- this helps me so so so much. I start thinking my languages when I complain about my cats when they’re being annoying.
✏️ Keep Yourself Interested
- It’s hard work to learn a language. Find ways to keep yourself entertained. Aesthetic notes, fan fiction or buying your favorite books in your language is helpful.
- this shit is so helpful. look up videos, listen to music, watch stupid challenge videos, it’ll immerse you into the language.
✏️ Pocket Dictionaries
- I have a whole self of german dictionaries (thanks mom), and honestly, it’s so helpful to look through them. Keep them on hand to find words that you don’t know
✏️ Accept Mistakes
- You’re learning an entirely new way to communicate. Honestly, you’ll make a lot of mistakes. When you accept it, it becomes less traumatizing to mess up
✏️ Change your phone and games
- Ok, I didn’t wanna do this, but I did. The moment I switched my phone to french, oh my god, it was so immersive. I didn’t even know how much time i spent reading on my phone until I switched. I did switch back, and I felt less immersed. So honestly, it helps. I’m an active Minecraft player, so I changed my game to French. Holy fuck did that help.
✏️ Take notes ALL THE TIME
- Find a quote you like? write it down. Find a new word? write it down. Song? WRITE THAT SHIT DOWN.
✏️ Tumblr blogs are helpful
- I follow a les mis blog that posts about the french election in french and honestly, seeing memes and slang in french is so helpful, like yes.
Not all of these will work for you, but they help for me, so I hope that you benefit from this.
“She likes to sing,” the father continues on the subject of Frances Bean. “She’s practicing her vocals. And she seems to be fascinated with the acoustic guitar, which kind of disturbs me. One of my favorite things to say to her is, ‘Leave that stupid rock'n roll music alone; you’re going to be a classical musician, rock'n roll is dead.’ I’m sure I’ll let her do whatever she wants. But Courtney and I both hope she isn’t too interested in rock music. I just couldn’t imagine what rock music will be like for a kid 20 years from now.” - Kurt
The one thing i hate about the punk subculture is that yall are like always like we love and accept anyone and everyone who respect humans and its just not about the music (although the music is very important) its about the attitude and fighting for minorities and anyone can be punk if you love the music and supporting others but at the same time we have people who dedicate blogs or time to making fun of new punks and people who may not have the money to buy that $80 dead kennedys patch or that $2 ramones patch
Punk is about honest diy. having no money so you write your favourite bands name in sharpie or paint what ever you can get your hands on, Like thats the point Honestly punk is having shitty clothes and listening to fast and stupid music and having fun And it doesnt matter if you have “entry level punk band patches from the basic bands” bc people are aloud to like those bands Its not some fashion show its a movement to support minorities and people in need. Its about listening to music with people who like the same music as you. Not about bullying. Bullying is about as unpunk as you can get. Remember you were once a newcomer to the punk community.
I hate Chris Evans this stupid idiot with his stupid like the ocean blue eyes and his stupid face I want to touch all the time and with his stupid hair I want to run my hands through and his stupid laugh which is music to my ears.
It’s dark when Annabeth finally drags herself home from a late-night study session. There’s a light on in the kitchen, and she kicks her shoes off at the door, drops her bookbag, follows the sounds of soft music to the small table stuffed in the corner of the small galley. Percy’s head is pillowed on his arms, crossed over a thick textbook, and a calm instrumental playlist sings from his laptop.
He’s dead asleep. The hood of his sweatshirt is tucked warm around his neck. A dark curl of hair rests against his forehead. Something almost fond uncurls in Annabeth’s chest as she looks at him, and she steps closer, reaches out–and touches his hair, brushes it carefully from his face. It’s thick, coarse, and feels heavy and damp with chlorine.
Percy sleeps on, none the wiser, but Annabeth pulls back as if scalded.
She hurriedly–and quietly–grabs a water bottle from the fridge and escapes toward her bedroom. She’s tired, that’s all. She’s certainly not feeling anything close to affection toward her terrible, annoying, impertinent roommate. He’s loud, and leaves his shoes everywhere, and plays his stupid music at all hours of the night. He’s always wet, somehow–after a shower, or swim practice, or a jog, and he’s nearly always in some state of undress, and she has to stare at his stupid abs, or his legs, or his hair–and really, does he have to lounge so ridiculously on the couch? It’s a shared living space. They’re living here together.
He doesn’t have to be so…
Annabeth doesn’t know what to think. Awful, she wants to say. Annoying. Tempting. Beautiful.
She closes her door quietly behind her, and takes a healthy swig of water.
Being a music major is bad, because you have to deal with all the awkward acquaintances and distance family members going “oh sweetie what are you going to do with that?” In a horrible condescending way.
But being a music education major is worse because they ask the same question and apparently they’re too stupid to put together “music” and “education.”
Will grow up listening to musicals (unless if I marry a rich man, if it happens they will grow up watching live musicals every night) (also we will live on Broadway) they will love it and I will love them and it will be totally awesome! They will be geeks like me! We will sing showtunes together and act in every musical at home!
