have i ever told y’all about the greatest moment of my academic career

i was a freshman in college and i had this history teacher who was ~edgy~ and his hotness level on ratemyprofessor was off the charts and he was the first teacher i ever heard use the word “fuck.” anyway he would do this thing every so often where we’d have a “quiz” and the first two questions were always really easy and the last one was hard - they were all similar questions, and the point was to show what you learn about history and what you don’t. 

so one day he’s like okay kids time for a quiz and the first question was who killed abraham lincoln. the second question was who killed JFK. third question was who killed william mckinley. 

we all take a few minutes and write down our answers, and then the teacher asks the questions again so we can shout out the answers. everybody answered the first two with really no problem.

now, keep in mind that this class was at 9 a.m. and i was exhausted All The Time during my freshman year of college so i sat in the back in my sweats and never said a word and the teacher definitely had no clue who i was. 

so you can imagine his surprise when he asked the class who shot william mckinley and without missing a beat i said, “czolgosz,” pronounced correctly and everything. 

my teacher froze and in a very stern voice asked, “what was that? what did someone just say?”

i repeated: czolgosz.

my teacher: “who said that?”

i raised my hand, and my super cool history teacher glared at me. he then asked me how the hell i knew the answer. he said that in the TWENTY YEARS he’d been teaching this stupid class, nobody, not A SINGLE PERSON, had ever known the answer to that question.

i then had to quietly explain to a room full of people that there’s a musical called assassins and there’s a song about czolgosz shooting william mckinley at the great pan american exposition in buffaloooooooo (in buffaloooooooo)

The arts are important.

I shocked a teacher once because I could recite the preamble to the US Constitution (got bonus points to), She asked why I’d taken it upon myself to memorize it. I had to explain it was in a School House Rock song….

I shocked church with my ‘math skills’ when they were asking how many seconds in a minute, minutes in an hour, hours in a day, days in a year, now how about minutes in a year - and I call out five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes without pausing to think, cos Rent

Once aced a religion class pop quiz that asked me to list all of Jacob’s sons since they’re the names of the 12 tribes of Israel. The one and only time I’ve been thankful for Andrew Lloyd Webber. I even got points for getting the birth order correct.

me @ every self-righteous STEM major who derides the arts: art IS learning you fool! you baboon! you needlessly divisive motherfucker!!!

You’ve come back to me.

How to make ancient Chinese lip rouge by 李子柒

All of her videos are so great tbh

her vids are like… Films.

she a has video where she deadass makes furniture out of bambo, a rustic sink out of a rock and literally makes a silk blanket…like from the start, she collects the silk, stretches it, everything, she a real crafter(also, i really want a video where she shows how to make those massive multipurpose cleavers she’s always using.)

I love love love her videos

i love it when you accidentally meet eyes with a stranger in public and you flash a quick polite smile and they look at you like they wish you were dead in a ditch

I’ve seen this several times on my dash and always with southerners being confused in the tags why the rest of the US is like this, and as a southerner, I have to say, SAME. Like, there’s plenty to hate about the south, don’t get me wrong, but at least in general we have public courtesy down to a science. I ordered at a Sonic out West once and the guy specifically had someone take over his headset so he could come out and shake my hand because he was from Tennessee and it was the first time since he moved West that he heard anyone say “Yes sir.” And it’s just…. Automatic for me? And this polite smile thing, people will jump and glare and I’m just trying to be friendly not awkward? What else is a socially anxious southern child to do upon accidentally making eye contact? Look down and hurry away? Isn’t that rude??? Someone explain why is smiling met with such anger I am confused and afraid.

Exactly!! When I moved to Missouri I was baffled at how rude everyone is! Like I saw someone I knew at Walmart and stopped to chat and they didn’t even stop! They just went ‘hi’ and moved on. Like????

And when I moved here I made cookies for the neighborhood, cuz that’s what you do and the first place I went they said “we don’t eat things with sugar” and shut the door.

Like why do y’all hate everyone so much?

