my grandma Betty would sometimes visit down at the diner would always dote over me, in my antique style dresses my mother sewed for me. I remember these days very positively.

            I mostly looked forward to my father coming home after work. I used to eat dirt for some reason and I think I got worms at some point for this. I found scissors one time as well, and I chopped half my hair off. My mother had to chop off the other side to make it even, and I cried thinking I looked just like a boy. I used to play games where I made ants have competitions to see which one could live the longest in water. It was probably the meanest thing I ever did. I was generally a very calm and well behaved child. There were only three times I ever got into trouble. The first one was, I decided I wanted to be a black person. I am not sure at all where this came to me. I just felt that I should be black. I didn’t know anyone who was black. I just thought black skin looked better. I just felt like my family didn’t understand me for this. I decided I was going to change my skin color with dirt. I realize this story might seem kind of racist to anyone reading it, but I am attempting to just be honest about what happened, I was four and I didn’t mean anything at all to be insulting, other than having an honest need to change the color of my skin. I wasn’t trying to be funny. I seriously thought mud would do the trick somehow. I got naked, went outside, filled up a basin with mud, and completely soaked myself in it. Then I proceeded to walk around covered from head to toe in mud naked in broad daylight down the street. My father came home from work, he saw me and I not only got hosed down with cold water that made me cry, I also got whipped. My dad is racist too, so he probably indoctrinated me with some terrible bullshit to defer me from wishing I had dark skin.

            Aside from my mother buying things online, she also would buy animals we could not take care of, birds, fish, iguanas, cats, dogs, pigs. We’d keep them for a short while, before they would eventually die or we would have to get rid of them. She never would talk to my dad about it at all. She would just wake up one morning and buy the animal. My dad would come home and there we would have three iguanas, or a new dog, or whathaveyou. We had a pig for a short time named Angie. Angie was my friend. I would pet her and feed her popcorn. She was a very sweet little pig. Eventually my father got rid of her, selling her to essentially be slaughtered. After this I refused to eat meat. I didn’t know that meat was animal flesh until that point where it was explained to me by Roxanne, and it took a a lot of firm punishment to get me to eat meat after that. I eventually did of course go back to the brainwashed world of meat eating, but I never really forgot it entirely, which is why I eventually went vegan as an adult as soon as I was able to as an adult.

            The third thing I did was uncharacteristic of me and shocked my family. My best friend Colt had a cousin named Carrie. Carrie was very well liked by the adults. All the kids wanted to play with her. She lived far away, so her visitation was also taken as a celebration. Even Roxanne liked her over me. She said so herself. I remember sitting off away from everyone else by the trees. Carrie wasn’t mean to me or anything, but I remember feeling like I needed to set things right in some way. I felt like Carrie threatened my place I guess. I was instantly left out the second she came to visit. I was a very introverted child and I didn’t know how else to get attention other than to be at the right place at the right time. So I went and found a big stick. It might have been Carrie’s birthday, I cannot quite remember. I walked straight up to her friendly smiling face, and I remember mindlessly whacking her as hard as I could in the face with the stick. The funniest thing about this incident is that I was not mad at Carrie. I did not do this aggressive thing because I was mad at her. I remember feeling compelled, but not by strong emotions. Which was why I was equally confused when everyone around me began scolding me. It even confused me why Carrie was crying. Nobody could understand why I did what I did. I didn’t feel guilty because I didn’t understand it either. It just happened. Everyone around me was angry at me or in shock. I just felt confused by the entire event.

            A week before I started school, my friend Colt (who moved at the end of that summer), convinced me to put a bead up my nose. I remember it very well. It was a pretty red sparkly one. I put it up my nose, and I could not get it out. Eventually Roxanne found out, then my mother. Everyone did everything they could but it was lodged into the very back of my nostril at this point. So I was driven forty miles to the hospital, where they used some strange doctor’s equipment and pulled it out. I remember feeling very relieved. A week later, I turned five. My father found this obscure Japanese cartoon that I fell in love with – which just so happened to be Totoro.  They took me all the way up to Spokane to Chucky Cheese (which wasn’t really as fun as I had hoped – all the kids seemed really wild and the pizza was sub par). It felt like the rites of initiation.

            Anyway, school officially sucked. Kindergarten was probably the hardest year of school I ever had. My grandmother had moved away. Maria had moved out, and despite being a pain to the family or whatever, she was actually quite sweet to me, always letting me look at her stuff, she would read the bible to me, teach me cheesy songs by guns 'n’ roses. I didn’t really know about how often she stole, or lied. I didn’t know about the orgies or how she ripped up her papers in class. I thought Maria was a beautiful princess. Anyway, she was gone. My grandmother had moved. Colt moved away as well. He had been my best friend for two yeas of my short life, and he was gone. I had just gotten a bead pulled out of my nose.

            Maria had me watch Crybaby for the first time. I was enchanted. At five I was madly in love with Johnny Depp in Crybaby. I didn’t see it as a satire, or a comedy. I thought of it as a really intense romance. I was absolutely obsessed and consumed by any passion that a very little girl that I was could possibly feel for someone. I was probably more in love with Johnny Depp than my parents had ever been with each other if I am going to be honest. My mom, though obsessed with her boyfriends, has never actually been in love at all. I am not sure she really actually likes men, or trusts them. And my father is not a romantic person. I think by definition he would be considered aromantic by scales of sexuality/gender/and romantic inclination. He just sees utility in human interaction and no poetry at all. I kept trying to draw Johnny Depp over and over. I also by extension thought Elvis was pretty nice too. It was never good enough. I was a bit of a perfectionist. I remember crying because my drawings kept looking like a typical ungifted child’s drawings. I wanted to make adult art. I was not capable of it. I remember the frustration. But it was this early age that I decided I wanted to grow up to be creative. I realized that with art, you can take the beautiful things in the actual world, and you can insulate them and pack them together into music, stage, words, and pages of lines and color. And you can study those beautiful things and work with them in their purity in a way that life rarely provides the opportunity for.