i think this should just be in my about me. no this should be my about me

jesuswouldntdocokeinthebathroom  asked:

Uhm excuse me huny i dont think that there is anyone who likes ur Blog you should go nd see the doctor , u think i should care about your being but u sexualize murderer and dont give a f about all the victims show some respect kiddo

lol I don’t care if anyone doesn’t like my blog because I like it and why would I go see a doctor do you mean a therapist and I don’t think you should care about my being and I don’t want you too because I don’t care and I do care about the victims will you please send me a screenshot where I said I don’t give a fuck about them because I would love to see it oh wait you can’t because I never said that I actually enjoy when people send me hate because then I got something to laugh about because I just wonder why do you waste your time coming on my blog just to hate don’t you have something else to do or maybe you are just lonely and if you send hate you know I will respond maybe you got daddy and mommy issues and never got enough attention or maybe you really like my blog and just want to be on it or maybe you just don’t like it but whatever the reason you are still taking you sweet time to come on it look at all my stuff then get butthurt and send me hate and come back to my blog every 5 minutes to see if I wrote you back lol  “hunny” I’m not hurting anyone so no matter how much you hate my blog there is nothing you can do about it so how about you just go on with your life and stop wasting your time trying to make me feel bad about my blog because I don’t and I never will so go spend time on your own blog and if you don’t like my blog so much then why are you on it???

I think we need to normalize the idea of marrying friends. I don’t mean in a “the best romantic relationships come from the best friendships” type way, though I do believe that’s true. I mean in a “I have zero romantic feelings for you, but I would totally spend the rest of my life committed to a future where you are my primary partner and maybe even raise a family together” type way.

Like, I don’t think it should be an aromantic-exclusive option, or a plan B when you and your best friend are still single at 40 and want to take yourselves out of the dating market.

I’ve heard it mostly as that backup plan, that “if I don’t find anyone, I’ll just marry Trish haha”, and I don’t think that’s even what I’m talking about normalizing. That’s a secondary outcome, seen as “giving up” on finding “real love”, and even if a pair of friends go for it, it’s plagued with this general feeling of “sub par”.

What I mean is that marrying a best friend (or having a committed intimate or emotional platonic relationship) should be seen as just as worth doing as marrying someone you’re in love with. It should be normal for teenagers to try as many committed friendships as they do romantic relationships. It should be normal for someone to say “this is my best friend and if everything works out, maybe we’ll move in together later” or “Trish and I have been roommates for two years now. We’re considering adopting soon, or Trish might carry a child!”

And as an aromantic person, it shouldn’t be strange for me to say “I prefer friendship to romance”. People should hear that and nod their heads like “that’s understandable. John feels the same.”

Hell, I see so many people expressing that they prefer their friends’ company to their romantic partner’s. “My friends understand me better and I think treat me better” and they’re expected to go home to this person, to marry and have kids with this person. It’s bizarre to me. Your platonic feelings for your friend aren’t inferior to your romantic feelings for your boyfriend, and if one of them treats you better than the other, I think you should probably rethink which one is your primary partner.

I also find it strange that it’s not more common in poly spaces for a friend to be considered a legitimate “partner”. In a world where friendships were just as likely to bloom into life partnerships as romantic relationships, I think polyamory would be much more commonplace. “I committed to Josephine about a year ago and now we own a home, but I fell in love with Joe about six months ago and we’re all trying to make it work.” Josephine shouldn’t have to worry about her partner leaving her for Joe just because their bond is romantic and therefore the “sensible” relationship to choose over the other.

I’m just ranting at this point, but I reiterate: committed friendships should not be seen as strange and “sad”, but as a legitimate option for a lifetime commitment. Not just for aromantics like myself, but for everyone. It should just be normal.

