"How do you do it?" "There's not really a choice."
One Nice Bug Per Day
dirt enthusiast
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Love Begins
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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todays bird
noise dept.
Stranger Things

JVL

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
i don't do bad sauce passes

@theartofmadeline
h
ojovivo
No title available
YOU ARE THE REASON

Origami Around

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@lastarpeggios
"How do you do it?" "There's not really a choice."
I'm turning 33 on Monday and I really do not want to.
Non, non, non, non 🇫🇷🙏
▶️ Go to Dropout.tv to watch the s4 Make Some Noise special now!
Take a look at some of the bits and prompts that were left on the cutting room floor for season 4. Content Warning: Comedic Bit Referencin
(three decades into my life) sorry I wasn’t paying attention, can we start again?
No sirens Her body houses secrets behind a wall of servitude that now crumbles, bones unable to any longer carry the suffering. It’s not a bursting, but a slow dripping of doubt into the cement of her being: her faith uprooted in the face of death. A memory escapes: a baby in cottonwool, held for a second before covering it up again by not wanting to be a burden. No sirens, she says, when we call the ambulance. I remember when I first was taller, laughing at her shrinking.
Geen Sirenes Haar lichaam huist geheimen achter een muur van dienstbaarheid die nu afbrokkelt, de botten kunnen het lijden niet langer dragen. Het is geen open-barsting, maar een traag sijpelen van twijfel in het cement van haar zijn, haar geloof ontworteld in oog met de dood. Een herinnering ontsnapt: een baby in watten, wordt even gedragen en dan opnieuw toegedekt, met niet tot last willen zijn. Geen sirenes, zeg ze, wanneer we de ambulance bellen. Ik weet nog wanneer ik voor het eerst groter was, lachend met haar krimpen.
*screams into the void* "APOLITICAL IS NOT A THING
All of Us Strangers Dir. Andrew Haigh (2023)
I got 60 out of 1000 😂
Based on the number of ratings each book has on Goodreads. And if you haven't read them, maybe you can use for a literature bucket list.
Anyone who says they’ve read all 1000 is a liar because one of them is a huge cookbook and no one is actively joy reading that.
with some of these it’s like “fuck, I did read that,” and with some it’s like “Oh fuck, I did read that.”
I got 99, but I counted a few that I had only mostly-read before deciding I didn’t like them and never finishing them.
I feel horrible. I've been awake, texting everyone I care about because I'm panicked, grieving and I feel so alone. Nobody is awake over here, and most of my friends have babies or toddlers, who can I call in the middle of the night?
It's a time when I need people the most.
I can't handle the combination of this grief, the heaviness of my job, as well as being so lonely. It's too much.
I saw my ex a lot lately. He was at the funeral. And I felt so vulnerable around him. I had missed him so much. My first instinct was to text him, when I got that phone call. I didn't, because I try to put distance between us, knowing how much it hurts me to hear he's moving on. But I've still been seeing him more, by accident, at a time when I'm in so much pain, seeing someone who once meant the world, who would've taken me into his arms and comforted me, to whom I would've been able to talk to about the loss of this person.
Then he told me he has a girlfriend. And my world shattered. It makes me physically sick.
How is that possible? So soon? When I'm still stuck in the same place. How can he share that part of himself with someone else?
I try to date. I try to be sociable and open but it's so difficult to find a single man that fits me, that I feel at ease with, that has the sensitivity and depth that I so need in any relationship.
I didn't for 29 years. Why would I now, four years later?
I have been lonely for so long. To be with him was the best I've ever felt.
But 3 years now feels so short compared to the weight of those 29+1 years.
It's hard to keep my hopes up.
I really would rather give up trying.
A colleague of mine passed away suddenly.
I had a day off today and got a call from another colleague. I could not believe it. I didn't hear his name right. I thought it was one of my clients. I started seeing all of them in my mind, one by one. Which of them would it be? But then it turned out to be a colleague.
Afterwards I got to work as fast as I could. Hoping to share my grief with others who knew him.
I went to his office, a room I've been in countless of times, and sat there. Trying to retain his smell, his face, my memory of him. His smile, his patience, his knowledge. He was a rock, he knew everything. When I became a team coach, he was the one I could turn to for help. Even though I get along with all of my colleagues, all of them empathetic and kind, he was the one I could lean on, with all of his vast experience. He was the one I could always go to with whatever question I had. There was something unbreakable about him. He was always the same. Always wearing a black tee. Always kind, patient, conciliatory. Hardly ever confrontational.
I've been feeling the pendulum swing, from disbelief to deep grief to distraction/exhaustion and back.
Who are YOU 🫵 inviting to the party?
▶️ Watch new Make Some Noise on Dropout.tv!
Ben, Lisa, and Colton antagonize Sam Reich for 42 minutes. Content Warning: Emetophobia (Mimicking regurgitation) - [33:29-33:39] Comedic
🎶 Watch them wiggle and watch them work! 🎶
➡️ Go to Dropout.tv to watch new Make Some Noise now:
Ben, Lisa, and Colton antagonize Sam Reich for 42 minutes. Content Warning: Emetophobia (Mimicking regurgitation) - [33:29-33:39] Comedic
me: i can't do anything... i don't know what my life is anymore...
the jacob wysocki tulpa manifesting inside my brain:
when James Baldwin said I can’t be a pessimist because I’m alive
when James Baldwin said to be a pessimist means that you have agreed that human life is an academic matter. So I am forced to be an optimist. I am forced to believe that we can survive whatever we must survive.
Um, the shredder jammed.
Robert Mapplethorpe & Patti Smith © Norman Seeff (1969)
I asked my grandmother is she was afraid of dying
"Actually, I am." she answered
When I asked, having known her to be a devout catholic all her life
if it comforted her to think she might meet her mother again, whom she so dearly missed
(and her daughter, I later remembered, but forgot to ask, and now regret that I didn't)
She said, in a quiet voice, more to herself than to me, that she had started having some doubts, about whether there's anything there after all; by anything I think she meant "Him" and also "Heaven"
my devout grandmother, my quiet grandmother, my grandmother who'll take into her grave all of her own quiet fear and suffering, who has believed in God and Heaven all her life, and who, in the face of illness and death, of her family and ultimately the collapse of her own body, has started to doubt everything she believed in
and I can't forget the idea that she will pass, carrying that existential doubt, that crushes the pillars she built her life upon
and how terrifying that must be, and how lonely.