“this is my lucky guitar pick. I played my first show with it and I’ve carried it around ever since for goodluck. I hope it brings you the luck it has for me.”
even when I’m feeling beaten down, broken, and lost. it’s things like this from my amazing followers never fails to put life back in perspective for me. you didn’t leave your url and I really wanted to publicly thank you for making my day, this meant the world with me and I intend to take it everywhere with me thankyou so much.💖
1: Kitchen Counter, Couch, or on top of the dryer? I’ve eaten ramen noodles in all these places. 2: Your last sexual encounter: Good or Bad and why: Bad. They got my order wrong. Taco Bell drive thru’s are my only sexual encounters. 3: A fictional person that you think would be good in bed: My boyfriend. Get it? I don’t have one. 4: Something that never fails to make you horny: pulling around to the next drive thru window. 5: Where is one place you would never have sex: My vagina 6: The most awkward moment during a sexual experience was when we made eye contact 7: Weirdest thing that ever made you horny: being caught in rush hour traffic. I will use this horn. 8: What is the best way to sexually bind someone: Handcuffs, Rope, or Other [if other please explain]: marriage. 9: What is the fastest way to make you horny: Not using your blinker 10: Top or bottom? Top ramen. Bottom shelf cereal. 11: We were about to ____________ but then ______________ be together forever / he dumped me. 12: Is one orgasm enough? Are multiple orgasms necessary? please use this word in a sentence? 13: Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find: my college degree. 14: Weirdest nickname a significant other has ever called you: nobody significant has ever called me. 15: Two things you like [or dislike] about oral sex: people. 16: Weirdest sexual act some has performed [or tried to perform] on/with you: leaving me a voicemail. 17: Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?] I have great taste in shoes. 18: Is it ever okay to not use a condom: When you aren’t having sex it’s probably just fine. 19: Who was the sexiest teacher you ever had? Colonel Sanders. He taught me to never buy fast food chicken. 20: A food that you would like to use during a sexual experience: Stuffed crust pizza. The experiment is you have sex, I’ll eat pizza. 21: How big is too big: I’d be okay with 1 acre. 22: One sexual thing you would never do: scrapbooking. 23: Biggest turn on: money. cheese. 24: Three spots that drive you insane: oil spots, tomato stain spots, spots on my phone screen. 25: Worst possible time to get horny: making a sandwich at S***** 26: Do you like it when your sexual partner moans: he should be moaning. he IS dead to me. 27: Worst sexual idea you ever had: falling in love 28: How much fapping is too much fapping: any use of the word fap 29: Best sexual complement you ever got: “this is the best looking sandwich I’ve ever seen” 30: Bald, landing strip, Jumanji: In the jungle, the mighty jungle, nobody sleeps with me tonight. 31: Is it good sex if you don’t nut: did someone say DONUT? 32: Fill in the blank: “If they ____________, we are fuckin” If they acknowledge me as a person and talk to me. 33: What’s your favorite part of your body: My brain. 34: Favorite foreplay activities: Vodka. Ramen Noodles. Law & Order SVU. 35: Love (>,<, or =) Sex For those of us who don’t remember our math thats “greater than, less than, or equal to] Love of shoes is greater than sex. 36: What do you wear to bed? Sadness. 37: When was the first time you masturbated: the only thing I’ve ever gotten off is an exit to eat Pizza.
38: Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself? Last time I showed a dude a nude he dumped me. How rude.
40: Have/would you ever have sex outside? I’ve been having sex outside the box for a year. (no sex. nothing in my box). 41: Have/would you ever had a threesome? Me, any food, and a bottle of ranch. 42: What is one random object you’ve used? A dude. To be fair he used me too.
There are a number of writers whose work never fails to fill me with both a sense of awe and the inspirational fire to try to be a better writer.
Heather Hogan is one of those writers. I have been reading her work for a number of years and need more fingers and toes to count the number of times I’ve thought “god damn!” after reading some of her work.
It never fails to fill me with the sense that “shit, I’ll never write something that good” and the unending drive to try anyway. There are a number of things I have written over the past three years or so that I would never have tried without her work. One piece in particular was one I felt inspired to attempt after reading an essay she wrote. It’s the hardest thing I have ever tackled. Writing it was work, but the kind of work that is fulfilling because it was so hard.
