I walked up to the main floor and called out to my mom upstairs, no answer. I tried to brush it off but the way my brain works is that I quickly started to think that my mom had fallen and hit her head, or someone had entered the house. I stayed silent for a few seconds waiting to see what it was, but nothing happened.
It sounded like a scream, but I could be wrong. As my game finished, I heard a sound from upstairs where everyone sleeps. This is where I think something weird happened. She went to bed as it ended and I went downstairs into the basement to play some video games. Everything seemed normal, we went out to dinner and went home to watch The Walking Dead. I took the bus and my mom picked me up from the bus station. I finished my final midterm a few days ago and decided to come home for the weekend. I know my mom, I know how she reacts to certain situations, I know how she starts conversations, etc. She texts me a lot at university to see how I am doing, or just sends heart emojis (she just recently learned about them so she goes crazy). We don’t see him often, but neither of us care that much since we never created a strong relationship with him.īack to my story, me and my mom are close. In case you’re wondering, my dad cheated on my mom when we were kids and married someone else. We are very similar, I got my mom’s personality while my sister got my dad’s.
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We regularly see movies, go to dinner, or just watch tv together. Me and my mom have a special relationship, she’s my best friend. My sister goes to the same school as me, but works part-time at my mom’s work so she commutes. Since my school is only an hour drive away, I like to bus home every few weekends to see my family (and especially my dog). I recently graduated high school and have gone off to university. I live with my mother and sister in a nice neighbourhood, you know, the usual. I think there is something wrong with my mother.
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Still, I don’t really know how to say this. I’ve read a few stories here (that creeped the fuck out of me which doesn’t help) in order to know how to write these things, what to say. I remember a friend telling me about this subreddit and that people can sometimes help others who are in need of it. I don’t feel safe here, which is probably stupid because I’m probably overreacting over nothing. Image and text from The Cleveland Museum of Art collection on JSTOR, which features more than 28,000 high-quality open access images.I feel stupid writing this, but I don’t know where else to go. Officials granted him an early release to finish it for exhibition at the Salon des Indépendants, where this major composition, one of the artist’s largest and most important, appeared in March 1908. Rousseau was working on this painting while imprisoned for fraud in December 1907. Here, sharply outlined hothouse plants are enlarged to fearsome proportions. He placed this imaginary scene of a tiger attacking a buffalo within a fantastic jungle environment in which botanical accuracy was of little importance (note the bananas growing upside down). Having never ventured outside France, Rousseau derived his jungle scenes from reading travel books and visiting the Paris botanical garden. Henri Rousseau, Fight between a Tiger and a Buffalo, 1908.Ī self-taught artist and retired customs inspector, Henri Rousseau was admired by Pablo Picasso and other avant-garde artists for his originality and the naïve purity of his vision. creepy creeps memoir queer theory pop culture open access open access books research academic research academic writing jstor Ultimately, Alexander argues, a study of creepiness might offer us critical insight into the fundamental perversity of how we live. Ackerley, to explore what makes a creep creepy, and how even the best of us succumb at times to being creeps. He also resurrects some famous “creeps” from the past, such as J.R. Ranging widely over contemporary culture, especially the ever-creeping presence of nearly ubiquitous surveillance, Alexander confesses his own creepiness while also explaining to us what being creepy can show us in turn about our culture. Calling this work a critical memoir, he draws on his own experiences growing up gay in the deep south, while also interrogating examples from literature and popular film and media, to approach the figure of the creep with some sympathy. In this provocative and engaging book, Jonathan Alexander interweaves personal narrative and cultural analyses to explore what it means to be a creep. Creep: A Life, A Theory, an Apology is a timely meditation for our strange and creepy times.
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