I’m Canadian and am also confused

Well yeah everyone knows Canadians are the friendliest people in the world

I’m from Indiana and I’m pretty sure if you don’t talk to someone you know In Wal-Mart for at least 5 minutes you go to jail

No but that would still be rude in kentucky

You are expected to talk for at least 15 minutes, say goodbye (like, a “take care y’all, tell me how that knee is doin”) and then you talk for another ten minutes, move a little further apart and say goodbye again (“well I better get going tell your nana I said hi”) and then you talk for a while and say goodbye one more time (“I’ll see y’all at church on Sunday/school/Jo-mart/Nana’s funeral”) and move on to the next person

And don’t even get me started on food etiquette

It’s not a south v. west thing, it’s a city thing. That’s why New Yorkers are the purest version of this. And it’s why I get both sides. I grew up in a small town in Northern California, and it was proud of all the small town things – “you can leave your door unlocked” and all that. I got a job for a while as a bank teller, and this coworker of mine had moved there from New York. I liked him (I tend to get along with folks) but a lot of people thought he was rude. “short” “impatient” even “brusk” were some descriptions of him, not just from our coworkers, but from the bank customers too. They complained because he always rushed them, never wanted to make small talk, etc. One day I was working next to him, and I heard him verbally pushing yet another customer along, just racing him through the transaction against his will, and I thought, I’m gonna say something to him about it. As soon as the customer left though, before I could say anything, my coworker goes “damn I hate people like that, get to  the front of the line and want to tell me their whole life story. So RUDE!” So I say something like, how is he the one that was rude to you? And goes, like he can’t believe how stupid I’m being, “ not to me, to all those people in line behind him that want to finish up here and get on with the rest of their day! You’re at the bank, you know why you’re here, you step up, you do a polite greeting and get the fuck down to business. Everybody has shit to do, and they can’t do it until you shut up about your life story that zero people drove down here to listen to. It’s so selfish! I can’t stand people like that”   Since then, I’ve lived in San Francisco, and L.A., and Montgomery Alabama, and Germany and Portland and Oakland and a bunch of little ass towns like Suisun Ca, and Kenwood and all kinds of places, Santa Cruz and Rohnert Park. And I’ve thought about the thing that guy started me noticing. It’s true. The closer in to a city (and the larger the city) the more the concept of polite changes from “how you are effecting the person you are communicating with” to “how you are effecting the people packed in around you” In Oakland there are like, zero grocery stores (Oakland is literally documented as a “food desert”) and so the best grocery store in Berkeley is also a favorite grocery store of Oakland residents and it is… full. You’ll spend a full 30 minutes in the snake of cars circling around in the parking lot waiting for somebody to finish shopping and leave so a parking spot opens up. Once inside, it’s more of the same. Shopping carts are cart-front to ass cheek. You literally can’t reach onto a shelf for a box of cereal without waiting for somebody to give you a break in traffic. Sometimes you get stuck standing in a single spot for several minutes, boxed in on all sides.  I’ve only been twice, and I swear to all holy gods that if I saw two people trying to catch up on chit chat while we all tried to maneuver around them, I would been reaching for my murdering stick. It’s called skype motherfuckers, go the fuck home and talk to each other, jfc, the rest of us are trying to make a deadline for some other shit we gotta get done today. Now, going back home, to small town Nor Cal, yeah, I don’t want to be rude, I’m gonna stop and say hi, I’m gonna ask about your family, I’m gonna rack my brain and remember that you had a sick cat or a trip you were trying to take or an interest in boats, and I’m gonna ask about that shit, fuck yeah tell me about how the tomatoes are coming in this year, I hear the birds are worse than ever. Anyway, city folk ain’t rude, they just polite different; suitable for city life.

This is such a great explanation, and really important.

thoughts on the friendzone

when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors.  we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards.  he wasn’t the only one.  there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”

i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was

in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face.  we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time.  one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.

in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly.  everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.

when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it.  people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly.  he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us.  he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.

in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga.  he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention.  i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day.  i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole?  but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes.  there’s no room for nice guys like me.”

i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?

he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know.  being friendly.  i thought we were friends.  but then, how many times had i thought that before?

how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?

how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”

there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams.  beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.

when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.

i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me.  he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly.  but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.

“don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back?  don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?”

when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say

when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill.  and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.

but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”

they were

“she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.”

so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:

put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex.  that he just wanted her for a relationship.  a girl who was just an object to win, a prize.  a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.

maybe she friendzoned you.  but you girlfriendzoned her, first.

Even if you don’t read it all, read the last sentence. Then you will understand so much about me and other girls.

Heard some important information on Twitter today, and thought I’d post it here for anyone who may not have heard it. This is actually a thing, devised by human rights organisation called Karma Nirvana.

Reblog to save a life?

Reblog to save a life.

Sharing because it’s actually a verified and sourced thing and not one of those dumbass fake tip posts.

Fuck me thats clever, actually worth reblogging

Burnout, 2018.

