going to have a big drink some time this weekend

1. It’s getting tougher, but you can do this. Now is the time to push through. Now is the time to really fight and show yourself you can do this. Because you can, and you will.

2. Don’t hide your books, put them on your desk where you can see them so you’ll be reminded that you need to study.


3. If you can’t study at home, pack your books and go to that cute coffee shop you like so much. Sit in a quiet corner, order some tea and finish that essay.


4. Your mental health is just as import as your physical health. Take care of yourself.


5. Make a study schedule and write down everything you have to do for each class.


6. Don’t panic. If you get overwhelmed by the amount of stuff you still need to study for, take a deep breath. There’s nothing you can’t do. Take a look at your schedule and write down what takes the most and least time to do and prioritize it.


7. If it feels like the school days are getting longer and your weekend seems to be getting shorter; make plans on school days to get you excited to get up in the morning. Make plans to go bowling or get some drinks with friends, do whatever makes you want to get out of bed. You don’t have to wait for the weekend.


8. Cramming a few days before a big test and getting sleep deprived is the absolute worst and so unnecessary. Take one or two hours each weekend to go over what you learned in class that week. By the time exams come around you’re prepared and well rested.


9. Everyone has an attention span of approximately 40 to 60 minutes. So push yourself harder sometimes and slow yourself down. Take breaks when needed, be realistic.


10. Don’t just look at all the work that’s still ahead of you. Take some time to celebrate the things you never thought you’d finish, but did. The boring essays, horrible presentations, difficult exams. You survived all of it and you’ll survive this too. I’m proud of you, and so should you. Keep it up, baby.

—  10 steps on how to survive another year of school. // pt. 1
Hellofëanor’s Long-ass Con Guide

Every year I see a lot of “con guides” floating around the internet, linked on tumblr and facebook.  But for the most part I find these guides are full of really basic, common sense advice that could honestly apply to any big gathering, not just conventions.  Drink water!  Eat food!  Get lots of sleep!  ~*uwu*~ And yeah, you should probably make an effort to do those things, but any con veteran knows that the average young person with no health issues can easily survive a weekend on four hours of sleep per night, consuming nothing but candy and coffee (with maybe the occasional pizza slice thrown in for variety).

So with that in mind, here are my con recommendations with comments on the usual advice you get.  Bear in mind that this advice is probably not GOOD advice in any way, but I’m not your mom and my purpose here isn’t to tell you what you ideally SHOULD do.  I’m telling you what you’ll probably end up doing after all your best intentions slide down the toilet and the con sucks you into its gaping maw of chaos and hedonism.

“GET LOTS OF SLEEP!”  Eh, aim for six hours of sleep per night.  Depending on the con and your party schedule, sometimes this is not possible, but it’s a good goal.  Go to bed when the party dies down and get up when you need to start putting on your makeup for that day’s giant stupid costume.  If you’re tired and it’s interfering with your awesomeness, try to fit in a nap.  IMPORTANT: if you’re driving home after the last day of con, especially if it’s a long drive, you absolutely will want to get a solid night’s sleep before you go. Your safety depends on it.  If you’re flying out/taking the bus/getting a ride, go ahead and stay up all night partying, but driving?  Sleep is actually vital to your health and well being. Make good choices.

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The One

TITLE: The One

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: one shot

AUTHOR : tomcuddlesfic

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom

GENRE:  romance / angst / fluff

FIC SUMMARY: Tom absolutely loves teasing his best friend’s little sister, Lissy. But what happens when he teases too much, ruins her relationship with her current fling and ends up hurting her feelings?

RATING: T

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: And I am back with a one shot. I wanted to make this a two parter but knowing me, I won’t finish and then a lot of upset people would at my door. I don’t normally say much about my fic but this is actually really sweet and it kind of killed me a bit. I would love to hear what you think. :)

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Love

I had a drink tonight with a friend, catching up before I go away and then she goes away and then it’s October. It was a perfectly pleasant night that was strangely interrupted toward the end by a conversation I couldn’t help but overhear from the table next to me.