Heather’s essays have a way of resonating in my brain and in my heart and sticking there long after I am done reading. And I might not ever write something that makes other people whisper “holy shit” like a prayer but I am eternally grateful to her for giving me the courage to try anyway.
Go read this piece and then the rest of her work. I promise it will be worth every single second of your time.
But like…imagine a tranquil companion in a Dragon Age game
not joining up for any super important personal zest, but just because they would prefer the world not to end, and would prefer to live rather than die, and this seems the best way to ensure that outcome
not being able to do magic (of course) so using their old staff as a club, just straight up whacking people with it
“You don’t even have a weapon!” “I have my staff.” “But you’re tranquil, you can’t use magic!” *WHAM* “I do not require magic in order to be useful.”
never being cruel or petty or angry but being utterly ruthless in battle because they lack any empathy at all
party banter where other companions try to provoke an emotional response and fail miserably
no approval changes either way for ANYTHING based on emotional responses, only approval for completing things that further the party’s main goal
they have the best fucking poker face ever and if you ever need to bluff an enemy they are absolutely superb at it
My dad is by no means perfect, he's failed time and time again but he never, ever stops trying. And to me, that is success. He's been the best example of letting humor heal wounds. Of not letting the little things become big unbearable things. He's extremely wise with money and has never been in debt. He sometimes struggles to understand me, but he desperately wants to and takes time out of his schedule to just talk with me and invest in me. Unconditional love. That is success. (:
I am really excited for Hillary Clinton, and feminism’s immediate dismissal of her is really starting to piss me off.
Yes she is a white woman. Yes she is not as liberal as Obama. In this country, she would probably be a Tory, in which case I would regard her with the same contempt as I regard Theresa May.
But I think we have failed to recognise that there has never been a woman in the White House. Ever. This woman could be leading the most powerful country in the world. That is an extraordinary progression. This is ignoring the fact that she stood by her husband during his deplorable infidelity, which may have taken an unknown toll on her. And yet she is still here making things happen in America.
Representation matters. Sociologically proven. Representation improves people’s perception of themselves.
She’s not perfect. But she’s definitely one of the best we have got right now. It could be Sarah Palin.
Even though she was now eighteen, birthdays were still Amelia’s favorite thing in the entire world. Whether it was hers or someone else’s, she never failed to get overly excited for them and make them a huge deal. Her best friend, Bailey, had gotten together with some people to throw Amelia what she called, ‘the best sweet eighteen ever,’ and she definitely lived up to the expectations. With balloons, boys and booze, Amelia had to practically drag her best friend from the crowded house and into the car. “Bails, c’mon. Stop petting me while I’m trying to drive,” Amelia laughed, her drunken friend cackling in the seat beside her.
Once she pulled into the driveway of the quaint Portland home, drug Bailey up the stairs and got the girl in bed, she headed downstairs to get herself some water. It was her birthday, and Amelia was nowhere near ready to go to sleep. She yanked open the refrigerator, realizing how uncomfortable her tight party clothes were, and pulled out a bottle when she heard the front door behind her open. She quickly looked over her shoulder in anticipation to see who had just walked in.
michael gordon clifford is the best thing that has ever happened to me i s2g. he never fails to make me smile and laugh and his voice makes me feel things and his cute lil smile and his stubby lil fingers and his lil belly and how he's so fucking talented and his deranged sense of humor and how loving and caring he is towards everybody and he's fucking hot as fuck and is basically my male equivalent and i will marry the fuck out of him god plz just bless me with mimi as my hubby pLZ.
LKJFLAJSLDFKJALSK SAEMEMEM I LOVE THAT KID I WANT TO FIGHT HIIM
Happy birthday, princess. We hope you have a wonderful day because no one deserves it more than you. You continue to accomplish great things every single day and you never fail to make us proud. We’re always here for you, so like you said, follow your heart because we will always have your back. Thank you so much just for being you, it’s means more to us than you could ever imagine. You inspire us to follow our dreams even when the odds are against us, and for that I can never thank you enough. We wish you all the best and we love you so much! 생일축하해 시카! 우리 행복 하지♡ #HappyJessicaDay 🎉🎁🎂💝🎉
So I told bae I wasn’t feeling well and wanted ice cream. Next thing I know this arrives at my door.