Three years ago, my constantly worsening sleep deprivation and stress resulted in a burnout. I’m 30 years old now, at the time of posting this comic, and I still haven’t recovered fully. I still have the heart symptoms - even the smallest amount of stress brings the symptoms back. It’s likely I will never recover enough to work a fulltime job again and I can’t go back to high-stress environments like customer service. But that’s alright. I am more than just my work. I’m slowly learning to be merciful towards myself and to show myself the same kindness I show others, and I think that’s very important.

This is my story and I won’t be ashamed any more.

I needed this. Especially the percentage part. As someone who compares myself to others a lot, I really needed that.

Your best is yours, not anyone else’s

Just to emphasize

You’re doing amazing, all of you guys are. I believe in you all, and I’m proud. 

Keep going, you got this

Something that really breaks my heart is the cruel indifference that some people have towards pets or animals that they personally don’t enjoy. Like I hear so many stories about someone losing a beloved pet snake or rat or tarantula, only for their friends to say something like “good riddance”.

My best friend does not like my gerbils at all. She jokingly calls them vermin and teases me for being the only 25 year old woman that still has pet gerbils. She came to visit me one weekend when one of my sweet babies was really sick, and unfortunately called me at work to solemnly let me know my gerbil had passed. The entire drive home I was trying not to cry because we had plans and I didn’t want to ruin the weekend with my ridiculous grief over a rodent. When I got home, my best friend was sitting in the driveway, hand painting a little coffin with my gerbil’s name on it. I immediately started sobbing. She went and got me a glass of wine, and played a Stevie Nicks song on her phone while she dug a grave. After the somber funeral in my backyard, she cancelled our evening plans and we walked to a bar, where my best friend completely un-ironically held up a glass and toasted my dead gerbil, thanking her for the joy she’d brought me.

The point of this story is, you don’t have to share or even understand your friend’s interests to show them respect and empathy in a time of loss. It’s alright if you don’t like a friend’s unconventional pet, you certainly don’t have to! However, pet loss can be incredibly painful, and I think it is always best to err on the side of kindness.

this is an insult

I once applied and interviewed at a bookstore cafe for a barista position. It was way closer to my home, and I had almost a decade of experience working in a coffee shop at that point. 

Got to the interview, and it turned out they didn’t want a barista, they wanted someone to spearhead their new cafe, as the cafe that had been in the store before didn’t want to resign their lease with the bookshop. They wanted to put their own cafe in its place, all new menus etc. They needed someone experienced to train their new staff, to handle window displays, to communicate with the bookstore owners about changes and needs of the cafe, to be able to handle inventory and ordering.

Okay, I had basically done most of that stuff at my previous job. I asked if cafe positions would also be required/trained to work the bookstore. They would. They would be required to run the book sale counter, stock and reshelf books, and help bookshop customers find things. They would also–despite having an outside cleaning company–have to help maintain bathroom cleanliness. They’d have to take out trash, and clean spills, and vacuum.  Wow, that’s a lot, I said. Is this a manager’s position, then?

No, I was told, it wasn’t, but there was a chance that after a training period it might become one. And that made me pause, because I’d been working as the front-of-house manager at my cafe, and I knew how much work that entailed, and what kind of money I was making, and it was only the commute that had me looking for a new job. So I asked what the job paid. $8. E I G H T  D O L L A R S. Per hour. Barely above minimum. For all of that work. For someone they expected to get an entirely new cafe up and running, and then also do the work of the bookstore and the cleaning company as well.  I thanked the woman for the interview, said I’d have to talk to my significant other about the impact a four dollar pay cut would have on our finances, and that I wasn’t sure it was the job for me. She asked me to sleep on it, and she’d call me the next day.  This is a job I was way more than qualified for. I had years of experience doing exactly the things they wanted. It was a convenient location, close to my home–I could walk there if I absolutely had to. I did not go home and talk about that four dollar pay cut and what it would do to our finances. I knew as soon as she told me that not only was it not feasible for us, it was downright insulting. That little money? For a frankly ridiculous list of responsibilities and expectations? She called back the next day. I thanked her again, and told her in no uncertain terms that my time was worth way more than what they were offering. And whenever people bitch about Millennials being lazy, not spending money, not buying houses…whatever the complaint of the month is…I think about the very nice lady who conducted this interview, and how confused she was that I didn’t want the job. 

I had to join the outpouring of love for Kelly Marie Tran in the #fanartforrose thing. I love Rose so here’s a chibi of her. Enjoy!

Do not copy, alter, reference or repost my art without my permission.

Reblogs and likes are love! Help spread the love by reblogging!

Critter Pool Ramp

more art from Magic: The Gathering

Reblogging again bc this is my favorite magic artist and not only is her art fucking gorgeous but 

She’s a total fucking babe? Who uses herself as a model for her art???? And also,,,

Uses 

as model for shit too,,, I love them.. 

