This is your sign that things will be okay. 🌙
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shark vs the universe
The Bowery Presents
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
noise dept.
$LAYYYTER
hello vonnie

Product Placement
EXPECTATIONS

tannertan36
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NASA
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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pixel skylines

izzy's playlists!

Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
KIROKAZE
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#extradirty

Love Begins

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@happylikeabird
This is your sign that things will be okay. 🌙
Chibird store | Positive pin club | Webtoon
are you a philosopher
boy im dumb as shit
“boy im dumb as shit” is just rephrased Socrates’s “I know that I know nothing“ so whats the truth
i will find, one day, the words that are correct. and i will sew them perfectly into my skin and they will sink into the past and they will stitch together a little broken girl and i will be healed altogether.
what would i say to her? 16 and shivering. i’d tell her the truth - we missed the ten year anniversary of our attempt because we were too busy and too full of life and so happy that we no longer count hours in crescents. there will be a lot of people who tell you it is worth it, that it gets better, but you will not believe them. little mouse, it is not easy. you will break down so many times you will have a fondness for rock bottom. you will become soul tethered to sisyphus, feeling yourself push the burden of your baggage up-and-up-and-up, over and over, each season like a metronome.
i would like to tell you do your homework or make more friends or try laughter instead. but we are older now, my love, and the world is different. tiny things seem silly now. instead, if there’s anything - just, while you’re there, look around. you do not have to like where you are. you do not have to squeeze juice out of the rotten core of your weeks. instead, take note of the changing of leaves. of how many clouds were worth noting. of bees and butterflies and hands that hold. one day you will miss just-being-home. one day your memories will flatten like a well-worn stone. keep a few, if you can, of the smell of baking and of loam.
people will tell you just live for right now, but you will not be able to do that, because your life is a wound and it needs to bleed. live, instead, if you can, just for me. for being 27 and loving green tea and a job worth doing and people in your phone you can call at any minute and having a dog you rescued and two tattoos and friends you can lay in bed with while all three of you read. for being in love with birds and having beaten another pokemon game and for learning your new favorite joke. we end up living only so our mother won’t be sad - and she’s doing great. she’s happy. they live up in maine now, isn’t that funny. but live, a little, just for me.
i sometimes, weakly, regret all the things that have been taken from me. i could have been a doctor! i could have a steady job! I could have gone to so many things! instead i was panicked or hungry or sobbing or so numb i could have been an ice rink.
but we never regret being here. we never regret what we gained in the bargain. you get to go to weddings (you’ll love her, i promise) and carnivals and graduations and halloween parties and you will love, wholeheartedly, all of it. one by one each emotion will come crawling back and one day you’ll realize you laugh without faking it. you just laugh. you experience movie-like joy so easily. can you believe that people call you bubbly? it’s lovely, what you’re waiting for. we have access to art supplies and good food and ice cream (it’s diary free - while you’re young, eat as much you can, just trust me).
when you’re 22, a friend will tell you - tomorrow might be the best day of my life. people’s luck changes all the time. maybe tomorrow i will make friends with bill gates. maybe tomorrow i’ll rescue a tiger from a cage. maybe today i make a small change, and by three weeks from now, i’m running the city under a new name.
the truth is that, at 27, you don’t live for tomorrow anymore. you don’t white-knuckle brace-for-it, hope-it-gets-better-somehow. you just wake up, and grab a coffee, and laugh about dumb things, and listen to your music too loudly. the world in 10 years will taste like honey.
keep living. keep going. just trust me.
How to surreptitiously stretch within reach of kisses
(via)
[source: https://twitter.com/nasacertified/status/1273798595314167814]
#watching this monkey peel of the stringy bits#drop them on the baby’s head#meticulously remove them#and clean off the stump#then wolf down that banana#is just really great#like a fussy little person
I remember seeing them perform this live on my campus.. My jaw dropped within 10 seconds.
Captions for this video below since they talk really fast and can be hard to understand! I struggled myself a bit, so let me know if I messed up on anything!
A black man and a white woman take the stage together to perform a slam poem.
Both speak together in unison for the first few words, before the black man begins feigning shock, as though he suddenly lost the ability to speak, though he continues mouthing along as she speaks. The poem begins:
“The first day I realized I was black. It was 2000. We had just learned about blacks for the first time in second grade. At recess, all the white kids chased me into the woods, chanting ‘slave.’ My mother said I refused to come out for three hours. She said she thinks I was lost in the trees, but I just needed to be closer to my roots.”
Both begin speaking in unison for a few words again, before this time, the white woman feigns loss of speech, but continues mouthing along just as the black man did before. He continues speaking:
“As a woman, having a boyfriend is a battle. If 70% of us are abused in a lifetime, what is the number of men doing it? The answer is not one man, running faster than light to complete a mission, and that is what leaves me sick.”
