Anytime a man tells you to shut up, speak louder.
From the drafts pile, relevant since the dawn of time. Every young woman should be taught this first above all other socialization.
some things are universal
Drafted when I lived in Singapore, so sometime in 2009/10.
Children act like children, though the children in Singapore are generally better-behaved than children elsewhere (and Asian babies are so cute!).
Saw an ad for a local children’s daycare. All these cute little Singaporean kids and the one token white girl.
Gyms still pressure-sell and everyone gets suckered in, then regrets it—as evidenced by some discussion forums I’ve looked at.
Cabbies add unexplained charges to the meter, pretend to not understand you or just act lost.
Women, no matter naturally tiny they are, still want to lose weight. As evidenced by all the weight-loss products and advertisements here. Or maybe all this stuff really works and that’s why they’re all so skinny. Or maybe not.
Women with straight hair want curls, women with curly hair wish for straight. Take this one to the bank.
Asians flock to stores to buy branded goods, the more expensive the better. Westerners flock to markets looking for knock-offs, haggling for the best bargain.
Nobody likes illegal immigrants working in their country. And yes, the browner-skinned people are always the “immigrants.”
Technology is imperfect around the world.
Hotel maids move my stuff around too much for my liking no matter where I am.
Regardless of where I am in the world, when I travel alone, I invariably end up in the next room to a fighting couple. She always starts crying. Then he either leaves or starts hitting her. Eventually, it stops. In case you’re thinking this leads to hot make up sex, it doesn’t. Sex never follows these hotel-room abuses. Fortunately. I’m not sure I’d want to hear the sex that follows abuse.
non-universal opinions
I’m still not used to the metric system. It’s utterly meaningless. What is 100g of something? An ounce? A pint? A teaspoon? It’s just a number divisible by 10. Okay, so I’m very Imperial. I’ve been told Australia successfully switched to metric in recent history and I don’t believe anyone died. I still like Imperial. It means something. It was created to measure real-life scenarios. It’s not sterile.
The only metric measurement I know is the weight of my checked bag. I can guess it to within a kilo, though I still can’t guess its weight in pounds. My goal was 10-12kg, but it regularly clocked in at 12-15kg. No getting around it no matter how I tried to skim the weight down. Even now in the US, I’ll check my bag’s weight and ask them to change the scale to kilos for me. But I can’t weigh anything else in kilos, if it’s not my bag, then I have no idea how much it is in kilos (and really, not a very clear idea in pounds either).
I still love US greenbacks. They feel like money. They smell like money. They sound like money. I think we have the sexiest currency in the world, but maybe it’s just what I’m used to.
Australia and Singapore and other countries have plastic money. It’s slick but not papery. No smell. Singapore’s currency is graduated by size, each denomination is radically different in color, it has a clear plastic window on the bills (which is cool) and a Braille system so the blind can easily handle it. It’s as progressive as currency can get. But it’s not sexy.
happiness in the time of 1984
This is a very old draft, obviously. I had a lot more to say that’s lost to time and TBIs. Sadly, it’s all still relevant.
Often, the worse things are, the more vehemently people are encouraged to be sunny.
The most recent findings, for example, are that wealth makes you happy but children do not. [By recent, this was published in 2009; and by findings, of course I mean what is obvious to all.]
The most inspiring people are those least obsessed with their own happiness, especially those who stride confidently across the globe to create, evoke change, or wrest from life what they will.
Eleanor Roosevelt believed happiness “is not a goal, it’s a byproduct.” I think she might be right.
welp
I’ve been meaning to tinker with this blog and do something with it. Twitter has permanently suspended my account for violating their rules on promoting illegal behaviors. That was the determination on appeal, so…
Been wanting to get off Twitter for many years now, as it’s a time-suck for me. Fun, and I enjoy meeting people (most of them, anyway), but a time-suck. I’ve toyed with re-starting this blog as a way to make affiliate income promoting products and services I use and like. I’m still going to do that at some point because why not?
For now, I’ve got to blow the dust off here. I haven’t found anything I want to port this to that I really, really like so I’m staying on WordPress. Going to update the theme, fix all the broken stuff in here, that sort of thing.
Will upload the HTML archive of my Tweets over the years because there were some bangers in there. My likes and bookmarks were a personal resource list that’s now gone (I failed to download my bookmarks in time). The Internet is forever when you don’t want it to be; otherwise, the Internet is never permanent. If you don’t know this by now, well, now you do.
Comments will reopen on new posts only. There are a lot of commenters who have scattered over the years and I hope to welcome them back. Reading over old posts made me realize I had a few really nice friends who got lost along the way. If you’re still subscribed to updates, well, hopefully you get this. If not, that’s yet another thing I need to fix around here.
This is an old house, but it’s still standing and it’s still mine.
@amanda_brooks: 2008-2025 (Oct-Dec)
Twitter
After “after hours”
I’ve been wanting to change up this blog for years. Getting more personal online is uncomfortable. Having more privacy yet retaining the audience I’ve built is the goal. Getting paid is ideal.
