Saturday, February 24, 2018

mindfulwrath: hey, one millenial to another? don’t just leave the gen z kids to clean up this mess....

mindfulwrath:

hey, one millenial to another?

don’t just leave the gen z kids to clean up this mess. i know we’re all tired, i know we’re all exhausted, but we cannot sit back on our nihilistic laurels and leave them to do this alone.

it’s time to stand back up. it’s time to get back in there. it’s time to fight that fight, and fight it harder.

it’s time to be the adults we wish had stood with us.

I’m that weird lost generation between the millennial and generation X, and I keep finding myself full of the tired nihilism of the millennials and the righteous wrath and passionate intensity of the Z kids and I just have to say… let’s give them all hell.


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Friday, February 23, 2018

femsolid: “Some periods of our growth are so confusing that we don’t even recognize that growth is...

femsolid:

“Some periods of our growth are so confusing that we don’t even recognize that growth is happening. We may feel hostile or angry or weepy and hysterical, or we may feel depressed. It would never occur to us, unless we stumbled on a book or a person who explained to us, that we were in fact in the process of change, of actually becoming larger, spiritually, than we were before. Whenever we grow, we tend to feel it, as a young seed must feel the weight and inertia of the earth as it seeks to break out of its shell on its way to becoming a plant. Often the feeling is anything but pleasant. But what is most unpleasant is the not knowing what is happening. Those long periods when something inside ourselves seems to be waiting, holding its breath, unsure about what the next step should be, eventually become the periods we wait for, for it is in those periods that we realize that we are being prepared for the next phase of our life and that, in all probability, a new level of the personality is about to be revealed.”

— Alice Walker, Living by the Word (via themindmovement)

…oh.


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Saturday, February 17, 2018

Photo




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Friday, February 16, 2018

You should see this. Yes you. It’s important. Like, it’s...









You should see this. Yes you. It’s important. Like, it’s important (and good-!) in the way Wonder Woman is important (and good).


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Thursday, February 15, 2018

4gifs:Little girl is confused by the old-school Game Boy...



4gifs:

Little girl is confused by the old-school Game Boy controls. [video]

“You have to use your hands?? It’s like a baby’s game!”


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Tuesday, February 13, 2018

animentality: exeunt-pursued-by-a-bear: animation-is-my-life: k...



animentality:

exeunt-pursued-by-a-bear:

animation-is-my-life:

kripke-is-my-king:

saucefactory:

glitteryheaux:

medranochav:

earthshaker1217:

THANK YOU.

I’ve seen students show up to class in their pajamas.

Also I’ve had professors curse during lectures and discussion groups.

“Professionalism” is relative especially in a space like college.

Cuz my professors are paying me right?

professors do not give a fuck what you wear. and if they did, what bills they paying?

Well, technically, you’re paying them, so you’re their boss.

Sometimes certain classes will require “business attire” for presentations. But other than that, y'all I wore pajamas and sweats and booty shorts and tanks with my bra showing and basically whatever else I fancied on any given day day, depending on the weather and how much sleep I was running on. And I guarantee you I was not the only one. We all did it.

Some people wear heels and cute ass outfits every day, bc shit like that was literally not allowed in high school and they’re thrilled to be able to express themselves for once. And I’d sit right next to them in my pajama pants and an old tank top after I rolled out of bed having slept less than two hours. No one batted an eye about it.

Seriously. Whatever makes you happy and comfortable.

Also on an unrelated note, you literally never have to ask to use the restroom. Just get up and go. No one cares.

Listen guys, college is a strange place where just about anything goes. Like as long as you’re not hurting anyone and vaguely following whatever arbitrary rules your department comes up with (and you know, not breaking laws) then you’re probably fine.

I’ve seen people wear snuggles walking across campus, super dressed up in a full suit and tie, a dress in the snow, a sweatshirt and jeans in 85°, pjs in the middle of the afternoon, eclectic combinations only art kids can come up with, and kids wrapped in blankets. Literally the only thing you would get judged on MAYBE is wearing a shirt from your school’s bitterest rival, and even then it’s a maybe depending on the school.

There’s a girl i see around sometimes who skateboards to class in a pikachu onesie and a hijab and she’s honestly an icon

I know a guy who walks around in a tiger suit. the only time he changed out of it was on halloween, where he wore a blow-up t rex suit. 

