So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.

Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.

One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.

All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.

So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.

And Mr. Hargrove loved it.

It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.

Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”

And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.

Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.

One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.

That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.

And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.

And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)

So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.

Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.

i am currently performing in a school tour of romeo and juliet. it is consciously shambolic and we spend most of it fucking up the play when we're not outright making fun of it. generally speaking this short-circuits the teenage impulse to ridicule or disrupt (that's how we trick them into noticing some Shakespeare) but this kid yesterday was SO DETERMINED to fuck up the show that he ended up becoming my favorite part of it. like he kept yelling stuff to try to distract us or throw us off but the stuff he was yelling was helpful? at one point he roared "FUCKING KILL HIM" at the top of his voice, because there was a tense silence onstage he wanted to break. but like... tybalt had just killed mercutio. so I, as Romeo, was able to be like "HEY GREAT IDEA ACTUALLY!" before stabbing Tybalt, as rehearsed. it ruled. like I'm sure he got yelled at later for yelling "fuck" at Guests to the School but honestly he was a much more authentically Shakespearean audience member than most

Tom Paris is if like Riker if the narrative never, not for one second, believed he was cool. Tom Paris is a sentient dad joke. Tom Paris has been framed for murder on two separate planets. Tom Paris lost out in a love triangle to Neelix. Tom Paris daddy-issued so hard he turned himself and Janeway into lizards. Tom Paris told his girlfriend he wanted to commit an ecoterrorism, and his girlfriend was like, "You gotta do what you gotta do." Tom Paris was once ordered by a superior officer to have sex with the girl he liked (he declined). Tom Paris refused to let his child's heritage be erased. Tom Paris got brainwashed by a car.

Anna and Michael are watching twilight on Anna's birthday :D (from Anna's insta)

Listen Michael say: 'And it's fucking freezing, let's go!' :D

People who have been dehumanized and go "fuck you, I'm a human no matter what you say" and people who have been dehumanized and go "fine then, I'm not a human and I'm happy with that" are equally awesome and should hold hands

a woman will be 28 or whatever and all the 24 year olds are in shock like “no fucking way I seriously couldn’t tell. you don’t look near death at all”

I wonder how many people learned this was a thing they could do by seeing the sign

Well I for one just learned that. Thanks for the tip!

Some time your heroes don’t let you down.

you should always be careful when you fall back asleep again after waking up because sometimes you will just have a pleasant little snooze but sometimes you'll get trapped in TIME PRISON. unfortunately there is no way to predict this.

The Philadelphia Inquirer, Pennsylvania, July 29, 1904

Whether he was “crazy” or not, he did not seem to be making good decisions. ^^; The rest of the article says:

Almost SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS worth in today’s money of ham and eggs

Always funny when your dash is curated in such a way as to avoid the initial annoying discourse and the annoying overreaction to that discourse and you only get the, like, two-levels-removed nuanced essay-length polemics and analyses to what sounds like discourse hell out there.

My best advice for people new to adulthood: keep emergency food around.

I don't mean like those prepper type people. I mean keep a granola bar in your purse or backpack. If you have a car, keep a jar of peanuts in there.

This is good for if you miss your bus, or forget your wallet somewhere, or get stuck in traffic. You never know when you are going to feel shaky, and it's better to have something quick and easy on hand, in case you need it.

Having emergency food around is your best friend. Trust me.

(It's an especially good idea if you have any kind of food restriction, whether it's merely being vegetarian or something more complex. You'll be glad of your muesli bar or whatever when you find yourself somewhere without safe food.)

if you’re jewish and need to take time off from work for the high holidays here’s your reminder to request time off now so you don’t forget

signal booooost

This is what working at home for me is like. Not pictured is Sage screaming on the counter

Photo proof of being haunted while trying to work

There's nothing shameful about sex or masturbation or having kinks. Getting off isn't a guilty pleasure. It's just a pleasure. It's normal and healthy. You deserve to feel good and enjoy your body. Don't let whatever hangups you've got rob you of that.

⚢ every day is butch appreciation day! ⚢