And not to be presumptuous, but I don’t think I’m alone in this thinking

So I just did a post about how I manage my time and my daily schedule and such, and I felt like this part is really important and was getting lost in the minutiae of my day, so I made it a separate post. I was talking about various ways in which my life is not necessarily “normal”, like how I go to bed at 7:30, which people treat as one of my eccentricities, and rightly so. But while it is weird it speaks to the crux of my life philosophy, which I’ve spoken about before as regards dealing with anon hate:

My time and attention are finite resources and they have a value I can bestow where I wish. If something is not necessary to survive, does not solve a problem, or does not provide joy, I stop doing it.

I pay my bills and do my dishes and wash my clothes because you have to do those things. I engage in activism and try to stay current on the news because I believe I have a moral duty to contribute to society, and I run because it’s good for my heart and my body. I have friendships, engage in fandom, play the ukulele, write, go to concerts and movies and art galleries because it brings me joy to do so.

Going to bed early solves a problem for me: I wasn’t doing anything useful with that time anyway, I wasn’t enjoying myself or feeling happy. If I wasn’t getting any benefit from that time, how could I put it to better use? Sleeping is beneficial, so I tried that, and it worked; I get more sleep and I don’t miss anything I can’t catch up with. Work doesn’t make me especially happy or fulfill me in ways we could all wish, but that’s okay. Work is necessary to survive, so I do it. I don’t date much because I tried dating semi-recently and the promise of future joy did not outweigh the lack of joy that dating itself brought to my life; it was painful, ugly, and boring, and so I stopped doing it. 

The dating thing may change in the future, if eventually the promise of a relationship becomes more enticing, but it’s an example of how the pursuit of happiness is non-standard, and you are allowed to weigh the cost against the payoff based on your own personal feelings, not on society’s dictates. Because it turns out when you are doing what makes you happy, when you feel joy, you could give two shits about what everyone else thinks should make you happy. 

Sometimes, what brings me joy is sitting on the couch listening to a podcast I’ve already heard ten times and playing a stupid mindless flash game; I often catch myself thinking “I could be doing something more useful, something cooler, something more active” and remind myself “But this is making me happy, and it’s what I’m capable of doing right now.”

“Does this make me happy” or, if you’re struggling with happiness, “Does this calm and soothe me” is a great metric for what you should be doing in life when you are on your own time. It’s a good way to check in with yourself and lead yourself towards a more fulfilling life on your own terms. 

If you are out at a bar with friends, stop and ask, does this make me happy? Because there is no way in which asking that does not help. If being at a bar doesn’t make you happy and if it’s the only time you see your friends, maybe it’s time for a change; you are now free to pursue something that will make you happy. If being at a bar doesn’t make you happy but your friends do, and this is one way to bond with them of many, then it’s a cost with a later benefit, and you’ve now become conscious that while you aren’t happy right this minute, you are paying into future joy. And if you like being out at a bar with friends and are having a good time, then you’ve reaffirmed to yourself that you are happy and this is where you want to be. And affirming that you are feeling joy is a great thing to do. 

You don’t have to be happy all the time – but on your own time, when work and chores and the duties of the day are done, you should devote yourself to finding joy in whatever form that takes, be it a nap or a party or a date or your kids or, I don’t know, watching people make fake food on YouTube. 

Believing that your time and attention have value and should only be bestowed on the worthy means coming to believe that you have value, which is so hard to do that I’ll take any shortcut I can get. Devoting your time time and attention only to what is necessary or what is pleasurable means learning a great deal about what you value, and I truly believe leads you to a more fulfilled life.

So when people ask me about time management, I have real tips and tricks to offer – but I think the most important think I can offer is the suggestion that whatever time you have, you should believe it has value because it is yours, and you should direct it appropriately. 

