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“If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are. Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.”—
“Is the phrase 'Deliciously politically incorrect' used with the same gay abandon in the US? You come across it all the time here, and usually it means, quite simply, that a book or a movie or a TV programme is racist and/or sexist and/or homophobic; there is a certain kind of cultural commentator who mysteriously associates these prejudices with a Golden Age during which we were allowed to do lots of things that we are not allowed to do now. (The truth is that there's no one stopping them from doing anything. What they really object to is being recognized as the antisocial pigs they really are.)”—Nick Hornby.
what holds my attention on tumblr.
There are only about three things that hold my attention on tumblr:
1. an intriguing photograph
2. a prominently displayed vulgar word
3. the fact that I am waiting for the next page to load.
follow me, lovee: http://mollygaga.tumblr.com/
I used to have a real blog. I still wrote about my life, but I did it mostly in essay form. I had no idea what I was doing, but I got positive feedback so I kept stumbling through it.
Tumblr is a place where I do things that are between a real blog, Twitter, and just fucking around like a dumbass. The last part is something that sums me up in meat space pretty well. Farmlandia! is almost a real blog even though it’s on tumblr. Even there I feel I’m too informal most of the time, but that’s my default.
I haven’t RSVPd to the wedding. I really want to go, but I’m not sure if I can. That’s how most of my social life is these days, and I don’t know the proper etiquette involved in RSVPing, “Yes. Maybe. If I can manage to shower, drive, and be sure I can drive back home.” The beauty is I’m pretty sure Jason and Jess totally get this and will be fine either way. It’s their day, obviously it isn’t about me, but no one wants to hurt their friends or have them feel they aren’t important to you.
I’m looking at assistive things on Amazon. I can’t get gas myself most of the time anymore. Imagine being stuck at home three miles from a gas station because you aren’t sure you can get the gas cap off or hold the pump thingy to fill the tank. So frustrating. You can get full service with a handicap placard, but I don’t have one of those. There is a thing on Amazon that has a handle and helps you get the cap off with a long handle instead of gripping the round cap. I hope to order it and a few other things soon. I didn’t plan to need any of this stuff until I was old.
Whatever old is.
Did you know adults are human beings? I didn’t figure that out until my 40s. Suddenly I was an adult AND still a human being! WTF is that about? I was a serious idiot for most of my life. I seemed mature on the outside sometimes, and I was definitely responsible most of the time, but inside? Complete and utter childish idiot. Still am sometimes.
Tumblr often feels like a narcissistic indulgence for me. That’s when I have trouble posting. Then I remember that some of my followers actually like to hear from me, and that there are times when I educate or commiserate or support and advise people. Then I feel I can post another goofy conversation or photo of my face.
I like you guys is what I’m trying to say. Thanks for being here.