I’ve looked at Patreon and discarded it so many times in the last few years. There’s Substack, which almost persuaded me. But, in the end, it’s still a digital blog, same form and format, just with a little money thrown in. There’s nothing substantially different between it and my free Tweeting, or my free-to-read posts here. I am stuck with my working-class mindset: value must be given to the paying customer. It’s an honest mindset, even if somewhat limiting.
Then a side project I was developing took shape and I realized it would suit Amanda perfectly, instead. What am I if not a writer? Do I not claim I’m an artist, too? I should write, and create with writing.
In the spirit of contrariness, which has inspired most life choices, I have gone headlong the opposite direction from current, popular wisdom.
When people throw everyone online for “transparency,” that is the time to go private. When all communication is moved online, it’s time to move off.
Instead of a TinyLetter, an Actual Letter.
This comes from my stated desire to make money from my blogging, the rediscovered need to be creative without staring at a screen all day, and the pleasure of intimacy within certain boundaries, familiar to many sex workers. I earn a steady income from my blogging, which my creditors also enjoy — with more-inspired, regular writing to a smaller, appreciative audience.
Yes, someone whose normal handwriting really does look like shorthand has taken up the dip pen, found some nibs that work, and is developing something legible (and I aspire to real beauty, with enough practice). It’s creative. It’s what I’ve been dying for for years.
This is art, and approaching it as art is the way my handwriting becomes something more. As does my writing. I compose very differently when the ink literally flows from my pen than when typing on a keyboard. Key clicks are cheaper than dirt. Ink and 100% cotton paper? Very expensive and exquisitely thoughtful. There is no waste, I make few mistakes. Strange how not having a Delete key does that. (Pay no mind to my blotchy practice sheets, you know, those times when the ink really did flow from my pen.)
There won’t be 20K-word letters, my hands can’t take it. Expect a medium-length letter, 500-1K words, maybe all the way up to 2K if I really have the spare time.
The essays I’ve planned are all things I’ve wanted to discuss for a long time, but hesitate to make them public and Googleable. Pen to paper is not that.
I plan on producing some handwritten and updated editions of existing blog posts, perhaps quotes from my books or Tweets, things that aren’t personalized, serialized or brand-new. These pieces will be more affordable than the letters, and not in such limited quantities. My hope is some of these pieces are framed, perhaps put in a scrapbook, or something of that nature. Sex workers do love their physical, personal libraries.
The blog here will be much more surface, and less personal than it has been. If you want to read what I have to say, the real thought-pieces, the substantial and personal things I sometimes share, you must purchase a letter. If you want to be my pen-pal, for real, now you can.
Not going to do the letters indefinitely. A year, perhaps two. And then I’ll probably have said everything I want to say as Amanda. The letters are as close to a memoir as I’ll ever get. I really don’t have the ego required for a full-blown autobiography.
Private pen-pals will last as long as they last. Mostly I’ll let those relationships fizzle out on their own, likely after I’ve thoroughly offended all my pals.
Letters will never be repeated, or reposted on the blog or anywhere else. They’re real-world communication. Made once, consumed only in one manner by the person who receives them, not accurately reproducible by any means. My imperfect hand means nothing will be the same twice. Low effort wabi sabi.
Letters are folded properly, sealed with wax and a custom stamp, created for my personal theme of 2021. The letter will be inside the mailing envelope. So basically, you get a plain, addressed envelope, open it to reveal another plain, protective envelope, and inside there is your letter.
I have gold and purple wax, and various colors of satin ribbon. You can even choose your basic paper types: opaque or transparent. You get to choose wax color, ribbon color, and paper-type because I’m feeling generous and want you to enjoy the way your letter is presented.
Quantities are limited; both the current topical issue and number of pen-pals I’ll allow. I expect to produce a new issue every 4-6 weeks and I’m already behind in rolling this out, the February issue will go on sale starting the 9th.
Actual purchasing information and email notification of issues for sale is on my other website1. You pay via Square, my payment processor. The options are all explained on my sales page. I suggest reading it thoroughly. All questions should be answered, and there are helpful photos, as well.
All in all, I think this is pretty simple to understand. I write letters, you buy them.
Click here to go to Sales Page
I’m curious how quickly some idiot manages to screw this all up.
To recap: continuing to read the thought-pieces many enjoy means buying the topical letter. Being my pen-pal means purchasing private correspondence.
I love writing with a dip pen; and making $money$. I’m a brain-damaged hooker with artsy-fartsy flair. An entertainer for 20 years, I’m offering a new form of entertainment for you. Nothing bigger than that.
By next week I expect to see hundreds of escorts offering calligraphy and handwritten letters. I know of only one who currently offers handwritten correspondence. As usual, the unoriginal herd should pay me royalties because money is flattery. Imitation is neither flattering nor money!
1This blog theme, while lovely for blogging, is limited in being able to create unique pages, and I do not wish to waste my time right now redesigning this entire thing, that’s coming later this spring. I’m working on other deadlines at the moment.