Im A One Of Us Is Lying A Good Girls Guide To Murder The Inheritance Games Girlie By Heart

diary entry 25.11

genuinely stunned at the fantastic choice for Percy not to pray to his absent and unknown father—like he did in the books—but to his mother.

the show is really taking us to one of riordan’s central theses straight off the bat.

parenthood isn’t about power and legacy and the recognition of shared blood.

It’s about the incredible act of showing up for your child—again and again and a-fucking-gain. That’s how you inspire respect. That’s how you become a child’s patron and beloved god.

her eyes were the sickly green of the sky before a tornado, and to his horror he discovered she could throw cows around just as easily

Things You Will Say To Yourself Pre Exam

Me: Alright, you got this. You can do this. You can learn everything that has been taught this semester.

Me: It's time. It's time to study, to cram, to learn.

Me: No. No, no. No, no, no. No, no, no, just no. You do NOT NEED TO WATCH ANOTHER EPISODE OF ______. Study. Go watch a lecture.

Me: You need to get off social media. Actually you just need to get off your phone. Put it downstairs in the living room. You do not need it.

Me: Seriously. Every semester. At least one class you've basically not attended and it has an exam. And now you're suffering for it.

Me: Ok. Lets study. Go get your book, your textbook aand your laptop. Cause let's face it, it's the first time you've learnt this shit.

Me: Get motivated. You do not have time to do this shit. You can't afford to be able to not concentrate.

Me: Ok, you can't concentrate on reading the textbook, you read that paragraph roughly six times and you have no clue what it said. Watch the lecture, yeah. The lecture will be easier to concentrate on.

Me: You are not a quitter. You're not. So lets stay up another hour or two and get one more week summarised for your exam notes.

Me: Do you really want to do this class again? Like really? Cause its not like you pay and then you can do it however many times it takes. You Pay Each Time You Take It. So Study. Learn the material. Learn the shit. Pass the exam. You are not forking out another grand on this class.

Me: Next semester will be different. You'll go to all of your classes, you'll do all your readings. And you'll do weekly summaries so you'll already have your exam notes done.

the most disorienting thing thats ever happened to me was when a linguistics major stopped in the middle of our conversation, looked me in the eye, and said, "you have a very interesting vernacular. were you on tumblr in 2014?" and i had to just stand there and process that one for a good ten seconds

jude duarte

I respect poetry so much because it does what I cannot do - say so much with so little.

When I have something Much to say, it takes me just as many words to say it. I say it with words that are each of them bland and common, unimaginative by their lonesome, with the hopes that if I stack so many together and squeeze a single drop of Much from each that it might flow into something meaningful.

When I have something to say, I say it twice. I say it three times. Because the first or second may not have captured the point. Because I do not trust myself to express the full essence saying it just once. Like just now, those last two sentences. I’ll repeat myself a third time for good measure - because I do not say it right just once or twice.

Poems say things in only a half, only a quarter. They choose single words worth more than ten of mine. I want to know how their minds shop for words. I want to distill myself like poets do. I want to trade in all my too many common words for the way they use an extraordinary few.

If I keep writing this, I’ll write it forever. I’ll explain myself again, as I have already, as I’m doing now. With more and different other words, with the hope of saying myself fully, like how all the hatched and messy wanton scribbles from a pen might finally color in a page. I want to change that. I want to not rip the page I’ve oversaturated by the tip of my pen.

I’ll start tomorrow, maybe, to explain myself less.

ah yes, the girl with the knife and the morally gray boy who hates everyone but the girl with the knife, trope

the way victorie and robin and ramy all loose their birth languages has me in shambles. victorie never really spoke hatian creole, she moved to france at a very young age, and when she tried to bring it into babel, she was dismissed. ramy, who’s from kolkata, who’s bengali, only speaks bengali once in the book and his speech has become rudimentary because the british saw urdu and sanskrit and arabic as more valuable. robin has forgotten cantonese by the time he goes back home for the same reason. it’s utterly tragic it comes with a deep pain that’s hard to describe the pain of loosing your mother tongue.

being aromantic is like. hey btw you're going to live a life that is the culmination of most of society's worst nightmares. sorry lol ✌️ but then you turn around and take a really good hard look at it and it turns out that living in that nightmare is fucking awesome and you get to wake up every day and take that fear that other people have and laugh and hold it close until it's a great joy for you instead. and being happy is a radical act that you define instead of someone else. and you're sexy as fuck that's just a fact of life i don't make the rules on that one