27. Astrophysicist, writer, artist. Michigan. Business inquiries: kaijunobiz@gmail.com
Welp my court date to get evicted unless I can come up with $950 is the 20th
$55/$950
Please help or share if you can!
$105/$950
$225/$950
$305/$950 thank u guys!!!!!!
$355/$950
$360/$950
$380/$950
$400/$950
$420/$950 ayyy lmao
$455/$950
$1155/$950!!!!!! Thank yall so much!!!!!!!
Ah, yes. My Down With Cis shirt came in the mail today. I am ready to fight every cis. Meet me on the fucking bus.
There’s something intensely unhealthy going on when parents discourage age-appropriate independence. A 13 year old should probably be allowed to go see a film with their friends most of the time. A 16 year old should probably be allowed to drive/ride a bus/bike to a friend’s house most of the time. An 18 year old should probably be allowed to travel overnight with their friends most of the time. A 20+ year old should be allowed to come and go as they please, with some common-sense “Let’s talk this ‘move to Finland’ plan of your over before you follow through on it” exceptions.
Parents should want their children to enjoy going out and doing things on their own and with their friends. They should be delighted that their child wants to have a life of their own. A rich, fulfilling life outside the home and distinct from parents and family is important, and parents should want their child to have that.
Her nicknames for me were Byronius and Cock Ring. She once got a text alert from weather.com saying the northern lights were gonna be big… so that night I had to book flights and the next day we were there. When Gary had to pee on a plane she took him and a wee-wee pad into the lavatory and how they worked it out is one of life’s great mysteries. Most of my time with her involved me staring at her, wide-eyed and in blissful shock that one person could live a life so fully. We rode dog sleds in Canada, swam hot springs in Japan, pet koalas in Australia. That’s how she lived. Extraordinary. Brilliant. Hilarious. And generous! Not every assistant job is like that. I was with her for nearly 3 years. Every moment is a treasure, inspiration. I love this woman and will forever. She has been a force in my life from the moment I met her. To this day I think of her constantly. Every memory with her is bursting with color. I feel so lucky, you guys! So! Lucky! But, you know her, too. Because she was exactly the same in private as in public. Authentic. Honest. Real. A champion for mental health, veterans, feminism. She did anything for her family, loved her friends, embodied aliveness. I’ll miss her so, so much. – Byron Lane, Carrie’s former assistant
how it is sometimes:
how it is most of the time:
im hux in the bottom row
Anonymous asked:
In an ideal world violence is never an answer but we don’t live in an ideal world and so if ya need to punch a bitch out that’s what ya gotta do
Anonymous asked:
Depending on your major that’s not usually something that you’ll have to do. Most of the time you just sit and take notes
Witty Street Art
Sydney-based street artist Michael Pederson’s creates quirky street art that is so subtle that it’s easy to walk past it without even knowing it’s there. He encourages people to take a closer look at their streets and neighbourhoods, and second guess some signs. “I think we travel through urban space without really seeing it most of the time,” Pederson told CityLab. “I like the idea of interfering with the overly familiar background blur … Ideally with something a passerby might see out of the corner of an eye.”
I think the problem comes at least partly from people assuming two things:
- that “racist” is a personal insult upon your honour
- that once you’re called “racist”, that’s it, you’re irrevocably racist and your Soul Is Forever Tarnished
and I’m not going to deny that there are people who do use the term in the aforementioned ways, but most of the time it’s just used to tell you that, yes, you are doing/saying something racist, much like calling someone who’s cutting off fingers a “finger cutter” is just saying that they’re, you know, cutting fingers off (and they should stop)
ideally it’d go like this
“black people have the perfect physique and structure to play uruk-hai”
“you’re being pretty racist right now”
“huh, in hindsight that’s actually pretty racist to say, I apologize and I’ll try to think things through a little better in the future”
but a lot of the time it goes like this
“black people have the perfect physique and structure to play uruk-hai”
“you’re being pretty racist right now”
“WELL I GUESS I’LL JUST GO AND STAB A KNIFE THROUGH MY OWN BRAIN NOW SINCE I’M A FUCKING DIRTY MONSTER! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, SJWS?!?!?! YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO SILENCE DISCUSSION!”
really, it’s a copout attitude that focuses on your own feelings instead of engaging the thing you’re doing/saying. fleeing into that comfortable refuge of indignation where you don’t have to think that maybe it’s shitty for white people to wear native american headdresses on halloween, because you’ve been Offended and Dragged Into The Mud and Stabbed In The Heart by the mean mean marginalized people who are calling racism racism
I have a traffic checker for my blog (as any micromanager would) and I have a popular pages tab and some of the most popular pages are “/selfie” “/me” “/my-face” “/self” “/face” and just a thousand-and-one different guesses at to what my selfie tag would be. And I look through these specific IP tags and most of the time they come to my blog and the very first thing they do is try to find my selfie tag
Can y’all maybe not be so damn creepy
Her nicknames for me were Byronius and Cock Ring. She once got a text alert from weather.com saying the northern lights were gonna be big… so that night I had to book flights and the next day we were there. When Gary had to pee on a plane she took him and a wee-wee pad into the lavatory and how they worked it out is one of life’s great mysteries. Most of my time with her involved me staring at her, wide-eyed and in blissful shock that one person could live a life so fully. We rode dog sleds in Canada, swam hot springs in Japan, pet koalas in Australia. That’s how she lived. Extraordinary. Brilliant. Hilarious. And generous! Not every assistant job is like that. I was with her for nearly 3 years. Every moment is a treasure, inspiration. I love this woman and will forever. She has been a force in my life from the moment I met her. To this day I think of her constantly. Every memory with her is bursting with color. I feel so lucky, you guys! So! Lucky! But, you know her, too. Because she was exactly the same in private as in public. Authentic. Honest. Real. A champion for mental health, veterans, feminism. She did anything for her family, loved her friends, embodied aliveness. I’ll miss her so, so much. – Byron Lane, Carrie’s former assistant