Again, the white woman begins speaking as the black man mouths along.
“The second day I realized I was black was in a gas station. I only had twenty five cents, so I searched for what to spend it on. The cashier floated from isle to isle, eyes fixed on my hands.”
The black man begins speaking again, and they continue in unison.
“That was the first time I realized skin color was a crime.”
Now the black man continues speaking as the white woman mouths along with him again.
“My body has become cause to write legislation. Cause for ass smacks in the back of a class. My body has demanded everything except respect. I’ve been asked, ‘what makes you feel unsafe?’ And I struggle not to yell ‘everything!’”
They switch again, so the white woman is now speaking as the black man mouths along.
“The third time I realized I was black was in an all white cafeteria. I gathered my legs under me, made rockets of my feet, and approached a girl. She told me she was not into ‘my type of guy.’ I felt the words shoot daggers into my melanin. I have never wanted to disappear so bad.”
They switch so the black man is speaking and the white woman is mouthing along.
“As a woman, I’ve learned to answer to everything except my name. ‘Little lady’ is not said to mean ‘equal,’ but to make sure I remember my place. I battle between wanting to own my body, and accepting there is a one-in-four chance a man will lay claim to my skin, a plot of land for the taking.”
Now the white woman speaks as the black man mouths along.
“The last day I realized I was black was in an elevator in California. To the white woman that told me she knows what it feels like to be black because she grew up poor:”
They speak now in unison.
“I would tell you to think before you speak.”
The black man begins mouthing along again.
“But your mind has got to be bacteria infected. And any filter through that labyrinth of nothingness might be worse than no thought at all.”
Now he speaks as she mouths.
“There’s a group of women going around the room, sharing their personal definition of feminism. He is the only man in the room, and all of a sudden, the tone switches to destroying the patriarchy by annihilating all men.”
She speaks now as he mouths.
“Do you know what it feels like to be black? To pop lock your way in and out of hugs? It is not a problem you want to sympathize.”
They speak in unison.
“But to tell me that you know my pain is-”
He falls silent again and mouths along as she continues speaking.
“-to stab yourself in the leg because you saw me get shot. We have two different wounds, and looking at yours does nothing to heal mine.”
She now mouths along as he speaks.
“Never will I turn away an ally.”
She speaks.
“But when a man speaks on my behalf, it only proves my point!”
He speaks.
“Movements are driven by passion, not by asserting yourself dominant by a world that already puts you there.”
They speak in unison.
“You speak to know pain that you only fathom because we told you it was there. You know nothing of silence until someone who cannot know your pain tells you how to fix it.”
They continue to speak in unison, but now slowly back away from the microphones with their arms held straight out to their sides, parallel to the ground, to mimic the pose of Jesus on the cross, in order to highlight the next line.
“Every day is a crucification. But there is no regards for lives crossed.”
They now quickly swap places and return to the microphones. This is symbolic of them switching places to speak for themselves and not each other. The white woman begins speaking alone.
“I fight so my voice can be heard. I fight for the voices you silence, all in the name of what is right.”
They speak in unison for a few words before he speaks alone as she mouths along again.
“The problem is, you assume the struggles attached to a social class. I am black, and bold, and beautiful by nature. Ain’t no income that can change that.”
She begins the next sentence alone.
“The problem with speaking up for each other-”
He speaks alone.
“is that everyone is left-”
They speak in unison.
“without a voice.”
This is the end of the poem. The audience cheers as the Button Poetry logo appears on the screen, followed by the logo for the “Association of College Unions International.”
Reblogging again because of the captions
friendship IS romance : 1. / 2. / 3. fleabag / 4. / 5. / 6. / 7. / 8. a little life, hanya yanagihara / 9. / 10.
I don’t know what we did to deserve Mr. Rogers but I’m so glad we had him.
“It took me a long time to learn that mistakes aren’t good or bad, they’re just mistakes, and you clean them up and go on.”
— Kaye Gibbons (via quotemadness)
why is yikes plural. why so many yike
“My first love was some insignificant boy when it should have been myself.”
—
You’re home. (via pinterest)
So the subplot of Holes is that Kate Barlow deals with the politically-sanctioned execution of her black boyfriend—who unlawfully kissed a white woman who was in love with him!!!—by becoming a serial killer who targets racist/sexist white dudes who harassed her, were rejected, then went after her boyfriend as revenge from the depths of the “friend zone”.
Go off Louis Sachar, let em know!
Don’t forget the main plot was a damning satire of the brokenness and inherent racism of the American justice and prison systems! Louis Sachar does not fuck about
It always fuck me up that older people don’t understand how this story is as essential to most american children as Gone with the Wind or Mary Poppins was.
unironically, this is one of the best books/movies for young people that exists
Kissing Kate Did Nothing Wrong
And the technical writing of Holes is perfect. Like, it’s one of the most technically-perfect books ever written. Basically any plotting or pacing or characterization issue you’re having, read Holes and really study how Sachar did it. THE LIZARDS! THE LIZARDS.
the twisty prophecies! the lizards! the lipstick! the humor! this book doesn’t play. a true classic.