5

I Hate Nick Robinson I hate his streams where he just Sits There and listens to music and plays games with the video over his Own Face

                                                                                   I hate him

3

Oh boy. I finished this thing in a day, but I procrastinated posting it for another three days after realizing a lot of errors in the format of the comic rip but im lazy af so i never even fixed them ahh. As for the other comic I was working on: every new chapter released reveals another logical flaw in the comic. I think I’ll wait till the companion fic starts to really fix up that comic orz :’( 

This is for chapter 12 in the fic Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by @kazliin

anonymous asked:

genuine question: why do you not like people refering to lucio specifically as "boy"? tumblr tends to call every character boy/boi especialy since the mcelroys became popular so what is it about lucio in particular that isnt good to call him boy

The short answer: it’s because he’s black and the people doing it are largely white and there’s cultural baggage surrounding white people using the words “boy” and “son” to address black men. 

The long answer starts out with the idea of tonedeafness and a fandom phenomenon that crops up when predominately white fanbases are exposed to dimensional, compelling characters of color. The same thing happened with Star Wars and Pacific Rim and so many other diverse franchises lately. 

A lot of the time, white fans are genuinely not trying to be racist, but most of their faves up to this point have been white, and they haven’t considered that perhaps the way they write and talk about those faves would take on different implications when the characters’ race is considered. 

For instance, and I get in trouble a lot for bringing this up, but a few months ago there was a Disney AU fanart of Finn and Rey from Star Wars as Tarzan and Jane. Now, in the movie, Tarzan and Jane are both white, but in the art, the impact changes because Finn is a black man and the artist drew him as an animalistic ape-man who meets a delicate high-class British woman who “civilizes” him. Obviously the Tarzan/Jane dynamic has a very VERY different meaning if Tarzan is depicted as black and Jane is depicted as white, and it is in fact racist to depict Finn that way even if it wouldn’t even be the smallest problem to draw, say, Iron Man and Pepper Potts in the same exact situation. (Also if anyone is Tarzan in that pairing, it’s Rey, but I digress)

So you get these situations where people are trying to do the stuff they always do for all characters, only their faves have mostly been white up to this point so they’ve never really had to consider the racial implications of the stuff they say and write about those characters. That’s why they draw D.Va as an infant without realizing that the infantilization of East Asian women is actually a harmful racist practice, and then when informed of this fact, instead of saying “oh shit, I didn’t know I was contributing to that! Thanks for telling me, I’ll stop doing it,” they get defensive and claim that actually it doesn’t matter if the end product is 100% identical to racism, because they didn’t intend for it to be racist, that’s not what they were trying to do.

Also, generally speaking, they don’t do the same thing to white characters. While jokes at the expense of Soldier: 76 and Zarya are usually things like “he’s old and grumpy” or “she’s really strong,” jokes about Reaper are more like “he’s got a huge dick and he’s abusive and a rapist” and jokes about D.Va are usually “she’s a dirty and mischievous subhuman creature and the white guy is like her dad.” The fact that a lot of people make all these jokes and think they’re roughly equivalent speaks to how much unconscious racism they’ve got to purge from their system. 

Alright, so now that we understand that, let’s get into a little more of why “boy” and “son” in particular are not the sort of thing you should not call Lucio. 

The first and main reason is that he’s a grown man, aged 26, but more importantly, he is a black man. Historically, the words “boy” and “son” have been used on black men for two reasons: 

  1. Because even grown black men were to be treated as childlike under white supremacy, esp. under slavery, and even after the abolition of slavery, the words “boy” and “son” are still used in order to talk down to black men. You will still frequently catch younger white people address black men older than them as “boy” or “son,” especially in a service capacity (i.e. a black waiter or employee at a store). Under slavery, the dominant white supremacist narrative was that even the smartest black people were only on the level of white children, which is obviously a complete falsehood fabricated to justify their continued subjugation by saying “they’d be lost without us.” So, by referring to black men as “boy” or “son,” that’s the message that was being communicated, that even though any given black person is grown, they’re still viewed as roughly mentally equivalent to children. 
  2. A lot of slaveowners didn’t feel it was worth it to learn the individual names of their slaves, so they would simply address them as “boy” or “son” (or “girl” or a variety of other degrading names for women) and this practice continued even after the abolition of slavery. Again, calling back to the “black waiter” situation I referred to earlier, you still sometimes see white patrons referring to black employees as “boy” or “son” in this way. For older people, they would use the terms “Auntie” and “Uncle” as a way to deny them honorific titles such as “Mister” and “Miss,” which is where we get mascots like “Aunt Jemima” and “Uncle Ben,” both of whom were derived from this practice. A similar example is how a lot of white railroad passengers wouldn’t bother to learn the names of their car’s porter and would simply call them all “George,” which again sort of demonstrates my point: the name “George” isn’t inherently racist, lots of people have that name, but to call a black guy doing their job that carries different implications even if you “didn’t mean it that way.”