Apparently I’m pretty lucky or something. 😊
Even from nearly 1000 miles away she never fails to surprise me.
Thank you, my-original-user-name, for always putting a smile on my face. I’m more than just lucky to have you in my life babe. 😘
When you get this, you must publicly post something nice about at least 5 different people you follow, then copy and paste this in each of their ask boxes
Yeessss I love this ask game thing it’s so sweet
moahna ARI OH MY GOD how do i even begin to explain ari. i’ve known this girl for almost a year now and i can tell you that she is one of the wisest, kindest, bravest people ever. she’s always ready to listen, and she gives the absolute best advice ever. she is honestly amazing and has changed the way i look at a lot of things. one time she called me a role model and it was the best thing ever because she’s such a role model to me, too. i’m so glad i can call her my friend ♥
obsessively-disney jenni is literally perfect. that’s it. everybody go home. okay but forreal i’ve known this girl for almost a year, too, and let me tell you she never fails to make me laugh. she’s one of the sweetest, funniest, most beautiful people ever and i absolutely love her to death (also jennu at first i tried to tag you by typing jenni instead of obsessively-disney and i was really confused why it wasn’t working smh)
bighero-honeylemon lulu is my kitten’s beautiful godmother and one of my dearest friends (i wouldn’t make just anyone addie’s godmother, duh). she’s always there to offer a helping hand to others, even when she’s going through horrible, horrible things herself. she is so strong and so kind and seriously just one of the most lovely people ever and deserves all the love in the world
kenaiskoda EMILY OKAY LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT EMILY. emily is pretty much just sunshine personified. seriously, she always says the sweetest things and i really don’t think there’s a single mean bone in her body. also her smile is cute as heck wow
okay there a lot more people i would love to write nice things for because there are just so many nice people on here, but i’m going to make this last one kind of a group thing because i can’t write to you all: if you’re reading this, know that you are absolutely wonderful. i know that might sound like an empty compliment, but if you’re my friend, you know i love you and have plenty of examples of your wonderfulness. if you’re not my friend, i know you’re just as wonderful, and if we got to know each other i would definitely have loads of nice things to say about you. “You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” i love you<3333
Pink - Your tags typically never fail to make me giggle. Blue - You've got more talent and determination than I'll ever have. Cream - conversation is my greatest weakness >.<
holy cheese balls i am so glad someone else besides me reads my tags i try my best to be a hoot in those things, the talent and determination just takes a whole lot of tears and no need to worry friend i am the worst at conversing with people in fact it helps to just imagine that you are all just racoons with keyboards
I’m not a fan of qualitative top tens. Anything that tells you ‘this is the best piece of art’ is going to fail, because the lister has momentarily forgotten that art is not a competition. But that’s what these lists have to be sold as, since a non-exclusive list of 'some things that I like’ is never going to be as newsworthy.
I faced this problem when I was asked to write a Top Ten Imaginary Friends in Literature for the launch of The Imaginary. I tried to make it as clear as possible that I wasn’t writing a Top Ten, but a Ten I Think Are Worth Noting. Purely subjective and not claiming to be Top anything. Still, they called it The Top Ten…
So, keeping my claims modest (and remembering most of the Top Ten Books lists I’ve read during this current spate of Thinking About Children’s Books have had at least one book I vehemently disagree with (I don’t begrudge people liking books I’ve not read, or that I’ve read but which weren't my cup of tea, but there are books on those lists that I’ve read and that were actively and undeniably bad… well, that’s a different kettle of ball games))… I thought I’d compile a quick list of my own.
The rules I imposed were: the book had to be to hand (if it was the copy I’d owned as a kid, that was a bonus); the book had to be something I’d lend or give away; if it had affected me in childhood, that was a bonus; don’t think too hard about it; and only one book by any one author.
I can’t find my copy of His Dark Materials anywhere, Danny’s gone missing too and lifting the Collected Calvin & Hobbes from on top of the bookcase was too much effort for a Sunday afternoon (which was when I collected the books). Other books were picked up and set down, not because they’re not good or great, but because I thought, 'Nah, not today,’ maybe tomorrow.
So, in no particular order, here are Ten (Mostly) Children’s Books That I Particularly Like For Various Reasons.
