Cool. Coolcoolcool.
They’re like the little brothers I never had or wanted
She’s like the older sister I always wanted to nail.
I’m dying.
To protect the world from boring fashion,
To dress all people with flash and passion,
To give all Pokémon pretty faces,
To extend our art to outer spaces,
When it comes to chic, we know what’s right,
Surrender your taste or prepare to fight.
Post-it #3
Shuffling along to class, I spotted a couple suitcase-toting monks doling out bound stacks of printed paper for passing students to toss into trashcans on their way up the hill. I am not certain why the monks did not dump the paper themselves, but it was dumped at an alarming rate all the same. A handful of like-minded folk of their own respective faith practices makes semi-regular appearances on campus; and if my age group didn’t have an innate aversion to being preached at, I would applaud them. These monks do, however, have a sort of social constitution that really impresses me. The larger strategy is ineffective, sure, but on an individual level, I am a bit stunned. To force an introduction upon one student after another and each time get cut short by a cheap out— “I’ve gotta run to class,” takes some kind of resolve. I see it, and I do the same, so they must expect it. These people are either so convicted or so numb that they can do this all day, fully knowing most people won’t give a good goddamn. Is this deserving of respect? The line between ambition and ignorance is microscopic. Or maybe fuzzy. The difference is slight, whatever.
I have recently begun to slip into the ditzy conversational pitfall that is throwing up the hands and calling “Don’t judge.” I admit that it is an easy go-to when you anticipate being told that the things you enjoy should be a source of embarrassment, but— geuuuhhh! Never mind that we are so wracked with concern for everyone’s approval of what we do. We are making judgments all of the time, automatically. Our brains are equipped for it. Moreover, casting judgment could be in favor of the objected. That it has assumed this automatic negative connotation baffles me. I am baffled. We could all afford to be a bit more inventive with our language on-the-fly, but it’s just too easy to reach into our sweaty, wrinkled sacks of cliché.
I had every intention of bringing these two ideas into one, but the how has slipped my mind. Hrm. Help yourselves.
This is the fastest way to put me in a great mood.
I know with all certainty that magic sounds just like this.
The resolution of Hook becomes more disappointing the more thought I put to it. Everyone can agree that Neverland is an infinitely more wonderful place than any part of this earth in 1991. And after watching the movie most recently, I realize that we are made to want Peter to stay. Without ever cutting back to what would have been an awful mess of a household for his wife and Wendy, we forget just as he did that there even is a flight-less real world. That is, until his dumb kids are like, “Dad, over here, man.” Besides, Julia Roberts is a goddess. I wish she’d always love me in that time between when I’m asleep and when I’m just waking up, when I still remember dreaming. Damn.
Found this on Facebook…
Stupid cancer. We all want a new car, a new phone. A person who has cancer only wants one thing… to survive. I know that a lot of you “who think you’re too cool” probably won’t re-post this. But a very little amount of my friends will. Put this on your wall in honor of someone who died of cancer, survived, or who is fighting against it now ♥
So pathetic. Re-post this and be hated by me.
Do work.
I belong in a classroom. What I know is moving through and between grades of schooling, not clocking in and out of regular work. I’m pushing closer to the end of my educational career at an until-recently steady pace (having dropped from 15 to 12 hours in the interest of keeping my cool in the face of upper-level Art History classes and a mostly unfriendly work schedule), but I am not nearly ready to give up my being a student. I’m doing it pretty damn well, too. Or I was.
When before difficulty only arose from my own refusal to commit to doing real work, now I’m anticipating some complication from my abomination of a sleep routine. Working nights in Minton should force me into some kind of nocturnal rhythm, but I want too badly to continue to operate during the day. I am genuinely excited by my lineup this semester, and so it feels like such a loss to have to drag myself through a class from which I very much want to reap valuable knowledge. I do not want to sleep. Not during class, and not through daylight. Accomplishment is satisfying, and because I cannot readily see the difference from being rested to dredging forward, today I move at a snail’s pace toward accomplishment. Stupid, stupid.
This video starts to intensely distract from the fun of listening to the song about halfway through. Try the ol’ one-two-minimize trick, and then maybe take a peek the second time around.
