Somebody
buy me the wishcandy painting with the floating donuts and the handcuffed girl who’s forced to just stare at them.
So I can stare at that and feel sorry for myself.
I’m eating lots of chocolate tonight.
Since this will occur… I really want to try those Cadbury Creations things. They look ahmezen.
Uhhhh
Why is it raining?
I want to go for a run.
Essays are evil.
I love Lloyd and I want him to come over.
I’m being quite explicit today.
I actually don’t want to go for a run. I hate sprints and interval training.
I make myself do it because I’m masochistic.
It’s a good feeling afterward.
Ha. I just realised my head has pins and needles.
How does that even happen?
(Source: bleedgold)
(via xynnapolihp)
when ur sad always remember that u don’t look like you did in 6th grade
lololol
(Source: snarg)
Ha.
Today I was analysing a story and based my theories on my knowledge of wine, and what this said about and how it created the sense of an unreliable narrator.
I felt oh so very clever. For all the wrong reasons.
(I’m never going to tell a potential employer about this blog. I purposely structure my sentences so badly. So it’s like me talking. And I’m a bad talker. Bad bad bad.)
I need to write an essay. I need to stop talking about sentence structure and unreliable narrators and write some sentences. With nice structure.
(via lycalopexculpaeus)
I think it’s good for a person to spend time alone. It gives them an opportunity to discover who they are and to figure out why they are always alone.
—Amy Sedaris, I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence (via larmoyante)
(via lycalopexculpaeus)
I should write more.
About sophisticated grownup things that people care about.
So then I can go for internships and be all like “oh ya! ya! totally have so much talent ya! here’s my url babe! can i call you babe? even though i just met you? ya i’d totally feel like really weird if i didn’t- like, just, way too real you know? so ya! check it out babe! hire me ya?!”
academic cultures is so depressing. why won’t you let me live in ignorance. i don’t want to be in an industry full of fake gross fuck heads. i suppose i’m quite good at being fake though. so long as i can come home to real people. but what if the fake creative industries people want me to go out and fake party with them? and then i’ll miss all the important planning if i don’t go. but then if i do, i miss reality. real grace.
being an accountant sounds like it would be more fun.
(Source: shoulderblades, via thehorror)
(Source: missupsetter, via thehorror)
