Happy August!

Fortunately for you, dear readers, I am alive.

I know, I know, it’s hard to believe since I’ve gone, what, five or so weeks without posting, but it’s true. I’m still kickin’.

A brief rundown of how my July went:

  • Started Camp NaNo
  • Hated everything about my novel and decided to scrap it and make it a collection of shorts
  • Hated everything about my collection of shorts and decided to try my hand at stream-of-consciousness
  • Hated everything about that. Decided to just compile a bunch of minis together and hope I made goal
  • I actually did make goal – 51k WHOOT WHOOT – but it’s all just so awful I can’t even.
  • I’m entering a phase where I feel Spiritually Enlightened, which is cool. Barefoot freedom and meditation and junk. It’s actually pretty helpful.
  • I got into a minor car crash a few days ago and ugh my neck hurts so bad. Whiplash sucks, guys. Don’t get it ever.

Aaaaaaaaand that’s pretty much it. I know, I know, I should’ve posted since I wasn’t doing anything else.  Sorry. I was busy being Spiritually Enlightened or whatever.


I’ll post again soon. I pinky promise. <3



Let’s Do Some Reading

Today, as you may or may not know, is the 23rd of June. It’s only the 23rd of June once a year, so let’s make it count, yes? Yes.

My summer officially started on the 19th, and so I figure it’s about time for Fee’s Summer Reading List (which is still open to suggestions, by the way, guys)!


In no particular order:

  • The Autobiography of Malcolm X as told to Alex Haley. This is actually my current read, so I’m carrying it over into the Summer Reading. I’m almost done with it guys! I’ll probably write a review or something on it because it’s kind of life-changing.
  • Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women by Elizabeth Wurtzel
  • Les Miserable by Victor Hugo
  • Dear White America by Tim Wise
  • Race Matters by Dr. Cornel West
  • Black Like Me by John Griffin
  • The New Jim Crowe by Michelle Alexander
  • When You’d Gone by Maggie O’Ferrel, as recommended by Sarah Fish
  • A Corner of White by Jacklyn Moriarty, as recommended by Sarah Fish
  • The Mission by Jason Myers, as recommended by Sarah Fish
  • Dead End by Jason Myers, as recommended by Sarah Fish
  • Echo by Francesca Lia Block – who is an amazing writer by the way. If you haven’t read Dangerous Angels: The Weetzie Bat Books, please do. They’re beautiful and minimalistic and it’s amazing. This was also recommended by Sarah Fish.
  • Roses and Bones: Myths, Tales and Secrets by Francesca Lia Block, as recommended by Sarah Fish. As you can tell, I read most of my books based upon what Sarah likes and recommends.
  • The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, as recommended by both Sir Liam the Head Phil and my father
  • War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, as recommended by Sir Liam
  • Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, which I’ve begun multiple times but still haven’t finished
  • 1984 by George Orwell, as recommended by Ikey
  • Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, as recommended by Ikey
  • The Skulduggery Pleasant Series by Derek Landy, as suggested by the beautiful Ms. Melly
  • The Fault In Our Stars by John Green, as suggested by The Carpinator and everyone else that reads it
  • The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. See above.
  • Alex and the Ironic Gentleman by Adrienne Kress. See above’s above.
  • American Gods by Neil Gaiman, as recommended by everyone I know and love, it seems.

Wow look at all those books I’ll probably only read like two of them. It happens.


Until next time.



The Vacation

He lifted the mug to his mouth with a sigh bordering on desperation. From somewhere behind him, he picked up on the familiar cadence of his infant’s soft footsteps padding down on the tiled floors of the kitchen. He took a sip from his morning coffee before setting it down and staring into it as he awaited the usual greeting.
He didn’t look at the woman across from him.
“Daddy?” came the three year old’s voice, now beside her father, chubby arms outstretched and grin broad. Her footy pajamas were bright yellow and her short blonde curls were a mess. Absently, he told himself that he’d have to fix it before he took her out for the day.
He forced a smile of his own in response to hers, reaching down to pick the girl up and placing a firm kiss on her forehead. “Hi baby,” he said, his voice just a little hoarse. He drank a long gulp of his coffee to soothe it.
She reached for the juice left for her and drank a long gulp before smiling across the table. “Hi momma.”
The woman didn’t answer. Instead, she stood up, pacing, dying to move but having no where to go.
Unbothered by her mother’s restlessness, the child took a piece of bacon from her father’s untouched plate and munched happily. It was a comfortable routine; the way that the girl had expected her mother to behave, the way she’d always behaved.
“I think I’m going to leave,” the woman announced. She said the words detachedly, but he knew her well- and her death-grip on the back of her chair told all.
She didn’t have to elaborate, he knew. He’d been expecting it, had prepared himself for it, had almost been praying for it, but he wouldn’t – couldn’t – look her in the eye. He stared past her and nodded in an offhand way.
“I know,” he said, his voice carefully masked to conceal his thoughts. “It’s probably for the best.”
“Where you goin’, momma?” the little girl asked, perking up at the thought of a drive. “Can I come?”
“Someplace new,” the mother said airily, smiling at her daughter; a tight smile with chapped lips, the only kind she’d been able to give recently. “Don’t you fret, baby girl. I’ll come back.”
“It’s probably better if you don’t,” the man said evenly. For the first time in weeks, he looked at her–really looked at her. He soaked in the crows feet and her lack of sleep. There was an unhappiness that weighed down her shoulders. Guilt showed from behind his eyes.  “Don’t come back, I mean.”
The smile she’d plastered on faltered just a bit. Her daughter sensed the change. Her lower lip trembled, but she didn’t quite know why she felt sad.
“You’re probably right,” she said, her voice feather-light. She cleared her throat and let go of the back of the chair. “You’re right.”
Thank you to Sir Liam and my Mells, for forcing me to post, and Sarah, La Stranezza, and Jess for helping me edit. 

