legate of false trances

Job market so bad I started following my dreams

OKAY i've read all 162 one-star review of the aeneid on goodreads. can i show you my favourite?

this website is always on some stupid insular drama where some idiot blogger named poobster-498 has said something controversial and stupid and then the most mediocre critical thinkers of the website get together and decide that everybody in the world can be categorized into pro-poobster or anti-poobster camps. and they invent fake slurs for each other like the pro-poobsters are called poobshits and the anti-poobsters are called pooblerites. and people will send you asks demanding that you clarify where you stand on poobster and "I've never heard of this person and I don't care about this at all" is an unacceptable answer to either side of this inane drama and automatically fashions you into a member of whichever opposing camp. when in reality you just truly have no idea who the fuck poobster-498 even is.

30 minute yoga flow to unblock your posting chakra and release deeply buried posts

I know for a fact not everyone living in NYC is that goofy looking i just don't understand why that blog only posts people who look like they got dressed from a series of clothes lines in people's back yards during a humorous slapstick foot chase scene

actually they're only called oysters if they're fished a bit further east. you're eating wusters

sometimes cultural differences are really small things. it's the name of a cleaning spray. it's professional long-arm quilting services. it's the direction of the sea. it's how you prepare the same coffee. and there is a temptation, because these are small things that don't feel like A Cultural Tradition Requiring Respect, to argue over which thing is right. because we need to be right about something. shoes off in the house. how to eat with a fork. small things. but the small things are the culture, and you have to treat people decently in the small things.

my high horse is actually awesome and fast like the wind

part of being an adult is figuring out what eveyone else's definition of "going crazy" is. to you it is not sleeping for 60 hours, writing 80k words in one sitting and expiriencing enough anxiety to kill a horse. to beth from accounting its buying a ticket to Columbus, Ohio. and to your friend its consuming so much ketamine you lose all of your posessions and wake up with five broken bones in a ditch somewhere and then proceeding to do it again the next day. to your other friend its writing a letter to their favourite actress about how much they appreciate her work. to your neighbour its laughing loudly in a grocery store whilst in pajamas. maya from uni hears the voice of her dead father making jokes with no punchlines and she considers that to be quite normal - to her going crazy would be hearing her husband instead. your downstairs neighbour will take night walks naked sometimes and claim there is nothing weird about him. there are literally no rules to life and all meaning is in the eye of the beholder.

c’mon everybody!!! *runs off excitedly and no one follows me*

hmm... this highly personal vent post seems like the perfect place to lay my roleplay egg...