Never forget to smile

when I say I want cute clothes I mean an adult version of what preppy toddlers wear and not feminine business casual. search engines don't know this

'Revenge is bad' to YOU. i love when a character destroys everyone who wronged them. i love when they get to bite and maim and tear and rip and scratch and kill. Sorry ur catholic about it but i'm different

Being a crafty person and making a bunch of things often prompts people to ask "oh wow did you make that?" And like, the short answer is: yes I did, but the long answer is: well, no, the pattern isn't mine, but I did choose and buy the fabric/yarn and sewed it together/crocheted it/knitted it myself. I used a reference for that drawing/painting, I didn't come up with it myself. That ceramic piece was insired by a poem and a painting made by different people. What I'm trying to say is, everything I make requires other people to make their own thing first, and then I get inspired by them to do my own thing. So I can't really call anything truly mine, because really it's just a bunch of inspirations and experiences of others (and me) put together by my hands. Does that answer your question

Truly the best way to put the experience into words. The cycle of creativity, genuine human art, is defined by continuous inspiration and observation that leads to the creation of something new from a thousand different things. And isn't wonderful? Isn't beautiful to say that yes I made it but it isn't "mine". Because it is shared, it is yours as much as mine as much as the poet whose prose pushed me to bring something new into the world. It is a part of the tapestry I saw in a museum photo six years ago and the silly scrap of driftwood I saw on the beach. And isn't it amazing that humans have these moments? It's perhaps one of the few things we got right, and isn't that lovely?

Everyone needs three hobbies: one to give you carpel tunnel, one to leave you sore and bruised, and one for your distant relatives to insist you monetize

Jerking off. Falling down the stairs. Fixing the wifi.

i need to get off tumblr i’m at the aquarium admiring the fish and my brain goes “posts that make you want to get in the water” what are you talking about. these are live fish in the room with you. what post.

"when people ask how you're doing, they don't really care." most of them do, actually, the amount they care is just directly proportional to how well they know you. you're just mad you can't be the main character of the Twice Daily.

if i am doing shitty and the check out girl asks me, "how are you?" i will say,"man, i've been better." we are strangers to each other. she doesn't need to know my whole life story. she doesn't need to know about my credit score and my hemorrhoids or my uncle in the hospital. she just needs enough to respond "been there, buddy. hey, at least the day is almost over?" and then we part ways. i have been on both sides of thousands of exchanges like this, the only one making you do a little song and dance is you, my friend