An older man, white, was sitting with a much a younger man, Asian. The older guy was in his 50s or early 60s maybe, talking slowly and loudly and deliberately to the younger guy, who was maybe 30, but probably younger than that. It pretty quickly became clear that this little end-of-weekend dinner had a strange bent to it: the older guy kept referring to the massage where the two met, and then saying “I didn’t realize you had a wife.” I couldn’t hear the younger man, who was Chinese, so I had to fill in some blanks, but I think the gist was that he was apologizing to the older man for some miscommunication, saying that he was married and was not gay. “Our penises touched,” the older guy said more than once. “I thought you were gay. You should be careful about what you do with your clients.”

The older guy then talked about the 23-year-old Cambodian man who’s living in his apartment while he finishes school, and another Chinese masseur whom the older man had picked up in much the same way. “He didn’t speak English. But I took him to dinner, like I’m taking you, and he understood that. He understood ‘eat,’ ‘food,’ … ‘sex.’ He always knew what ‘sex’ meant,” he said with a conspiratorial laugh. The conversation then shifted to the food, and my friend and I went outside to have a cigarette, but really so I could fill her in on what I’d overheard and we could discuss why someone would want to have a conversation like that in such a tiny, crowded restaurant. What I’d overheard was a little unsettling, but also enthralling; partly the grim workings of something perhaps predatory and fetishistic, partly almost admirably frank and direct.

Here was something that, I guess, someone might live-tweet. A new, more unseemly version of that cruel airplane breakup mess. And I’ll admit to being tempted, itching to tweet at least once or twice about what I was hearing. I know putting it on Tumblr probably isn’t much better, but on Twitter particularly, any documenting of their conversation would exist almost solely for mocking. And while the older man did, at times, seem like a creep, preying on a person who seemed to have very little ability or agency to assert himself, he was also, maybe, just trying to go about the business of finding someone to sleep with, and perhaps more. And without proper context, without some crucial evidence that might confirm for me that this guy was a genuine Bad Man, is that really something I should be making fun of? Here, maybe, was just a guy seeking connection in a lonely little corner of a big, lonely city.

This past weekend I went to Rhode Island to see my parents and took some friends with me, so we could hang out and eat and drink and go to the beach. And while it was a nice time, blessed with impossibly perfect, gorgeous weather, it was also, at times, a little fraying. Because bringing friends, most of whom have never met your parents, or seen you outside the context of the little glimpses we get of each other, lone and individual, at bars or parties, is stressful. But also because, of the seven of us, there were two couples, and my aloneness, my non-coupled-ness, felt particularly glaring in that setting. It was almost like I’d invited two couples up to spend a weekend enjoying a nice place together while I hovered in the background, a fuzzy, solitary figure–sad but cheerful, the jovial, accommodating lonelyheart, a role I sometimes worry I’m destined to play forever.

I know that’s mostly maudlin and silly. I know that my friends, couples or not, were happy to spend time with me; they wouldn’t have come if they didn’t want to be there. And I think, or I hope at least, that singleness, mine or others’, is probably not quite as glaring, as loud and lame and pitiable, as I’m often convinced it is. There was really no reason for all the internal shaming and chastising I did this weekend. But it was hard not to do it, especially after a few too many drinks in the sun. And it’s hard, in a bigger sense, not to do it now that most of my friends are in their 30s, and are, after all those years of tumult and tearing through messy nights together, beginning to seem something like settled, moving on from the bonding aimlessness of our collective past. So I spent a fair amount of time this weekend wanting what they had, but also finding it, with a weary kind of fatalism, difficult to imagine for myself.

My labored point, I guess, is that, even though he may very well have been a bad guy, I weirdly saw something almost brave, or certainly deeply human, about the older man at the restaurant tonight. At the very least, there was probably nothing worth turning into a snide joke. Not when I know some version of that same longing, know what it is to fumble ineffectually after something I want. (And, I’m slowly admitting to myself, need.) As I walked home, listening to sad songs on my phone, a bright red sunburn glowing hot on my face, I couldn’t quite shake the loneliness, the existential ache, that had bloomed for a few bleary moments this weekend. But I think I did forgive myself a little, and told myself to have a little more courage. In its maybe-dark way, this bit of eavesdropping was proof, a sour reminder, that there are so many people trying, so many people reaching, every day. 

And really, there’s nothing so strange, or so special, about that.