So, to begin: The Hobbit. This is the only edition I’ve ever owned, a nice chunky large format hardback, with colour illustrations by Michael Hague. (Interestingly (well, sort of) it’s actually a Houghton Mifflin US edition, over-stickered and re-jacketed for Allen and Unwin in the UK (in 1984).)
I originally read it from the library, in the usual Tolkien illustrated edition with the Misty Mountains and the forest on the front, and was immediately swept away. I loved that world. I was nine when this edition was published, so assume it was a sometime after-the-first-reading birthday present.
I went to sleep many nights with Nicol Williamson reading the book in a variety of regional accents.
My childhood legendarium was a deep and heady mix of J.R.R. Tolkien, George Lucas and some Greek myths.
How to pick one Tintin book? I grew up with a set of hand-me-down Tintins, and I read what I had. I had Explorers on the Moon, but never Destination Moon which explained how they got there. I had Seven Crystal Balls, but never Prisoners of the Sun, the conclusion of the story. As a kid you read what you have, and I was happy with what I had. This one, The Calculus Affair, has everything you need really: kidnapping, car chases, mystery, Cold War shenanigans and some thinking about the ethics of the end use of scientific research. (I might’ve picked Flight 714 for the added bonus of aliens, supernatural things, Von Daniken and its lovely inconclusiveness, but I found this one first on the shelf.)
To my mind this is Briggs’s most important work, and the reason for that is easy: it’s the only one I owned as a kid. At my aunt’s house I got to read Fungus The Bogeyman and one of the Father Christmas books, but it was Gentleman Jim I came home to. It’s such a sad book, even if the ending is happy (he’s in prison, but he’s got a chance to get an education). At every turn Jim, a public toilet attendant, dreams of escape. He reads the newspaper, haltingly. A recruitment advert for the Royal Marines…
“min-i-mum-ac-ad-em-ic-re-qui-re-ments-are-five-GCE-O-levels-or-equi-val-ent-in-clud-ing-A-lev-el-in-Maths-P&A-and-phys-ics-O-level-and-A-lev-el-Eng-lish…” It’s these Levels all the time in these adverts… I wonder what they are?
I bet it’s all to do with Education - that’s what it is…
They give them these things at school nowadays. All we got was a Bible and a thick ear.
But he also reads cheap fiction from the library and imagines himself the hero (think of Larkin’s A Study Of Reading Habits). However, when he tries to put one of these dreams into action (becoming a highway man) he is frustrated and bamboozled by authority figures at every turn. Briggs’s brilliant, harsh caricatures are terrifying, none more so than the final Judge Jim faces in court.
It’s a book about education, about hope, about aspiration, about the underdog, about pessimism, about the hateful smug condescending little Hitlers who lord it over anyone their little cloud of power happens to cover. I grew up terrified of authority, of anyone who wants power, who wants to be in charge. I knew where I belonged: daydreaming. I was lucky enough to escape Jim’s fate, and, maybe, so does he (at least he learns what 'the levels’ are). (Though he’s screwed when he and Hilda, his wife, reappear in When The Wind Blows.)
This one seems a bit of a shoe in. I empathised with Max too. I wanted a wolf suit. I wanted supper to be waiting when I came home, and for it to be still warm. I wanted the far away world. I wanted the rumpus and eye-rolling. I never really got it, but some of it found its way into The Imaginary (and fortunately Emily Gravett felt the same when she illustrated it), and this book made it onto the imaginary friend list I mentioned earlier.
(My childhood copy has gone missing, and I replaced it a few years ago, hence the new shiny copy, with utterly impossible to remove publisher’s sticker.)
This is an odd one. Possibly not intended to be a kids book, as such. I seem to think I found it at a jumble sale sometime as a kid and bought it. And it puzzled me. It’s a dictionary, as it says, of imaginary beings, and I never really understood whether it was real or not. This seems remarkably apt for a Borges book.
Some of the entries are clearly things from books, but some of them are from folklore and myth, often exotic. Some of them Borges may well have invented himself. I didn’t know then and I still don’t know now. But every entry is written with such a deadpan, matter-of-factness that it could be real.
It’s a glorious little thing that I picked and nibbled at for hours, feeling utterly discombobulated. Which is a lovely thing to feel.