So generally, there’s nothing wrong with the words “boy” or “son” most of the time, but when you address a black man this way, it carries a whole different implication. I’m not trying to condemn anyone morally or say “you’re evil if you’ve ever used these words about Lucio” or anything, but back to the beginning of this:

I am assuming you all have positive intent, that you are all well-meaning and that you are definitely not trying to be racist. Because of this, I feel like it’s my responsibility to tell you when a thing you’re saying carries meanings that you maybe didn’t consider and definitely didn’t mean to imply. I know I would feel foolish and guilty if I found out something I’d been saying casually actually had a racist meaning that I wasn’t aware of, so I just want to say that if anyone reading this is (like me) a white person who’s really truly well-intentioned and doesn’t mean to be racist at all, your response here should be “oh wow, I didn’t know that Boy and Son are names you generally shouldn’t call black people, I’ll be more conscious of that in the future,” and if your response is to become defensive and try to prove that it isn’t bad because you didn’t mean it “that way,” it either means you aren’t well-intentioned and do mean to be racist OR it means you didn’t read the post. 

That being said, I’m happy to inform where I can, but I’m also not black, and a lot of black writers have explained this a lot more eloquently than me. I suggest you do some googling and research what they’ve said on the subject, because I’m sure they’ll give you a clearer picture than I possibly can. 

SKAM S04E09 Clip 5 - Maghrib

SANA: Please accept my fast, even though I’ve behaved badly. Please watch over Eva and Vilde and Noora, Chris. Please watch over Isak and Even and Elias and Yousef.

[VILDE: Hi, are you ready to meet up?

EVA: Sana! Chris and I will pick you up with the van in 20 minutes.

SANA: Ok cool

SANA: I regret cancelling the date with Yousef

NOORA: YEEES! Call him! Go!

EVA: Do it girl!! Life is NOW!!

SANA: According to Islam, life is after death. Which is one of the reasons why I should stay away from him

CHRIS: According to me, the abdomen is dead after death. Which is one of the reasons why you should meet him!!

VILDE: Yousef! Yousef! Yousef!

SANA: Hahaha I get why mom is worried that I don’t have any Muslim friends

NOORA: Hello! OK!! I can argue from an Islamic perspective

SANA: Now I’m intrigued

NOORA: Ok, doesn’t Islam believe in destiny?

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6

That’s definitely not the first thing that should have come to mind, Kuroo

(tho it looks like no one really minds

aside from bokuto that is)

I think people forget that Vegeta likes training and fighting almost as much, if not the same, as Goku. Here’s the difference: Vegeta cares about Bulma more than that thing he loves. He prioritizes her. He may not say it and may even look like he doesn’t give a crap but his actions express it perfectly.

SKAM S04E08 Clip 6 - Happy Birthday to you

ADAM: We’re fasting. We’re not having hotdogs.

ESKILD: Is that Fedon Lindberg, or who is it?

LINN: I’ve probably had chlamydia like thirteen times, it’s like.. Just take some antibiotics and it’s gone.

VILDE: Yeah.

LINN: But in the eye? I haven’t heard that one before.

EVEN: You can just do it from your side. Should I do it now? Bad hit!

