You Can't Write A Script In Your

Her Blog Was Doing Well, With Thousands Of Unique Visitors Each Month, And She Was Earning Good Speaking Fees, And She Had A Fellowship At Princeton And A Relationship With Blaine - "you Are The Absolute Love Of My Life," He'd Written In Her Last Birthday Card - And Yet There Was Cement In Her Soul. It Had Been There For A While, An Early Morning Disease Of Fatigue, Shapeless Desires, Brief Imaginary Glints Of Other Lives She Could Be Living, That Over The Months Melded Into A Piercing Homesickness.

When It Comes To Dressing Well, American Culture Is So Self-fulfilled That It Has Not Only Disregarded This Courtesy Of Self-presentation, But Has Turned That Disregard Into A Virtue. "we Are Too Superior/busy/cool/not-uptight To Bother About How We Look To Other People, And So We Can Wear Pajamas To School And Underwear To The Mall.

I Didn't Want To Be Apologetic About My Love Story, And I Think To Be Willing To Write About Love You Have To Be Willing To Sound Foolish. I Wanted To Write About Foolish And Goofy Love And Different Relationships. I Wanted To Write About Interracial Relationships In A Way That Does Not Pretend As If Race Does Not Exist.

About 52% Of The World's Population Is Female. But Most Of The Positions Of Power And Prestige Are Occupied By Men. The Late Kenyan Nobel Peace Laureate Wangari Maathai Put It Simply And Well When She Said 'the Higher You Go, The Fewer Women There Are.'

Red Was The Blood Of The Siblings Massacred In The North, Black Was For Mourning Them, Green Was For The Prosperity Biafra Would Have, And, Finally, The Half Of A Yellow Sun Stood For The Glorious Future.