Linky Love; Bullish Ink


Do you see that girl, the one there on the left with the kick-ass blue satin jacket and Farrah Fawcett feathered hair? I grew up wanting to be her. Trying to be her. I did rotten things in an effort to execute that grand plan. I tried on her clothes when she wasn't around. I helped myself to her makeup, absconded with her jewelry and studied her every melodramatic mood and sarcastic sigh. And yes, I read her diary. Repeatedly. Regularly. Unlike my mother, I did NOT leave notes in her diary, critiquing the entries or adding my personal assessment of her emotional outpourings. I WAS however, dead set on figuring out to become her. As it turns out, that didn't happen and all things considered, that's probably lucky for everyone involved. Still, the idea of once again having daily access to her rantings, ravings and inner dialogue is something that fills me with delight, and so I am most pleased that she has decided to open up a blogging shop and backload it with a badass bunch of archives. Not all the way back to the feathered hair and satin jacket, but close enough to make it pretty fucking cool. Most often, I refer to her here as Ruby or Morticia. Occasionally I mention her as the first third of The Sisterhooe. But from now on, don't let my nicknames and labels define her. She calls herself Bullish and as of today her Ink is unlocked, and casually flopped open on the foot of the bed. No one is looking. We could totally tiptoe into the room and take a peek … and really who could blame us?

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