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July 12, 2019 / Brittany Hendrick

De novo

Something weird happened to me in April.

In May, life got even more bizarre.

Before I get into April, I must address a staggering fact: the day before I began writing this marked exactly one year since I published new content on here. Prior to that, 1.5 years passed by since I posted. Before that, another full year.

(my one, infamous question I put to everything in the universe)

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June 6, 2019 / Brittany Hendrick

Repost: Is it really that obvious?

Status quo.

If any WordPress post I’ve written over the past 10+ years could serve as a conceit for my life, it’s this one from 2011:

“You’re an on-the-go person, aren’t you!” the cashier at Kroger asked me today.

I ran in there after work to grab a bag of dog food for Levin, a 12-pack of beer and a box of crackers. Don’t judge! I knew I was going to be in front of the computer for a while tonight to type up recaps for some work I did over the weekend. Necessities.

“What?” I said, offering the dog food bag for the cashier to scan. Her question took me by surprise. I thought she asked because she’s seen me go through her line a lot in the past. However, I didn’t recognize her from any time before.

“You’re an on-the-go person!”

“Yeah…? I am…” I looked at her quizzically. Where’s the girl going with this?

“…Why?” I asked.

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June 19, 2018 / Brittany Hendrick

#MeToo: An incomplete personal history of male impropriety, imposition, and sexual misconduct

Some time ago on Facebook, under a thread on my wall that wended into the topic of stalking, I state that I have been violated “every way except physically.”

Yeah, except that’s not entirely true.

Oh yes, I have been violated. My car has been broken into countless times. I’ve had personal belongings and mail stolen from me, as well as money defrauded from my bank and credit card accounts.

Most chilling, after someone attempted to steal my truck while I was at a concert in Atlanta, I woke two mornings later to a knife in the tire of my rental car — which was parked in my driveway, 40 minutes outside Atlanta. Do you know HOW HARD you have to drive a knife to puncture a tire?! Undoubtedly, this show of force was a message communicated by an anonymous male person who got all butthurt because he couldn’t get his way with me.

I wasn’t able to recall recent encounters that could have instigated the incident. Ostensibly, I rebuffed some dude-bro (with good reason, obviously) and I guess he didn’t take kindly to being told “no.” So I had to PAY.

“Watch out, bitch. This is what I’m capable of,” said the faceless assailant behind the blade.

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January 16, 2017 / Brittany Hendrick

Boxes, Part I

JUST NOW, as I start writing this, I realize the coincidence of today, Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday. It’s not how I plotted out the beginning of this blog post — it was intended to be more interesting than these first two sentences. However, the subject is the same: a memory from my first day of the Montessori school I attended for a short while until I was old enough for kindergarten. I’ll get to the “real” thing I wanted to write about after I address this.

One of the schoolteachers, Karen, whom I remember wearing a red t-shirt, jeans, and having straggly hair past her shoulders, little-to-no makeup — I recognize it now as “earthy” or “hippie-like” — sat in a circle with us, “Indian-style” (quoting what the teacher called it back then), and led us into a chant while we slapped our hands on our knees every first and third beat:

Martin Luther King was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
He was a preacher and a teacher and a man of God,
And he loved you and me.

If this singalong scene indeed occurred in tandem with my Montessori debut, it had happened later that afternoon.

What I really want to talk about is that morning. How my day started.

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