Columbia College. Fiction Writing Major.
Stuck in Chicago.
THIS IS MY FACE IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING.
(I tend to post it a lot, so if you don't like it then you better skedaddle.)
I know I've got a big ego. I really don't know why it's such a big deal though.
Prone to posting: pictures of my face, silly details about my day, TMIs, complaints, porn (#NSFW if you have to Tumblr savior it), "writing," feminism, body positivity, Doctor Who/Buffy freakouts, crude language, and self love.
I'm a big advocate for underwear dancing as self care.
Also into helping other people celebrate their sexy selves.
SUBMIT your pictures to the Selfie Love Project.
You should probably technically only look at this shit if you're 18+ but whatever, kid, I'm not your mom.
♡♡♡ BLOG LIKE UR TUMBLR FAMOUS. ♡♡♡
Sometimes when I’m rereading essays I wrote, I just kind of want to skim a paragraph and quit reading it because it’s too heady and ~intellectual~ for me.
Does that even make the least bit of sense? It’s like I have a superhero alter ego whose only superpower is that she’s super analytical and she just kind of takes over my brain and writes essays for me.
I saw this movie last night and it changed my life.
If anyone ever gives you shit about your food stamps, just tell them, “The government’s fucking me, so it might as well pay me.”
I’m working the AV desk until 5:30, which means I have two and a half more hours (after already wasting about two and a half hours) to work on whatever I need to (and I have a lot), but I literally can’t bring myself to do it and I feel like the “personal emergency” excuse (which is actually valid in my case at the moment) can only excuse so much.
I’m kind of giving up, though. All I need to do is pass my classes and I’ve never in my life had trouble accomplishing that. Missing one week’s worth of work isn’t going to break me. And the stuff I can’t miss, I’ll just get done after all this is sorted out.
Just needed to give myself a pep talk. Anyway, sorry if I disappear for a bit. I’ll probably still be on here, but I doubt I’ll be responding to asks and my real life friends might have a tough time getting a hold of me.
Breathe in, breathe out.
This is what happens when I try to comfort my friends about boys - Part 2
This is what happens when I try to comfort my friends about boys.
HEY, UNIVERSE, HOW’S ABOUT YOU SEND ME A MONDAY THAT DOESN’T INCLUDE A PANIC ATTACK? WOULDN’T THAT BE NICE? LET’S GIVE IT A SHOT.
I also know I’m getting old because when I was watching The Fosters and Lexi and Jesus had sex, instead of being like, “Yes, finally, look how cute they are, look how sweet he is to her!” I was just like, “Ew gross, they’re 15, I don’t want to see that.”
But I know I’m not getting TOO old because when Lexi runs away and her parents are freaking out, I was just like, “What the fuck, get over it, she has agency, she knows what she’s doing, she can take care of herself!”
I know I’m getting old because on my first watch of Heroes, I had a super boner for Hayden Panettiere and Milo Ventimiglia, but on my rewatch, Hayden looks like a baby, Milo’s face is gross and I just wanna threeway with Ali Larter and Adrian Pasdar.
On Saturday, my boyfriend’s roommates’ college freshman brother was hanging around and he went in the other room to write a paper and I thought, “Ah I remember when I had to write papers.” And then I was like, “Oh shit I have to write a paper!!!”
The Senioritis is strong with this one.
Me, if I ever write a book that sells one copy ever.“How do you like being a best-selling author?”
“I love it, I love it, I love it! I love it! I love it! I love it love it love it love it! I LOVE IT! Every second of it, every second of it. I love it.”
This is how I feel about my whole college experience.
A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens. 1859.
Happy Birthday Charles Dickens! You would be 202 years old today, so it’s probably good that you’re dead.
Pre-order the Shit Rough Drafts book here!