Teenage Angst and Commas @bunnyscribe - Tumblr Blog

#this gets no explanation #to my friends who I have not talked to at length about Victorian surgery about #you’re next #Joesph lister

teaboot

My mom likes to tell me about how when I was a little kid riding public transport with her I'd always smile and giggle and chat with weird old ladies who smelled like cat pee and homeless folks and strangers dressed in bizarre outfits but any time a tidy and respectable businessman in a suit and tie waved at me I'd immediately clam up, and she takes a great deal of pride in my supposed inherentability to clock personalities but the truth is I do vaguely remember those bus rides, and it was never about the clothes or the hair or the smell, but more because everyone "strange" asked interesting questions and listened to what I had to say and seemed to think about what I said while the neat and tidy and rigid folks only ever acted like they were going through the motions, which was boring as hell and also pretty annoying

teaboot

Well-to-do finance manager with tidy shoes: "Why hello, sweetheart. Can you say 'hi'? Aren't you cute. Are you on a trip with your mom?"

4 year old me: why must we do this

Fantastic old woman in the leopard print coat: "Why yes, my tooth IS real silver! Nobody ever asks me that. Do you like cats?"

4 year old me, suddenly paying attention: Finally, A Person Of Intellect

demilypyro

I ain't performing squat, buddy

too-lazy-to-make-a-username

gender is a performance only for the novices.. once you fully mastered gender, it is no longer a performance, whatever you do becomes what your gender does

fforsythiaaa

Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”

So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”

Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.

Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.

eixd-deactivated20150710

The rest of the space is going to be pretty pissed when they see this.

thesassycat

did you google how to take a screen shot

eixd-deactivated20150710

YES I GOOGLED HOW TO TAKE A SCREEN SHOT FIGHT ME

iapislazuli

when i was at walgreens (at 3 in the morning which explains all of this) the cashier was talking to her coworker about how shed rather be a werewolf than a vampire because vampires are condemned to hell but werewolves arent and then she asked me what i thought and i said vampire because im already condemned to hell and she said in the nicest tone of voice “i dont think anybody is condemned to hell….” paused, stared at me for a few moments, and added on “…not even gay people”

iapislazuli

Happy pride month to the filthiest most brutal read I’ve ever been given in my life

avadaniels

"Scrooge learns the true meaning of Bisexual Awareness Week" Make Some Noise Season 3 Episode 11

reagan-slayer69

“but what if you abort the baby who’ll cure cancer?!” sir the baby who will cure cancer is an organic chemistry major who works at a Home Depot because you use AI to go through your resumes

mel-155-a

"I am, somehow, less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops." - Stephen Jay Gould, The Panda's Thumb: More Reflections in Natural History

thisisalovestry

file -> phrases that are going to shift something in me forever

insomniparty

clytemnestraaa

i feel. like on a fundamental level. i do not understand x reader fic. i am not exactly opposed to it because let a thousand blossoms bloom etc. but like. i genuinely don’t get it. it seems like the exact opposite of how i engage with fiction. like the whole point is that i’m not in there. i don’t wanna be in there. if i’m in there it’s going to be very stressful.

rexuality

i have a story for you, tumblr. last year my coworkers and I were riding in a golf cart at a music festival passing out drinks to people, because the festival had been cancelled that day and everyone was trying to make the best of a bad situation. after some time we spot a guy on the other side of the road dressed as lord farquaad, walking alone. we yell, “LORD FARQUAAD! DO YOU WANT A DRINK??” dude yells an affirmative, walks into the road without looking, gets hit by a fucking car, and goes flying.

I really need you to picture a lord farquaad being dummy yeeted into the air by an incoming vehicle while a golf cart of inebriated, glitter and mud plastered coworkers are full-on horror movie screaming together. before we can even process this, lord farquaad gets up like 🤪 how bout that drink?? completely okay, utterly unphased, red hat and bob wig still locked the fuck in. we check on him several times, all talking over each other, and while he’s calmly and pleasantly assuring us he’s fine, he passes each one of us a tiny jesus figurine. he bestows a “god bless you all” and then resumes his jaunt, drink in hand.

after that we drove in total relieved hysterics, the kinda laughter that only happens when you narrowly avoided catastrophe. and i have NO idea if the driver that hit him even said a word because my entire consciousness in that moment was farquaad, there was only farquaad. I hope that he reads this one day and knows that he is STILL talked about and regarded as some sort of festival cryptid. we are blessed indeed