Under My Rock

Is not what I tell myself. If we’re talking “comforting” platitudes, my go-to phrase, at first subconsciously and now intentionally, is “This too shall pass.”

Because sometimes things don’t happen for a reason. Some things are unreasoned, unreasonable.

And sometimes there are reasons, but they fucking suck. When I had to watch my eight year old little brother watch his daddy-bones get lowered into dirt in a box, I knew it all happened for a reason. He smoked, he worked in factories with low air quality, it gave him cancer, the cancer killed him. Perfectly reasonable. Logic till the bitter end, but not soothing in the least. “Reason” does not always equate to purpose. There was no purpose in his death. “Things happen for a reason” but can still have no purpose.

On the other hand, this too shall pass. It will end; something better will happen, something worse. It all ends though.

During the Bubonic Plague, doctors wore these bird-like masks to avoid becoming sick. They would fill the beaks with spices and rose petals, so they wouldn’t have to smell the rotting bodies. 

A theory during the Bubonic Plague was that the plague was caused by evil spirits. To scare the spirits away, the masks were intentionally designed to be creepy. 

(via baconisbetterthanbacon)

keyboardkings:

Fallout Boardgame, must have!

(via )

werockthisshit:

apple-who:

HA!

(via baconisbetterthanbacon)

So I’m clearly a miserable failure at online blogging but I refuse to apologize mostly because why should I apologize to myself? NO ONE KNOWS THIS EXISTS.

But life has inspired me back here to rant once again about something shitty that no one IRL wants to hear me rant about.

COMMENCE:

The return of vaguely springlike weather, or actually being able to exist outside without threats of icy imminent death. Sounds like a grand development for the northern hemisphere right? Unless you’re a LADY. or, as some like to call me, “GIRL” (which is surprisingly not my name). As in, “Hey pretty lady! You lookin good to DAY.” or the more popular, “Oh GIRL, so fine!”

Being in possession of a vagina and breasts, no matter how hard one tries to camouflage them, apparently gives every corporate douchebag/homeless man/high school senior permission to heckle you while you try to return your goddamn library book on your lunch break during work because you don’t want to incur late fees. Walking down the street in sweatpants to the pharmacy to pick up some tylenol for that sinus headache? “DAAAAAAMN LOOKIT DAT ASS.” And I live in Boston. My mind shrinks away from the very imagining of New York on nice days.

My personal favorite: “Aw why don’t you smile? C’mon, gimme a smile. Pretty girls gotta smile!” SMILE DO IT NOW DANCE PUPPET. Why don’t I smile insanely while walking down the street thinking ‘I need to get my taxes done soon’ or ‘I hope mom’s cold is gone’? Hmm, I don’t know! I guess it’s just one of the eternal mysteries of the universe, right up there with WHY DO YOU FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO MAKE DEMANDS OF A TOTAL STRANGER?

I am mere days away from commemorating my official entry into the exhilarating world of drinking-age singles, AKA my one year anniversary of getting myself out of an emotionally abusive relationship.

I just remember singing that Anna Nalick song to myself over and over.  I’m horrified at knowing who Anna Nalick is, owning at least one of her songs, and admitting this openly on the internet (yes, even under a penname, even on a tumblr that NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT).

And yet I will post said song here as a reminder that no matter what has or will happen in my love life, I’ve already hit bottom.  I mean, what could possibly be worse than turning to ANNA NALICK for comfort?  DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO THE HELL SHE IS?

• Cold breath in my home city is sentient.
• Harvard parties = CRAZY WILD NUDITY ORGIES TUNS OF HAWT GURLZ BOUNCER WITH EAR PIECE SECRET IN A PRIVATE LIBRARY WTF.
• Boston University students are apparently the butt of academic jokes. Which I find offensive, mostly because the example BU girl seemed intelligent and not much like any of my classmates from the good ol’ bloodsucking alma.
• Justin Timberlake: A better actor than Tom Cruise, Ben Affleck, and a slew of others. Except Ice T on Law and Order or whatever fucking crime show he does now.
• IT’S FINAL CLUBS NOT “FINALS” CLUB GOD GET IT RIGHT YOU PLEB.
• Harvard dorm rooms = exponentially bigger than BU ones.
• If your last name sounds douchey/sinister (ie- Winklevoss), your fate as a sinister douche is sealed.
• No one in/around any Boston area colleges has a Boston accent.
• Jewish guys + Asian girls = tru luv. Or obsessive stalking.
• Mark Zuckerberg = not an asshole. HE’S JUST TRYING SO HARD TO BE ONE AND NEEDS SOME LAWYER LOVIN’.

Things that “The Social Network” Got Wrong:

• CGI snow and cold breath suxxxx.
• The “Fuck Truck” is not full of BU girls. We all went to MIT Frat parties instead (more men, more liquor, better audio set-ups), and were therefore a mere 40 minute sloshed walk in heels away. The Fuck Truck brings Wellesley girls, who would no way get naked and dance on a table. Which brings me to
• Harvard parties = not that cool. No college party is that cool, I don’t care what you remember you were roofied anyway.
• BU students aren’t actually the victims of cruel elitist humor, solely because there are too many of us permeating the city and WE WILL FIND YOU EN MASSE. And I don’t know, throw glitter and latkes and buy your parents homes out from under them.
• No one, and I repeat NO ONE outside of Harvard cares about Final Clubs.
• Those Harvard dorms were obviously not real and way to photoshop/CGI Harvard Yard and the Charles beyond the point of recognition.
• Those Asian chicks- totally BU students. Trust me.

For some stupid fucking reason I am back on tumblr. Probably because the internet has corrupted my mind to the point where I am only capable of stringing words into a structure vaguely similar to sentences in a box within a box within a box within a window on a screen on my box-shaped monitor.

That and boredom at work. Oh, yeah.

But this time there will be no constant reblogging of every picture I think is “interesting” off the blogs of random dipshits. Hopefully this second attempt at tumblr will be less visible, less about how I perceive I’m perceived and more about saying whatever the fuck I feel like.

And following a couple blogs that are actually entertaining and worthwhile.

This will, I hope, not devolve into a diary (I have one of those that I write in BY HAND, I know).

• Question: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT? - tumblrbot
• Answer:

  batteries.