A Love Letter

Dear WordPress followers,

You are a dream. Your eyes glow like the morning sun and your hair is, erm, glossy?

I’m bad at love letters.

I am good, however, at my Officer User Specialist class, of which I am in as we speak. Really, it’s just a glorified computer class with a fancy name. I have absolutely no work left to do in this class, as I’ve already finished all the regular assignments as well as an entirely DIFFERENT set of assignments that don’t even count for a grade – it’s just busywork, really.

My time has been consumed with studying for EOCs – End of Course exams, mind you. I have the first of two tomorrow – the geometry one. And the second (biology) is on the eleventh.

I am 65% sure that I’m going to fail the biology one. Mostly because I’ve just been teaching myself since my teacher is awful at her job and I hate her. But that’s beside the point.

I wrote a story for my dad last month. Will probably post it soon. Be on the l0okout. But for now, adieu.



Let Me Tell You Some Facts.

Some Facts.

  • My hair was straight as a kid, but then progressively became curlier every year from fourth grade on.
  • Being multiracial is one of the biggest blessings in life.
  • I am currently writing you a story. If anyone would like to edit/give feedback prior to the posting of this story, just let me know. Seriously.
  • When you are sad, there are a number of things to do to cheer yourself up. For example: watch Sumo wrestling. Watch Adventure Time. Listen to my favorite song. Draw a picture and e-mail it to me (coffeethewriter@gmail.com, by the way). Write me a story. DISTRACT YOURSELF.
  • The same plant that makes chocolate also makes cocaine and heroin (I think. Don’t quote me on that, it might not be true).
  • I want to learn Spanish.
  • If anyone wants to teach me Spanish, I would be eternally grateful.
  • I’ve been searching for the Spanish version of “Stars” from Les Mis and I can’t find it anywhere.
  • I am reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X.
  • My very close friend had absolutely no idea who Malcolm X was, and it made me very, very sad. I almost cried, I’m not going to lie. It was an awful experience.
  • Recently, I’ve been watching a lot of Cornell West speeches and that man is absolutely wonderful. If you’re into any type of human rights activism, specifically African American Activism, and you haven’t looked into him, please do.
  • Imam Shakir is an amazing speaker.
  • I eat too much chocolate.





I Bite My Thumb At You, Sir.

This post is about – you guessed it – Romeo and Juliet. 

Shakespeare is, according to many literary nerds and people who’ve never even read any of his works, a genius. So they say, anyway. Others say he didn’t even really write his plays and yada yada, but I don’t really want to delve into that right now. 

I, myself, have never read any Shakespeare, nor seen any film based upon a Shakespearean script, but I do know the general story – two kids fall “in love”, they’re from opposing families who hate each other (not just in the you-TP’d-my-lawn type of neighbor hate, not just the you-purposely-ran-your-car-into-my-car type of neighbor hate, but the when-I-see-you-I’m-going-to-pull-out-my-sword-and-run-you-through type of neighbor hate), there’s some violence, they make some love, they kill themselves. 




Maybe I don’t understand because I have yet to read Shakespeare, or maybe I’m just not cultured enough. In any case, we’re beginning it as an in-class reading in my English class, so I suppose this post can be considered a preface. 

I will reaffirm or renounce this post when we finish. 

Until then, adieu. 




Corner Store Blues.

I saw a group of boys my age rapping on a corner – like legitimately rapping outside of a corner store – a few days ago. So what did I do?

I stopped to listen.

They rhymed about school, and drug use, and family life. They rapped about feelings and the discomfort of being who they were.

I listened for a long time, to these boys.

Seeing them so willing and honest to share their feelings and mind state with their friends made me happy and sad. I can almost guarantee that if they’d been sitting, having a conversation with each other, they wouldn’t have said any of the things that they’d said.

I wanted to take out my phone and videotape them, but it would’ve been wrong – it’s funny how I could videotape a fight at school with no remorse, but I can’t deal with honesty as easily.

It was really cool to see somebody express themselves through an art form like music. It made me realize how much art means to us.

Art imitates life imitates art imitates life. It’s a cycle.

Those boys made me feel poetry in my fingers for the first time in a very, very long time. So to those boys, thank you.

I thought I’d share my experience with you. I love you guys.