Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win
Month
identical twins have so much power tbh last year my lab partner steve came in with pierced ears and everyone was like whoa steve when did u get them pierced and he was like i’ve had them for 3 years. i’m not steve. and he just sat down and started taking notes. the next day steve came in and was like did u guys see my brother jake yesterday lmao we switched schools
friendly reminder that uk students aged 15-18 will be spending the next few months constantly crying so give them a hug if you see one
There are people in this world like Sam Pepper and people like Emma Watson.
Don’t be a Sam Pepper.
Be an Emma Watson.
Emma Watson is someone who Hermione would look up to
scully: mulder what do you think happened here?
mulder:
it must be really sad for chris evans when he finds a nice shirt that fits him really well but then he accidentally flexes his mammoth fucking biceps and hopelessly rips the sleeves into a thousand pieces, which i assume happens at least three times a week
I have waited tables. I’ve worked in bars. You know who tips well? The working poor, the lower middle class, and people who work or have worked in service industries. You know who tips shitty or not at all? Rich people, upper middle class people, and privileged fuckers who use their “moral opposition” to tipping to be cheap assholes.
I’ve worked at a casino and as a delivery driver. This is 100% accurate.
tips to write college papers
- begin with “buckle your seatbelts, motherfuckers, because in eight short pages i am going to learn u a thing that i only learned myself about two hours ago, so sit down, shut up, and enjoy the experience of my 4-am-redbull-induced-self-hatred-fuelled-writing-extravaganza”
- erase when finished with the paper
BUT THIS ACTUALLY WORKS
MAKE SURE YOU ERASE IT THOUGH
America, you do not exist in a vacuum.
Gun control works.
Higher minimum wage works.
Free health care works.
Free higher education works.we know
too bad the government doesn’t
ppl who think that saying “I love you” to someone a lot makes it lose it’s meaning are so boring literally what could make you think that? if someone tells you they love you like 3 times in an hour it means that 3 separate times they were sitting there and thinking about you and how wonderful you are like. smh. say I love you to everyone that you love as often as possible bc sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are people who love you
asexual and aromantic visibility is So Important because I’ve never seen a single aro/ace self-discovery story that didn’t include some variation of the phrase “I thought I was broken.”
Does anyone else feel really guilty when they start talking about their own feelings and then immediately regret saying anything because you just feel so annoying and pathetic and ugh
so my school had this thing called “senior skip day,” except that senior skip day didn’t exist and every year the administration sent out emails in the spring that were like DON’T FUCKIN SKIP CLASS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE RESTRICTION (restriction was like, my boarding school’s equivalent of detention where instead of staying after school you had to go to bed early and help stuff envelopes advertising the summer program until your hands were BLOODIED AND CRIPPLED BY CARPAL TUNNEL) and every year the seniors were like YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!
anyway, my senior year, we all got together and nattered at each other until some brave soldier (i feel like it was my friend paula but WHO KNOWS) was like “OK SENIOR SKIP DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!!!! NOBODY GO TO CLASS OR UR A SCAB.”
we also used this email system to communicate with one another that has very deeply informed the way i understand email and which probably makes it very frustrating to be my friend and receive emails that have subject lines like “URGENT” and then just 42 links to the same florida georgia line youtube video.
so the day of reckoning rolls around and my alarm goes off at 8 (class started at 8:05 but i liked to PLAY WITH FIRE when it came to being late; my mom actually asked the school to stop emailing her when i was a sophomore because i was late so often that their rote “Mrs. Ofgeography we are emailing you to say—” was CLOGGING UP HER INBOX and she was like “i GET IT MY CHILD IS THE MOST BORING MISCREANT OF ALL TIME.”) and i looked at my roommate elle and she looked at me and went, “you going?”
“hell no,” i said. “YOLO. they can’t punish all of us.”
elle, who was far prettier and far cooler than i was with the notable exception of her obsession with tswift’s “love story” and her tendency to look at the endangered species list and cry sometimes during study hall, quickly bizounced across the street to this shopping center thing where all the cool kids smoked in secret where huge trucks dropped off clothes for the Dress Barn. i think there were also tennis courts nearby. more importantly there was this chinese food delivery place and a lil restaurant that made HELLA BAGELS.
off goes elle! meanwhile i’m like, “yessssss i’m gonna use senior skip day to watch 14 hours of tv shows and eat frozen peanut butter bars that i stole from the dining hall! I’M GONNA LIVE LIKE I’M 23 ALONE IN CHICAGO ON A WEEKEND WHEN MY ONLY PLAN IS TAKEOUT AND CUDDLING WITH THE FAUX-SNOW-LEOPARD BLANKET I WILL ONE DAY SURELY OWN.”
of course, during this time the administration was continuing to send out emails that reminded us with increasing urgency that senior skip day was NOT A THING and that we were ALL GETTING RESTRICTION if we didn’t get our STUPID ASSES TO CLASS, GODDAMNIT, WE ARE NOT RUNNING A CIRCUS HERE.
but i was like! yolo, motherfuckers!!! i already got into college, YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME.
at some point during the day elle and our friend ginna came back to the room with takeout from the chinese delivery place and we sat on our floor eating it and probably watching veronica mars or looking at the endangered species list and crying.
all of a sudden, elle said, “guys shut up, guys shut up, GUYS SHUT UP,” and ginna and i were like, “WHAT we have a LOT to SAY about FRIED FUCKING DUMPLINGS, ELLE,“ and elle said, "did you hear that?”
“hear what?”
“that!”
‘that’ was the sound of one of our dorm moms, mrs. f, knocking on doors and saying things like, “IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR BUTTS TO CLASS IN 5 MINUTES YOU’RE ON CATEGORY 4 RESTRICTION FOREVER.” elle quickly scampered up our raised beds to hide in the corner, where a tiny human like elle could actually hide from view; i leapt immediately into what we called a closet but was basically a cubby with a flap that was DEFINITELY not meant for a 5'8” individual with knobby as hell knees.
our door, which was never locked because we both hated the effort of typing in the lock code, opened. mrs. f said, “mollyhall?”
i held my breath.
you can see the flaw in my logic.
mrs. f sighed. “mollyhall, i know you’re in here, i literally heard your voice ten seconds ago.”
“mollyhall, i know you’re in the closet.”
“mollyhall—”
there was a creak. mrs. f stopped. it wasn’t actually a “creak,” so much as this like, prolonged groan? like it’s the sound an elephant would make if it sat on a really large accordion.
i poked my head out of the closet. mrs. f looked at me. elle sat up.
i said, “where’s ginna?”
“um,” said elle, “she’s in the—”
ginna yes.
i really wish i could describe the sound the ceiling made when it collapsed. it sounded a lot like the way losing your breath feels. i sort of remember ginna falling in like, really slow motion, like i could see the expression on her face. i didn’t really think about how i would describe this in words. ginna’s face said:
she belly flopped onto the floor. i mean, the girl bounced. and then she just laid there. mrs. f looked at her. elle looked at her. i looked at her, still mostly in the closet. we were all going to get category 4 restriction forever.
ginna said, “hi, mrs. f. i feel like i should explain.”