ELIAS: Awesome! Look what he did now.

EVEN: Hey, guys!

MAGNUS: Hey! Hey. I’m Magnus.

ELIAS: I’m Elias.

MAGNUS: You know my girlfriend.

ELIAS: Oh.. The blonde one?

MAGNUS: Yeah.

ELIAS: Right! Yeah, yeah, yeah. She has talked lots about you.

MAGNUS: She did?

ELIAS: Yeah, she talked about you a lot.

MAGNUS: What does she say about me?

Keep reading

braveten  asked:

5 headcanons about Victor annoying Yuuri (or Yuuri annoying Victor)

(these are 100% inspired by chrissy teigen’s tweets, and also by our chats when we were talking about her lmao)

1. victor has taken to doing this thing where he sends yuuri nudes and then says, “sorry wrong person.” it’s funny, it’s really funny, it’s comedy gold—until it isn’t. until at one point yuuri texts back, “no worries, happens to me all the time :p” and then victor realizes. he realizes that he’s never, not once, gotten a nude from katsuki yuuri. “wait what?” he types back, fingers flying over the touch screen. “yuuri? yuuri. who’ve you been sending yours to??” but no response comes, and victor is frantically shoving the groceries into the recyclable bag. he ignores the looks he gets from the cashier and surrounding customers. then he’s stumbling out of the store, pulling his phone out again and hitting call.

“what does that mean?” he asks, no preamble. // “hmm?” yuuri’s voice is nonchalant on the other line, innocent. // “yuuri,” victor whines. // but yuuri only yawns: “sorry, which one are you? i have so many contacts saved under the name ‘boyfriend’ so you’re going to have to identify yourself.” 

victor never tries to be funny again. 


Keep reading

Why yes, we should ring up every item.

I used to be a front end manager for a large hardware chain in the Midwest. It was early in the day (around 9 am or so) and my head cashier had called in sick so I was already behind in a lot of ways. Luckily I had a girl scheduled who was a former head cashier who had left the company and came back as a full time cashier. We’ll call her Jenny. Jenny was smart and worked hard, she was always professional and was quick with a joke. I liked when she was scheduled to work with me.

Jenny was around 7 months pregnant (and had the most awful things said to her because she didn’t have a ring on her left hand, but that’s another story) and I had given her the phone while I was trying to accomplish various tasks to set up my day.

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I’m sorry I could never be the daughter you wanted
Grasping the Obvious

Bucky Barnes was in love, and it seems that everyone figured it out but you. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, tiny segment of angst. 
Author’s Note: Don’t you love fluff? I do. After writing angst for three days straight I could use a little fluff. Enjoy! This is 3000 words long! 

Keep reading

It’s a [Tinder] Date! (Part 3/3)

Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match!

Word Count: 3,405

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Almost a month later, but this fic is officially done :D I hope you all enjoy this fluffiness. 

Originally posted by mackievanstan


Work managed to distract you enough to not keep looking at the clock every five minutes. Despite part of your brain telling you that there was no way you had a date with Captain America, there was another part that couldn’t help but to hope this was true. And so, you found yourself daydreaming of showing up to the restaurant and seeing him there. What would you even say to him? What kind of greeting would you use? Would you address him as Captain, or maybe Mr. Rogers, or just Steve?

By the time you got home, you had a few outfit options in mind and made a beeline to the bathroom, taking a shower before you got started on getting ready.

Peter came around as you were choosing between four different outfits you had draped on your bed. He helped you picked the one that was form-fitting, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

“We gotta tease him,” he said.

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kirishima is totally that kind of bf who would kiss ur whole face and play with ur hair and bakugou it’s embarrassed just by holding hands on public so the moment they start dating katsuki is a Mess™ and eijirou thinks is the cutest thing ever

anonymous asked:

What do you think about an “i picked up your bag at the airport but i can’t find your number so i’m about to embark on the largest scavenger hunt of all time by using your strange belongings to track you down” au with charmer or nurseydex or zimbits or something??