Along those lines… you’re paying your professor. That jackass gets up in front of the class to bitch at you for two full class periods about how American students don’t deserve the college education they have access to, you walk your ass out and complain to the dean, because he’s not doing his job and he’s wasting your time - I’m looking at you huGH MALAFRY.


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Saturday, February 10, 2018

The Day I Died. The next story in my year long project of writing a story a week. *******I died...

The Day I Died.

The next story in my year long project of writing a story a week.


*******


I died today.

It didn’t happen like I’d expected or feared. There was no drowning, trying to breathe air that was no longer there and choking on heavy fluid that was never meant for lungs. There was no burning, nerve endings crying out in searing pain before bestowing cold numbness.

No car crash, gunshot, stab wound in a dark alley..

Just one moment, alive, breathing, watching a squirrel yelling at another in a tree across the way, and the next moment, nothing.

Well. Not nothing exactly, just different. It was a little jarring, if I’m honest.

Colors are different. I don’t even have words to describe how; something at once muted and more vibrant than they were before.

Other than that, nothing seems to have changed.

I looked around first, at once knowing I was dead, and yet, sure I was hallucinating. The park was the same, though the people were gone, replaced by vaguely people-shaped smudges wandering where a moment before they’d been playing frisbee and walking dogs. The only creature I could see that wasn’t a smudge was a cat. It looked at me intently.

I stood slowly, trying to make sense of what I was seeing and turned in place, scanning the park for anyone, anything else I recognized.

I might have died again when I saw the bench.

My body was sitting there, slumped over from the aneurism that killed me. It faded to a grey smudge as I watched.

When it was completely gone, I felt an inaudible pop. I looked up and around for the other smudges. One was hovering around the cat and leaned down to pet it. It snuggled into the caress and then walked towards me.

“Are you dead too?” I asked.

The cat came closer and rubbed on my leg but gave no answer.

It walked away a few steps and looked over its shoulder at me, tail twitching. I shrugged and followed it.

We walked through the city together, the cat leading the way. The smudges were thicker where we were going, though they’d begun to fade into more of a grey than black. The city was familiar; I’d been here half my life, and I recognized the building to which the cat seemed to be leading me.

It was a hospital.

The smudges had all but disappeared by then and the cat led me through hallways and up staircases with a new sense of urgency. New smudges were appearing and darkening into shades of charcoal, and the cat led me to a particularly tight knot of them.

I stopped staring at the cat then, because my attention was caught by something in the center of the figures. I couldn’t make it out but all the other smudges with their increasingly hard outlines were focused entirely on that thing, that ball of potential in the center of the room.

There was a feel of worry from the smudges, becoming more and more tangible as moments passed. I felt like I should go towards the knot of attention but I was suddenly terrified. I wanted nothing to do with it.

The cat rubbed on my leg again, seeming to want to push me closer. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the thing, but I could tell that much.

The cat must have sensed that I was moments from bolting from the room because I’m the instant before I could, the little bastard bit me on the butt.

I jumped and yelped, but I had jumped right into the little ball of energy that the smudges were so focused on.

My ears filled with pressure and my yelp turned into a loud, screaming cry.

I opened my eyes.

The smudges had changed.

I made out the shape of a doctor and several nurses but there was something wrong with them: they were huge!

I gasped in a choking breath and screamed again and was rewarded with their expressions becoming relieved instead of fearful as they’d been moments before.

The doctor that was holding me carried me over to a woman who looked exhausted and let her hold me and in that moment I understood.

I was a baby. A baby who nearly hadn’t taken its first breath because I was scared enough of the unknown to be ready to run away.

My life before started to fade but I was starting to feel exhausted contentment when I saw the cat’s tail twitch around the delivery room door. A whole new life full of potential spread in front of me, and with that thought and the last of my fading memories flowing away, I slept.


********

@whiskeyandwashitape @artofstevetownsley


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Saturday, February 3, 2018

The Tales of Teek! I’m inking my husband’s awesome comic. If you...



The Tales of Teek! I’m inking my husband’s awesome comic.
If you repost, please tag @danietown_art and @artofstevetownsley
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#indiecomics #comics #makecomics #indiecomicslove #drawing #indiecomicsunite #platypus #indiecomic #illustration #comicbooks #adventure #comic #indiecomicsrule #indiecomicsarethebest #digitalart #indiecomicsartist #drawingcomics #adventures #platypuslove #platypuses #inking #inkinglove #ink #artofstevetownsley #danietown_art


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