(The book was actually compiled by Borges, Margarita Guerrero and Norman Thomas di Giovanni, though only one name appears on the outside.)
The Just So Stories are perfect and remain so, as do (and perhaps even more so) Kipling’s illustrations. Just the words 'Best Beloved’ bring it flooding back.
I seem to believe that when I first read or heard the phrase, 'I am the cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me,’ I saw a door open. I think that was the first literary character I really identified with.
I have been that cat my whole life, I feel, and being so has led to and through bullying, misery, art, poetry, utter incomprehension and finally freedom.
(We have at least three editions in the house: this was my original one.)
This copy of Spike’s Silly Verse For Kids is almost turning to dust in my hands, it is so old, well-thumbed, loved and frail. The combination of the silly verse (And Edser, in bed sir, was dead sir.) with Milligan’s not-very-good-but-utterly-to-the-point-and-entirely-of-the-man drawings was intoxicating. Sheer perfection.
I love the playfulness with form, too. The line that goes off the edge of the page, the ABC poem that has two alternative endings. This is freedom, this is art.
(For grown ups his series of war diaries are remarkable, beginning as a Puckoon-like joke to earn a few bob, each volume became more real, more serious and much more important. A bitter-sweet record of what the war did to a generation of boys dressed up as men and sent to places they’d never have visited otherwise… An astonishing coming of age story, written, eventually, with dark-eyed honesty. But for kids, start with the funny stuff.)
The last three books on the list are ones I came to later on, as an adult, but which sing to me and are beautiful in their disparate ways and I think should be mentioned whenever good books are being mentioned.
Brian Patten’s The Story Giant was only published in 2001 so I had no chance to stumble across it as a kid. But it is a wonderful compendium of tales, folk tales, ancient and modern, pure and remodelled, wrapped up with an over-arching tale about the value of imagination and story and communication.
Four children are summoned at night to the story giant’s castle to tell him stories. He’s searching for the one story he’s not yet heard, before he dies. Patten’s prose is as delicate and sensual as his poetry, which I also love. The light of imagination transcends decay, is written above the giant’s mantelpiece.
Everyone needs a grab-bag of stories to dip into, and this, thank you very much, will be mine. (Chris Riddell illustrated a later version, but this one with woodcuts by Andrew Davidson is a delight to hold, look at and smell.)
This collection (subtitled A Farmyard Fable For Young) of Hughes’s animal poetry is unique it his poetry books in that it is threaded together with a narrative. God and his Son come down to earth and talk to sleeping people to try to discover what the truth is. In doing so a remarkable, truly remarkable, sequence of poems are sung: ribald and solemn, praising and blaming, descriptive, emotive, honesty-inhabiting poems of wildlife.
This beautiful edition is illustrated by R.J. Lloyd with some really nice drawings.
Finally, a book that was published in 1980 but which I only discovered a few months ago. I love Russell Hoban, I reread his adult novels time and again (they’re short and rich and weird and wonderful), and I admire a book he did with Quentin Blake called Monsters very much (not least because Blake has to draw children’s drawings of monsters, and does so with felt tip verve), but this one’s even better (not all of his kids books hit the spot for me (The Mouse And His Boy I can, controversially, take or leave)), for example.
It begins with an old couple sat at a table that wobbles.
“It doesn’t feel like Christmas,” said the woman. “No wonder,” said the man. “What do you mean?” said the woman. “This table,” said the man. “What about the table?” said the woman. “It’s wearing me out,” said the man. The woman shook her head. All day she walked around shaking her head. That evening at supper the man said to her, “Why are you shaking your head?” “It isn’t right,” she said. “It’s wrong.” “What’s wrong?” he said. “The way things are with you and that table,” said the woman. “It’s all right for a man to wear out a table, but a table shouldn’t wear out a man.” “It was just a manner of speaking,” said the man. “I didn’t really mean that the table is wearing me out.” “I’ve been thinking about it all day,” said the woman. “Before we got that table you were young and handsome. Now you’re old and ugly. What you said was true. That table is wearing you out.” “But we’ve had that table for fifty years,” said the man. “It stands to reason I’m not as young and handsome as I was fifty years ago.” “Whether it stands to reason we don’t know,” said the woman. “All we know is how it was before the table and how it is now.”