Well, I don’t know if you expected three mini fics, and I didn’t fully follow the prompt, but here we are.

1. Charmer

Look, Chris knew it was dumb. He knew that everyone on earth had a plain black suitcase, he knew he should have double-checked the luggage tag, he knew it was important to be sure abut these things. But knowing what he should have done couldn’t help him when he finally got his suitcase home and opened it up to find mostly yoga pants and sundresses. 

Fuck.

He zipped the bag back up and flipped open the luggage tag. It was cute, pink with some metallic lettering saying “I’m outta here!” in a handwritten font. Chris blamed jetlag and the redeye flight for making him miss the fact that it wasn’t his Sharks tag. He blamed the bag’s owner for not filling out any of the information on the tag.

Dammit.

Well, sorry random girl, he thought. He opened the suitcase up again to try to see if he could find anything that would give him a clue as to who the suitcase owner was. He moved a makeup bag aside, and hit gold immediately. Well, Samwell red. A Women’s Volleyball tshirt– mystery suitcase girl had to be on the volleyball team.

“Hey Ransom!” he yelled. “You’re facebook friends with all the volleyball team right?”

“He’s friends with everyone on campus!” Holster yelled back.

“Ask their captain if anyone flew in from the Bay Area and lost their luggage!”

_X_

“Is Justin here? My captain said he’s got my suitcase.” Chris overheard her at the door. He grabbed the bag and started hauling it downstairs. As he set it down at the bottom and caught sight of the girl in the doorway, he froze. She was pretty. Like, really pretty. 

“Um, hi,” he said.

“So you’re Justin? Oh my god, I’m so glad it wasn’t some total rando who got my bag.” 

“I’m actually Chris, Justin was just the one who was friends with your captain. Um, I’m sorry, but I kind of had to look through your stuff? Your luggage tag wasn’t filled out.” The girl laughed.

“Yours wasn’t either! Me and my teammates were like one minute away from googling the record holder for most San Jose Sharks merch, but it totally makes sense that you’re on the hockey team.” 

“Since we both forgot to write our numbers down, maybe we should do that now?” Chris suggested. The girl grinned, grabbed his phone out of his hand, and opened up a new contact. She punched in a number, and when she handed it back he saw a text of several random emojis addressed to the new contact of “Caitlin Farmer” with a girl farmer emoji and a volleyball emoji.

“Text me sometime, and maybe we can get dinner?” she said, and she was gone with her suitcase. 

Chris collapsed on the couch, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Chowder? You get your suitcase back?” Bitty called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah! and I think I’m in love now!”

2. Nurseydex

“Cheryl, I’m telling you, I had a ton of inspiration on the plane and I wrote some great stuff for act three. No. No, it wasn’t just me thinking it’s great because I popped some melatonin and got really sleepy. It’s like, legit. Yeah, I’ll send it over as soon as I get home and–”

Derek slammed into something. If he’d been holding his phone in his hand (bluetooth is a blessing when you drop stuff easily) it would have launched across the airport. As it was, his post-flight latte was soaking through the nice white shirt of the handsome stranger in front of him.

“Shit,” the stranger said, looking down to survey the damage.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have trusted myself to make a phone call and not be clumsy after such a long flight,” Derek said. He set his briefcase down and pulled a wad of napkins out of the outside pocket. The guy took a deep breath, going from murderous to calm in a few seconds. 

“I wasn’t looking where I was going either, it’s not your fault,” the guy said, setting down his own briefcase and accepting the napkins. He blotted at his shirt.

“Let me pay for the dry cleaning. Or a replacement,” Derek offered. The man shook his head.

“It’s fine, it probably needed to go to the cleaners anyways.” He checked his watch. “If I run, I can probably get a new one before my meeting.” He wadded the napkins into one big ball, picked up his briefcase, and walked towards the exit with a terse nod. Derek, feeling terrible about the whole thing, picked up his own briefcase and walked to baggage claim.

