Here I am, once again...to tell you about the reaction to that famous letter in the end. I've been tempted not to write on this blog any more. Shame? Hatred? Disappointment? Or simply laziness? I can't say properly but it's time to speak the truth...I got no reply from Captain America, as one of my commentators named the guy who received that wonderful booker-prize-worth piece of a letter. Nada, niente, nothing....no Christmas cards, no e-mails, not even a sharp F* word just to let me know I imagined it all (or to let me know he's a great bastard as most men are, or he's gay, or he's married with children). This is the end...

But this is the end of THAT story only. Ordinary people can't afford to enter History but they can enter stories, real stories, the stories you don't find in serious books. So, here I am, once again, at the beginning of this post, of of the whole blog, once again, to tell you what brunettes do better...this was the main topic of this blog after all. Now, there are many things one can take into account while analysing a social and cultural phenomenon as the problem of "natural blond vs natural brunette" is and always will be but...but what? This post was meant to explain the reaction to the letter. Whose reaction? Captain America's or the brunette girl's? If the former, I'd better not write any more and go to have an abundant breakfast with no regrets, if the latter, there is still a question to be answered: what did the brunette girl do? And what is she doing now, after such a big failure? Let's have a look at what's happening in a small and messy room in far and fair Earthsea...

The room is almost dark. Only a small desk-lamp lights the messy surroundings. The brunette girl is working on her computer. The three desks in the room are full of books, essays and sheets of paper. Here and there are hints of her life outside the big walls of higher education: a dirty coffee mug, a silent mobile phone, an old bus ticket, a colourful hippy-style necklace. She is quiet and clean as a bright newly-washed stove after the making of a great supper. What about the cook? Is she/he as quiet and clean as the sink? That's none of our business...it's the brunette girl the object of our attention and devotion, at this moment. The phone rings...it's mum, uncle died. Uncle. Died. Two words, apparently meaningless in their own essence. A rude and sharp irony...to die, to dye. Uncle, hair. Dyed hair. Died hair. Died uncle. Dyed hair hide any girl's pain, dyed hair hide died uncle, dyed hair hide the brunette girl from life. Her hair is natural brunette now, short and sharp and dark. She's going to dye it today by herself. She herself is going to die today. In this big global supermarket, of the world there are small deaths, medium-size deaths and large deaths. The brunette girl is going to take advantage of one of life's discounts, a present for her newly-reached goal: the 100th lesson without swearing in front of her stupid students! Now she can have the 2x3 offer of the day: pay two, lose three. Red-dyed hair. Dark-dyed photo of Captain America in Never Never Land. Black-dyed and far image of died uncle you'll never hug again. Died hair. Died guy. Died uncle. S. M. L.

The letter

Another thing brunettes - or this brunette at least - do better is writing letters, I think...that's why I decided to write a letter for the t-shirt guy. [drama mode/on]He's in the United States right now and the brunette girl is miles and miles away, on the other side of the ocean, waiting for a question that never came. He doesn't have her address. They were too drunk on the last night to exchange addresses. But the brunette girl is a perfect detective (have you ever seen a blond girl so self-confident and determined???) and found his mail address. Will he find the answers to his silent question in the letter the brunette girl is going to send him? Will he reply? Will they get to keep in touch, in the end?[drama mode/off]Please, my dear "commentators" and visitors, feel free to comment!!

[drama mode/on]

Blablabla has just received a strange letter from his mum. He has received a letter from Earthsea, a letter from a mysterious girl to him!!! He's really curious. Lots of faces and places pop up within his mind: whose can this letter be? He opens carefully the envelope, trying to find among those faces in his mind the one his heart wishes. He sits in front of the window in his college room. The sun light passes through the brown-yellow curtain and draws strange shadows on his face. He begins to read and it's like his eyes want to eat the ink...

[Titanic OST/on]

Dear Blablabla,
it’s Brunette Girl from Earthsea. We met in Never Never Land and attended the summer school at UCC. I was the brunette girl with that stupid t-shirt saying “Brunette do it better”!!!