Gryffindor is laughing at your jokes and not caring what others think. Gryffindor is falling in love with life every day when you wake up when the sun touches your face. Gryffindor is emptying a water bottle over your head on a hot day and not changing your wet clothes. Gryffindor is always telling the truth even if it hurts. Gryffindor is knowing that brave doesn’t mean not being afraid but doing something despite experiencing fear. Gryffindor is kissing strangers at a party. Gryffindor is blasting music and singing the lyrics wrong. Gryffindor is the strong wind playing with your hair as you’re leaning out of the window. Gryffindor is crying with the rain and screaming with the thunder. Gryffindor is the friend who takes you by the hand when you need them to. Gryffindor is staring at fireworks with wide-opened eyes. Gryffindor is stargazing with that one person and feeling eternity. Gryffindor is the smirk you give someone right before you punch them in the face. Gryffindor is the one person you’ll always remember for being loud and strong yet always there when you needed them. Gryffindor are the memories of your youth that never fade. Gryffindor is the song stuck in your head that you associate with something that happened to you when you heard it for the first time. Gryffindor is slipping into sweatpants and an old t-shirt and not getting out of them for the whole day. Gryffindor is the red and yellow leaves in Fall that rustle beneath your feet. Gryffindor is the river flowing so fast and reckless taking everything with it. Gryffindor is dancing around a fire and singing songs from old days. Gryffindor is staying up all night to talk. Gryffindor is belonging to no one and everyone at the same time. Gryffindor is running so fast that your legs hurt. Gryffindor doing without thinking and living with the consequences.
Slytherin [by Tory]:
Slytherin is hanging an old diploma that belonged to a
long-deceased family member you’ve never met in a place of honor in your house.
Slytherin is clutching smoke and loving the feeling of it slipping through your
fingers. Slytherin is turning off all the lights in your house and letting the
last glints of the setting sun peek in through your window. Slytherin is
smiling and laughing and never letting on that you secretly want to hit the
person you’re talking to over the head. Slytherin is weaving in and out of traffic. Slytherin is the sunlight that ripples
down onto the floor below you when you’re submerged in a pool. Slytherin is
sometimes lying to others, but never to yourself. Slytherin is playing up the
shadows and contrast when you’re editing a picture. Slytherin is dressing up on
your days off. Slytherin is expecting the very best from those around you, and
yet also turning the other cheek when the ones you love hurt you. Slytherin is missing
the school bus and, instead of calling a friend or family member for a ride,
walking home instead. Slytherin is falling in love with historical figures.
Slytherin is skimming through photo albums by the light of a fire at Christmas
time. Slytherin is wanting the freedom to change your mind whenever you want,
but not actually doing so. Slytherin is a Venetian mask. Slytherin is a velvet curtain
on a stage. Slytherin is an instrumental music track that pulls at your heartstrings.
Slytherin is a piece of refreshing mint gum.
Slytherin is the pair of eyes that says much more than a mouth ever
Hufflepuff [by Jinxy]:
Hufflepuff is sweaters with fraying sleeves and fading covers. It’s skipping stones sending up ripples as they sink in a lake. It’s the last dandelion seed clinging to the stem and a half-written letter. Hufflepuff is hair escaping a braid. It’s extra buttons collected in a jar on the bookshelf. Hufflepuff is empty birdhouses and open windows. It’s a garden of sunflowers reaching for the sun. Hufflepuff is the moment of anticipation right before something exciting happens. It’s trumpet music and untied shoelaces. Hufflepuff is old, flowery wallpaper. It’s singing along to a song, but only knowing the words to the chorus. It’s waiting, but not giving up hope. Hufflepuff is the nostalgia of entering a childhood home. It’s thunderstorms. Hufflepuff is forgetting a word mid-sentence. It’s a smile hiding tears, blurred family photographs, and the kitchen in wake of cooking. Hufflepuff is glasses clinking together in toast and friends reuniting after too long apart. It’s a long exhale and the first step into a new adventure.
Ravenclaw [by Abigail]:
Ravenclaw is the quiet patter of rain at night, leaves falling in fall, finding a geode, converse, hair falling onto the floor after being cut. Ravenclaw is purple flower petals blowing in the wind, glitter, the smell of hot chocolate in the winter, the sound of water flowing over rocks in the creek, trying new ice cream flavors, stupid puns, new sheet music, the seat heater in the car. Ravenclaw is scribbling with a brand new pen, quiet giggles at a campfire, spinning in a dress, the new book smell, space, lavender, newly painted nails, fluffing a pillow right before bed, making a fresh cup of tea, Ravenclaw is the moment you get something perfect after working hard on it, snowflakes falling on your nose, petting a dog after a long day, a half smile, water dripping on your nose after a shower, a perfectly baked treat. Ravenclaw is catching fireflies once the night has gone completely dark, the wind in your face and hair while walking, dark lipstick, a new pair of heels, curly hair. Ravenclaw is staring up at the stars on a summer night with a friend, the feeling you get after learning something new, crazy socks, perfecting the messy bun. Ravenclaw is standing on the beach as the waves come up and hit your knees, the sound of a clock ticking, the feeling of when you just jump in without thinking.