The poorly-written narrative of the pathologically self-aware is coming soon.
في المشمش ...
Instead, I give you Homestuck, sketches, linguistics, and crude sexual humor.
Go ahead, try your luck.
I’m pretty sure 90% of young adulthood is being embarrassed about teenage-hood.
Wow, I was kind of a dick.
Also, unfortunate truth: it is entirely possible that some part of my sexuality was altered by all the meds I’ve taken, as permanently decreased sex drive is a known side-effect. Probably not, but I’m already pretty insecure about whether I should actually identify as ace, so it doesn’t help. I’m hardly angsting, but it is frustrating.
Sometimes I feel like someone tried surgically removed by sexuality, but they were drunk and their degree was forged, so they carvedhalf of it out and left just enough random bits stuck in to confuse the hell out of me.
What is bliss? Does it come from sex? Drugs? True love?
No, it comes from taking off your fucking too-small strapless bra at the end of the day.
Wearing a fucking binder was more comfortable than that twisted contraption.
I used to see these stories going around, about these horrible backwards laws and terrible shit, and think, thank God it’s so far away from me. But I’ve seen, this year alone, two Arizona laws (the anti-trans* bathroom thing and now the right to kick queers out of your business thing) being discussed by my friends back East, and it’s kinda surreal to actually be living here. These aremy elected officials.
There was even a petition going around about some asshole who pickets on the campus of my university! And that guy has a family, and they all come out several days a week with their signs; I have personally been harassed by them and they used to just be something to shake my head at online.
And that’s not even going into all the racist, anti-immigrant bullshit that comes with living so close to the border, or the reminders everywhere that this is stolen land, or, uh, something about capitalism. Fuck that particular economic model, too.
Basically, I’m feeling like I’ve been pretty sheltered all my life, and now I’m a tiny, tiny bit less sheltered, and it’s made me all political. Grr.
I used to think that if you want to turn someone into a feminist, send them to a women’s college.
Now, I can add: if you want to turn someone into an angry, determined feminist, send them to a women’s college then transfer them to a public university.
Having bright-dyed hair is an experience defined mainly by getting attention from strangers (especially children) and pushing the limits of hygiene by showering as little as possible to slow the fading.
This dark side goes unacknowledged in all the beautiful hair-shots you’ll see, but it’s true. I will go to any length to avoid sweating, chlorine, or shampoo, because this shit washes out hella fast. I will gel-up my hair to hide how nasty-greasy it is. Semi-permanent, my ass.
At least I don’t have to worry about rain. Back East I stained several shirts purple because I got caught in an unexpected shower.
God knows why, but I feel as if today I “had game.” Or something. Idk, I’m pretty terrible at reading attraction-related social cues, but I’ll take imagined flirtation over no flirtation at all. Especially coming from “the ladies.”
Evidently, none of my pretend admirers have seen the way I type, because I’m pretty sure the putting “hip” things in quotes bit would just kill any admiration on the spot.
I’m such a fucking dork.