*hitting my brain with a rolled up newspaper* I am allowed to be annoying! I am allowed to be wrong! I am allowed to take up space! Not! Everyone! Has! To! Like! Me!

being an adult is just saying to yourself “this is the weekend i’ll clean my [x]” and then proceeding to not do that because it’s the weekend and you deserve to relax, goddamnit

as a child i assumed that martha’s vineyard was a fancy private vineyard owned by martha stewart and the reason rich people vacationed there was because they were friends with martha

you know those studies showing that cursing helps with pain tolerance or whatever. that’s how i feel about making my weird little noises to get through my basic daily activities. sometimes you just have to go hggblaaaah for a minute so you can find the strength within yourself to get up or wash the dishes or send an email. mmmnneh. urgh. the torments are unending but you can always make some little sounds about it.

yes i am smart. yes i am stupid. it’s called being flexible.

fuck i forgot to partake in handmade crafts and whimsy

there is the line between bisexual and aroace and i am using it as a jump rope

any tips for developing discipline? ive been going through life on a lackadaisical hedonist build but ive got a bunch of mysterious problems that i may or may not be at fault for

I live a very balanced life of noticing things nobody else does and not noticing the things that literally everybody notices

one of my creative writing professors once said that to evaluate a work as good or not, first you ask what the work is attempting to do, and then you evaluate how well it does it. and this is how to judge everything from critical essays to romance novels to snack packaging to theory tracts.

"next time, log in faster with fingerprint/face/iris recognition!" how about i keep typing my password like i have for the past 25 years and you fuck off

rebecca black was right. It’s Friday