whenever people learn that my bf and i have separate rooms they’re like WOW that is so new age, and i don’t see the problem with couples sleeping in separate beds, i actually think it’s very healthy to have your own space especially when you first move in together, i don’t know why it’s so frowned upon, it should be more common etc etc and i usually laugh awkwardly because i didn’t even think that was weird at all. like we’re two people in an apartment and one bedrooms are only like $100 less a month, why wouldn’t we get the set up that lets us have two closets? but i’m bored of saying that so now i’m gonna start saying actually it’s not healthy and i only let him sleep at the foot of my bed if he’s good
gonna put this in my work email signature so the people i’m too shy to joke around still know i’m fun
they need to stop casting timothee chalamet in franchise films he just needs to be luca guadagnino and wes anderson’s little pet actor they pass back and forth like a child of divorce heading to his other parent’s house on the weekends
gonna put this in my work email signature so the people i’m too shy to joke around still know i’m fun
im never taking this airplane donut pillow off. im gonna be buried in this. humans who have accepted this biological modification are superior to twig necks (what we call people who have not yet adapted)
ring with figure of seated cat
New Kingdom, 18th Dynasty, ca. 1390 BC. Egyptian faience. Now in the Art Institute of Chicago. X80
hi are you insane
I watched a bit of an Undertale LP today and was struck by the subtle melancholy of an early puzzle, a room where the path forward is surrounded by invisible pitfalls. Even if you don’t solve the puzzle by mapping the path below to the path above, or if you are unable to memorize the path below, persistence will eventually draw the way forward for you as the record of your falls (holes) outline the path above. This hypothetical archive of player failure is exactly what outlines the path below: the surrounding dead leaves are red as the blood-splatter of untold fallen children. Gravestones pave the road.
i have to confess that for a good few years of my life, whenever i had a creative writing assignment, there was like a 25% chance that instead of writing something new i’d just pull from one of the three short stories i’d written previously that i was proud of, switch some stuff around so it fit the prompt, and then submit it. there was like a 3 year stretch where i wrote absolutely zero original fiction, just plagiarism of my own stuff. well i just got a prompt for a short story contest that exactly fit the plot of my short story i reused the most and won two different paid contests for (it was college, don’t get mad at me) so i went back to see about polishing it up and for the first time since writing it i was like… wow, this is the thing i was so proud of? i’m a way better writer than this now. and now i’m just writing something original.
























