tchrspt's profile

She waits on the cusp of something –anything, resembling greatness. Women and children are being raped and killed in Africa, maybe she'll go over there, teach English, the change will be good for her children, who are wil'ing out. Maybe away from the computer, from the video games and the Cheetah Girls and Yugioh and mp3 players and email they can emerge from a manufactured reality and into something...lighter, something…transcendent. Woman looks up positions on the Internet, do something, d...

She waits on the cusp of something –anything, resembling greatness. Women and children are being raped and killed in Africa, maybe she'll go over there, teach English, the change will be good for her children, who are wil'ing out. Maybe away from the computer, from the video games and the Cheetah Girls and Yugioh and mp3 players and email they can emerge from a manufactured reality and into something...lighter, something…transcendent. Woman looks up positions on the Internet, do something, d...

Arguments are merely a competition of voice, he'd scream, she'd scream louder. But in the end, his voice won, or her voice was simply ignored, and Woman would retreat into the bathroom to lick her emotional war wounds. In to the bathroom, lock the door, sit on the toilet, hands over the face, hold in the sobs. Woman Courageous never let anyone see her cry; it was a sign of weakness. She lay down on the linoleum floor, the cool tile soothing her wet cheeks, swollen from the rage she holds insi...