Just waiting to grow my hair out a weeeee bit longer until I endeavor on another hairdye, um, adventure?  After 20 years of little to no interest in killing my hair with peroxide, this is my version of going balls out.

plus my mom can’t kick my ass if I’m all the way over here.  (Or can she?)

during film class, chy’alls

some doodles from the last few days (can’t you tell class has started?)!

Day 79

littlelanguor:

She wanted to hear the four words every human being wanted to hear, deep down: “Out of everyone, you.”  And that “out of everyone, always you” or “Out of everyone, you always.”  There are some nights her heart ached for the validation, to be singled out as extraordinary, as better than the norm, as someone that could never blend into the crowd, not even if she wanted.  Someone that was hilarious but haunting.  Someone that was different but not untouchable.  Someone that mattered and didn’t just exist.  In the wants of her own very selfish indulgence, she wanted to be the difference between the world and the world in which good things happened.

It was ludicrous to say these things out loud, but she knew everyone felt them.  They had to or they weren’t alive. Because where did that come from, anyway?  The need to be needed, the utmost desperation to see that we had a place in this world, that we had a purpose.  It was the cruelest want of all — the need to not only be loved, but insistently deemed irreplaceable, invaluable.  Because it’s not impossible, is it?  People got it every day.  She hears them say the words exactly.  “I need you; I can’t live without you; without you, the world is shit.”  She hears them say it, constantly — that is, say it to everyone but her.

So then why — why is it that she’s still waiting?

Anonymous asked: Happy Birthday! As a birthday present, I would like you to know that I've printed out every one of your stories and I read at least one before I go to bed at night. (Usually the fluffier ones, but I read the sad ones when I'm in one of those moods because reading sad stuff actually makes me feel a little less miserable, for some weird reason.) In conclusion: You're amazing. Publish something already. I swear I'll buy it, regardless of whether it's self-published or not.

Thanks for this! This is just amazeballs, thank you (especially knowing how utterly crap my fluffy ones were)!

And I always joke about self-publishing, where I’ll sell like 7 copies and 6 of them will be bought by my mom. I’ll hold you to it though! I swear I will. So maybe be careful what you say next time.

confettigarden:

(via Anthology Magazine | Decorating | Minakani Walls)

Secretly, I am falling  a p a r t.

I’m writing for the newspaper this semester, which means I have to write a bio.  Everything I am writing in this godforsaken bio makes me sound like a douchebag.  Even at my attempts at sounding chipper and clever makes it worse.  It’s this whole writing-a-bio thing.  I am convinced Mother Teresa could write a bio and it would make even her sound like a douchebag.  A holy one, mind you, but a douchebag nonetheless.

Happy Birthday twin bro! May all your shark dreams come true on this very special day.

"She has learned that her body is precious and it mustn’t be offered carelessly ever again, as it holds a direct connection to her heart."

Steve Martin, Shopgirl. (via thequotehag)

My new obsesh! This stuff (I use it for doodling but writing works too!) just pops right off the page in the cheeriest pops of color.  Easily the best $4 I ever spent.

Someone’s got to make a call on what we’re doing tonight

Via someecards

What a surreal/barfy/hilarious/awkward weekend - I love you hags!

unutterable