This may just be my experience as an autistic person, but the kids I’ve nannied whose parent’s complain of ‘bad awful in cooperative selfish autistic behavior’ are… Not like that? At all?

Like, for example, I cared for a kid for a while who was nonverbal and didn’t like being touched. Around six years old? Their parent said that they were fussy and had a strict schedule, and that they had problems getting them to eat. Their last few nannies had quit out of frustration.

So, I showed up. And for the first little while, it was awkward. The kid didn’t know me, I didn’t know them, you know how it is. And for the first… Day and a half, maybe? I fucked up a few times.

I changed their diaper and they screamed at me. I put the TV off and they threw things. Not fun, but regular upset kid stuff.

Next time, I figured, hell, I wouldn’t like being manhandled and ordered around either. Who likes being physically lifted out of whatever it is they’re doing and having their pants yanked off? Fucking few, that’s who.

Next time, I go, ‘hey, kiddo. You need a new diaper?’ and check. ‘I’m gonna go grab a new one and get you clean, okay?’ ‘Wanna find a spot to lay down?’ ‘Alright, almost done. Awesome job, thanks buddy’.

I learned stuff about them. They liked a heads up before I did anything disruptive. They didn’t mind that I rattled of about nothing all day. They didn’t like grass or plastic touching their back. They were okay with carpets and towels. They liked pictionary, and the color yellow, and fish crackers, and painting. They didn’t look me in the face (which was never an issue- I hate that too, it fucking sucks) but I never had reason to believe that they were ignoring me.

Once I learned what I was doing wrong, everything was fine. Did they magically “”“become normal”“” and start talking and laughing and hugging? No, but we had fun and had a good time and found a compromise between what I was comfortable with and what they were comfortable with. (For the record, I didn’t magically sailor-moon transform into a socially adept individual, either. In case anyone was wondering.)

I don’t like eye contact. It’s distracting and painful and stresses me out.

They didn’t like eye contact either.

Is eye contact necessary to communication? No. So we just didn’t do it.

Was there ever a situation where I HAD to force them to drop everything and lay down on the lawn? No. So the thirty second warning came into play, and nobody died.

“But they never talked!”

No, they didn’t. And they didn’t know ASL, and they didn’t like being touched.

So you know what happened?

My third day in, they tugged on my shirt. ‘Hey monkey, what’s up?’ I asked. And they tugged me towards the kitchen. ‘oh, cool. You hungry?’. They raised their hands in an ‘up’ gesture. ‘you want up? Cool.’ and I lifted them up. They pointed to the fridge. I opened it. They grabbed a juice box out of the top shelf, and pushed the door closed again. ‘oh sweet, grape is the best. You are an individual of refined taste.’ I put them down and they went back to their room to play Legos.

“But they didn’t say please or thank you!” “But you should be teaching them communication skills!” “But!” Lalalalala.

1. The entire interaction was entirely considerate and polite. I was never made uncomfortable. I was made aware of the problem so that I could help them solve it. There was no mess, no tears, no bruises, no shouting.

2. Did my brain collapse into a thousand million fragments of shattered diamond dust out of sheer incomprehension? No? Then their communication skills were fine. Goal realized, solution found, objective complete. They found the most simple and painless way to communicate the situation and then did it.

Kids are not stupid. AUTISTIC kids are not stupid.

I’m willing to bet real cash money that the real reason the last few nannies had quit had a million times more to do with their own ability to cope, not the kid’s.

To this day, that was the most relaxed and enjoyable job I’ve ever had.

And I know I don’t speak for everyone. All kids are different. All adults are different. But in my time and experience, pretty much 95% of all my difficulties with children come from ME not being understanding enough. Every single “problem child” I’ve worked with turned out to be a pretty cool person once I started figuring out how to put my ego aside and let them set the pace.

Again, not speaking universally, here. I’m just saying. Sometimes social rules are bullshit, you know? People are people

Have you ever read an article about the study that found that teaching the parents to cope with autistic kids yields better results than other therapies? Because this is exactly what they were talking about.

“There’s always room for talented people! Don’t let anyone discourage you by telling you what a “small world” it is! I mean, it is a tight circle but if you’re good enough, the circle will widen! Also… be nice to everyone!” 

We’re celebrating the many voices of Grey DeLisle this Women’s History Month - the incredible voice actress behind Lola, Lana, and Lily Loud from The Loud House, Sam on Danny Phantom, Vicki on the Fairly OddParents, Frida on El Tigre, Azula on Avatar: the Last Airbender, and so many more! 💜💚