By the time he was reunited with his home office, a cozy bookshelf-lined room in his brownstone, he had almost forgotten about the coffee incident. He was focused on sending the manuscript to Cheryl. Unfortunately, that was going to be difficult, considering he pulled a PC laptop out of the bag instead of his Mac.

Derek stared at the computer for a full minute. He almost couldn’t believe that this was happening to him. Hesitantly, he opened the laptop. On one side of the keyboard there was a weird thing that a few seconds of phone googling told him was a fingerprint scanner. Shit. He hit the space bar experimentally. Something flashed on the screen, and then was replaced with just a plain black screen with red text: ACCESS DENIED

Derek swore. He started to look through the rest of what was in the briefcase, but was disappointed to find it empty except for the laptop’s charger, three packs of gum, and receipts from a lobster shack in Maine. Shit. Nothing in here would tell him anything about the redhead he’d launched a latte at. 

He closed the laptop dejectedly, ignored his editor’s text messages, and went into the kitchen to make himself lunch and feel sorry for himself. This was the universe punishing him for covering a cute guy with coffee. If he had just kept his focus and waited to call his editor later, he could have sent the draft along and saved it and not be desperately trying to remember his inspiration.

Just as the self-pity spiral was really taking off, the doorbell rang. Derek sighed, put down his tea, and walked to the door. When he opened it, it wasn’t Girl Scouts or Jehovah’s Witnesses, but the guy from the airport.

“Cancel whatever you’re doing today, I need to teach you the most basic principles of digital security,” the guy said, pushing past Derek into the dining room. He shoved a stack of papers onto a chair and pulled Derek’s laptop out.

“I’m Will, by the way, I make software that’s hopefully a step ahead of viruses.”

“Is the draft still there?”

“The draft of what?” The guy looked confused.

“My third act breakthrough. I’m a novelist, I need to get it to my editor and I couldn’t remember if I saved it,” Derek explained.

“You know you can set up an auto-save every five minutes or so, right?” Will asked.

“This might be surprising to you, but I’ve never had a cute guy storm into my house and yell at me about computers before.” Will looked up from Derek’s computer, blushing.

“I haven’t had a cute guy dump a gallon of coffee all over me and steal my laptop before, either, but here we are.”

“Maybe you can yell about computers over lunch with me?”

3. Zimbits

Button downs. Tank tops. Slacks. Shorts. Three rolling pins. A pie tin. A half-emptied multipack of sharpies.

No lucky puck. No clothes in his size. No jerseys.

Jack sighed. It would just be too much to ask for anything to go well today. He picked up his phone to call someone with the Falconers, in the hope that they could talk to the airline and sort all this out. At the same time, his phone lit up with Tater’s face.

“Zimmboni! Look on twitter. Small internet baker has your suitcase!” Tater hung up before he could reply, so Jack just opened twitter instead. 

omgcheckplease: A bunch of pucks, some dirty jerseys, and a history textbook. Either I’m back in college or this isn’t my suitcase.

omgcheckplease: .@falcsofficial please tell your #1 player to DM me and come get his shit

omgcheckplease: and @falcsofficial tell him to give me my shit back. my hockey days are in the past, I need rolling pins, not a mouthguard

Jack smiled and laughed in the way a person laughs when they’re alone, just blowing more air than normal out of his nose. He looked through the twitter for a minute– the guy, Eric Bittle, was a Providence-based chef, whose latest tweets were mostly greetings to the various cities he’d been visiting on tour. Jack clicked the media tab on the account, and looked through the pictures. Bittle was cute. He wrote a reply.

zimmboni: .@omgcheckplease how do I send u a DM

omgcheckplease: .@zimmboni you don’t deserve to be verified, oh my god #verifybittle2k17