And so he decides to make a new table. He finds a tablewood tree, cuts it down, saws it up and leaves the wood to season for a couple of years. Then he makes a new table.
“That really is a young, handsome, strong new table,” said the man. “The old table was wearing me down, but this one is building me up.” “You look much better,” said the woman. “You look fifty years younger already. There’s nothing like a new table.” “You’re absolutely right,” said the man. “And that table is really strong. It’s steady as a rock. No matchbooks under that table. Elephants could dance on that table.” “How many?” said the woman. “Only one, really,” said the man. “I don’t think there’s room for two.” “Oh,” said the woman. “When you said elephants I thought you meant more than one.” “One to a table, I’d say,” said the man. “I could make more tables for that matter. There’s lots of wood left from the tree I cut down.” “Where would we get the elephants?” said the woman. “Advertise in the Classified Section,” said the man. “Elephants wanted for table work. Must be agile.” “Then we’d have to pay them,” said the woman. “If people paid to see them dance, then we could pay the elephants,” said the man. “How do you know they’ll be worth paying to see?” said the woman. “Maybe they won’t be good dancers.” “We could open a restaurant,” said the man. “The elephants could wait on the tables, and in their spare time they could practise dancing until they’re good enough so people will pay to see them.” “They’ll need a dancing instructor,” said the woman. “We can work it out as we go along,” said the man.
And they do work it out.
They build chairs and tables, and hire elephants. People come and watch the man build the restaurant, while the elephants dance. In time the restaurant begins to wobble, so he takes it down, moves elsewhere, builds it again. Until…
They collected admission money and they sold hot dogs and the man put the restaurant together again. Business was good and they stayed until the restaurant started to wobble. Then they moved on. “Maybe there aren’t any places that’ll stay flat,” said the woman. “Maybe that’s just how it is.” “I think maybe you’re right,” said the man. “Sometimes it’s a one-man circus and sometimes it’s a twenty-elephant restaurant. And that’s life.” “Still,” said the elephants, “it’s not a bad life.” “No,” said the man, “it isn’t.”
And that’s the moral of the story. Nevermind your Dr Seuss’s Oh, The Place’s You’ll Go-typepositivity (which I also like), sometimes life is a one-man circus and sometimes it is a twenty-elephant restaurant, and just maybe there aren’t any places that’ll stay flat. And: Bang! Russell Hoban nails it as only he could.
Of all the books on the list, this one (just 45 pages long, half of which are filled with some of Blake’s finest watercolours) is the only one that makes me want to give up writing. It’s just too good, too perfect.
Not that I could write any of the others, but they don’t make me sit back and go, 'Golly,’ like The Twenty-Elephant Restaurant does. It’s truly astonishing. (But is it just for Hoban-lovers?)
One last thing. A few years ago (now I look I see, 'a few’ is actually almost 'seven’), the Canadian graphic novel press Drawn & Quarterly published a new edition of Gentleman Jim, and Raymond Briggs was kind enough to send me a copy. He seemed somewhat bemused by the whole having-been-picked-up-as-the-forefather-of-graphic-novels, but had remembered the admiration and, yes goddammit, love, I’d expressed for the book in question. Golly. I’m a lucky boy.
1. My gorgeous boyfriend never fails to make me feel so loved, beautiful and appreciated which makes me so very happy. ❤ (:
2. My not so little ball of fun in the form of my adorable puppy! :3
3. The most stunning little girl on earth, my niece.
4. little-bowl-of-soup is pretty awesome.
5. oddsockphobia always makes me happy. She’s the best friend I could ever ask for and means the absolute world to me. ❤
it gets harder and harder to wake up everyday. i lie to myself and say that its because i havent had a good night’s sleep as i keep going to bed late but even when i go to bed on time i still want to sleep for eternity. i have responsibilities and roles to play but zero motivation to do them. i only go to class because i know the anxiety of missing class , wondering what i missed and feeling like im going to fail will kill me. everything i do is routine and i feel detached from everything. im almost in tears and the only thing stopping me from breaking down is the fact that im with my best friend and i do not feel like explaining myself, i love her but shed never understand, or help. no one ever can. i dont want to feel like this, i dont want to battle with this anymore, i havent the energy or strength anymore. i just honestly want to go to bed and dream for eternity. im tired Jesus. im just so tired.