His heart sinks...it's the brunette girl! A smile appears on his face.

You’ll probably be surprised to receive this letter of mine…indeed, though we attended a 4 weeks course we just talked for the first time four days before the end of the school – and that’s been really a pity, if I may add. But I realised a few days ago that those little chats have been very significant…I mean, I know that you have two little dogs named after two famous pugilists, that your second name is Bliblibli and that your mother uses that name when she’s angry, and that there is plenty of ladybugs where you live. And you know when I got my tattoo and why and that I punch walls when I’m drunk…it’s really amazing, because if I think of the other people I met in Nevr Never Land I hardly know where they live and what they study, though we are keeping in touch almost daily. That’s why I decided to write this letter to you…though we shared such completely useless information about ourselves I found that information so interesting that I’d like to keep in touch, at least to know something more “ordinary” about Bla Bli Ble, who loves Jameson whisky and German philosophers.

He laughs and looks at the ceiling, remembering the cute tattoo she has on her wrist. He remembers perfectly the night in which he found the courage to ask her about her tattoo. He looked like an idiot in his shy efforts to keep the conversation up, but she seemed to enjoy the chat anyway. She was so nice in her total-black dress.
I’m realising just now that there is a chance you don’t want to know anything about me nor keep in touch…actually, I wouldn’t trust at all someone who wears stupid t-shirts and punches walls in an alcohol delirium but I’m a really quiet and nice person in my ordinary life, and actually more “serious” than I acted in Nevr Never Land!!!. For example, at the moment, I’m fighting with my brain to write two papers about Shakespeare. I applied for a job as an English teacher and cooked my famous tasty pasta salad for dinner. And I’m too shy to tell you I really hope you’ll keep in touch after this letter. Though you probably remember me as the most loud and noisy girl in the course I’d like you to know that I’m extremely shy and that’s why it took me two months to write this letter. And that’s why I almost fainted when I invited you for a whisky in my flat in Cork…well, actually, it wasn’t properly because I was inviting YOU…. I must confess I almost fainted when I had to talk to Ms. Breen about my Ph.D thesis as well!!
…well, I’d better stop now otherwise you’ll think I’m crazy rather than shy! I hope you’ll reply to this…strange…letter. If you don’t want to, take good care of yourself and be merry.
[Titanic OST/off]

His face says that he is the happiest guy in the world. He has her address now and will write soon, very soon. With a smile shining on his face he goes towards his desk to take a sheet of paper.[drama mode/off]

Brunettes do it better?

It's been a long time since I wrote my first (and last) post...perhaps, deciding to write a blog in English wasn't exactly a good idea. Anyway, here we are, at last.
Brunettes do it better! This is the striking title I chose for this mad adventure.
Brunettes do it better! It's what a babydoll electric pink t-shirt I bought two months ago in Cork says.
Brunettes do it better! It's a t-shirt I bought to make a cute American boy ask me "what does a brunette girl do better?"
The question never came but I've been trying since then to find a suitable answer...just in case he asks!
The answer is....I have no idea, folk! I thought for a while of being able to reply with those silly flirty answers such as, "Why don't you find out?" but I realised I'm not that kind of girl. I'm so damnedly serious. A damnedly serious guy and a damnedly serious girl aren't the perfect match.
So here I am, with an electric pink t-shirt I'm so ashamed to wear...and a new blog!
A new blog in which I want to explore what a brunette girl (that is ME!!) can do better! Cooking? Studying? Teaching? Writing? Annoying? Listening? Drawing?
Only time will tell us. Or dreams perhaps...are the dreams that come true worthier than all others? Do they tell us what we are better at? Or do dream come true by chance? If so...we can be happy only by chance, or because of fate...
No, no, no...the question is "What does a brunette girl do better?". Today's answer is......studying! Damned Shakespeare's HENRY V!!!

Ladies and gentlemen.......the beginning!!!