A few seconds later another notification popped up, and he tapped it to be brought to a DM window.

omgcheckplease: hey! sorry about the mixup. I can only imagine how confused you were to find all my book tour stuff.

zimmboni: Probably as confused as you were finding hockey stuff?

omgcheckplease: I wasn’t joking in my tweets, I did play hockey before I got into the whole cookbook/food show thing

zimmboni: Exactly, I did a book tour last year in the off-season :-)

omgcheckplease: oh my gosh, isn’t it the best and the worst?

zimmboni: I know. It’s great to meet people and talk about your work, but it’s exhausting.

omgcheckplease: that’s why I’m so excited to be back in Providence! at least until the next cookbook.

zimmboni: Well we should probably meet up to trade suitcases. Want to meet somewhere for dinner?

omgcheckplease: don’t trust me to learn where your house is?

zimmboni: I mean, if dinner goes well enough…

omgcheckplease: OH. okay, then, Mr. Zimmermann, it’s a date.

Jack smiled to himself, and got ready for his date.

The culture of college education in this country is so frustrating to me, because it ends up feeling like life and death when it really really shouldn’t. Failing an exam or dropping a class or taking more than four years or even dropping out of school shouldn’t feel like the end of the world, and we all know this, rationally, at yet they do. 

(And people who went to college when you could basically always get into your first choice school and pay for the entire year with your summer job busing tables, perpetuate this by making everything about arbitrary metrics of ~success~ rather than happiness/general life satisfaction).

And yeah, there are a lot of cultural and societal factors at play, not least of which is the way that our education system treats college like the goal, something that must be harnessed to guarantee the highest possible earning potential, a necessity for future success and happiness. 

But expecting to know what you want to do for the rest of your life when you’re what? 17/18/19? is ridiculous. Hell, I’m in my twenties and in grad school and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life most days. Basically no one I graduated from college with is doing what they ultimately want to do (if they even know what they want to do). 

Idk idk. Life isn’t linear and it’s a lot longer than it seems when you’re 19 (which I realize is rich coming from me, the 23 year old), and they way we treat college is kind of (very) fucked up. 

anonymous asked:

Hi. I really like your drawings so I think you can help me. I draw myself and I've got one friend that shows me how to paint humans. But if she sees my pictures, she always laughs and says that they are funny. I don't feel really confident and her meaning means a lot to me, so I think my drawings are just "funny". First I were really proud of them, but then she always comes and laughs. What should I do? P.S. I'm sorry for bad english. I'm from germany.

Um. wow…

That’s how you DON’T teach someone how to draw.  The thing with criticism, an important thing you should listen to, is that first you should find the good things about something you’re up to criticise. 

Say there’s a very detailed colourful drawing but the anatomy is very, very bad. Maybe one leg is bigger than the other, maybe the eyes are different shape, BUT.

You say that, hey, I like your colours! (for example)! You found a good contrast harmony! You’ve put so many details into it! And only then you say (BUT IN A KIND POLITE WAY) what this person should fix. Tell them what is not the greatest about anatomy AND HOW fix it, say that hey! I love your details, but It’s better to first finish the general shape because details can distract from it. Or, if you criticise something first then at least say what’s good about it afterwards.

People who laugh at someone work, I feel like, have absolutely zero interest in your improvement or self-confidence. In my opinion, this kind of people just want to level up in their own eyes by bringing someone down. We all know just how destroying those kind of laughs can be to people who put so much into their work. 

You’ve put your time, your imagination, your sincerity into something that means a lot to you and this itself isn’t funny at all! Your friend should at least respect your effort, because not everyone is born immediately great and have to work their way up.

I’d say don’t listen to your friend and keep being proud of your drawings! And I think you should be proud! Don’t let anyone bring you down like this.

6

Happy 56th Birthday to Michael J. Fox (June 9th, 1961)

“I really love being alive. I love my family and my work. I love the opportunity I have to do things. That’s what happiness is.”