Everything-In-Mediocrity

(Source: eqocentric, via raw-milk)

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mornings in mile end

faganchelsea:

notnatkingcole:

omg

the gifset alone makes me cry jfc

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Shout out to all the people who have looked at porn and touched themselves on the school cu0mputer I am using - twitter.com/tit_fer_tat

I was just told I would do well in Italy

I used to go to this daycare in the mornings while I was in Kindergarten because Kindergarten was only a half day back then.It was always really weird because there was the AM class and the PM class and sometimes I would get to school a little early and I’d see some weird AM kid waiting for his mom or something and it would freak me the fuck out because there was this whole other dimension that had a kid that sat in my desk and wore the same uniform and drank the same juice box. It was kind of a bizarro world type thing in my head at the time.

My mom would drop me off at daycare in the mornings and then she paid this 12 year old girl, Lydia, to walk me the 5 blocks from daycare to school.

Really the only thing I remember about Lydia was that she had shiny blonde hair like Baby Spice, so naturally I was left completely unable to say anything to her when she’d try to talk to me on our walks to school.

Silence was a big thing for me as a child. My immigrant parents were of the opinion, as immigrant parents often are, that children should be neither seen nor heard but also be satisfied that at least you were smarter than the wealthier kids at school, and that satisfaction comes from accomplishment, and accomplishment can be measured in letters and numbers and the reason you didn’t get that award is because she’s a racist and if I fucking see “is frequently distracted by her peers” one more time on your report card we’re sending you to live with your grandmother, and this is because of boys isn’t it because it’s always about boys and that’s why they’re sending you to that all girls private catholic school where you will learn more about cocaine, blow jobs, and the beatitudes than you will ever care to know. where you and your peers will be routinely referred to as ladies and you will be compelled to behave like one. Where you will be crippled with insecurity because all the guys you know just aren’t “into” black girls and so you will stand silent in your friends basement at 15. Smirnoff ice in your clammy skeletal hand. Hoping to say something smart enough. Beautiful enough. Worthy enough for someone to love you. But instead you will stay silent. And the subsequent chip you will have on your shoulder will be so gaping and wide that only a bad case of resting bitch face syndrome and a blatant superiority complex will be able to cover it up .

But anyway , Lydia’s still blonde, except now she’s one of those girls who’s perpetually tanned and inexplicably always has a new Facebook profile picture of her in a bikini on a boat in spite of the fact that she lives in a temperate rainforest.

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Buddhists and Navy Seals

I was told once by someone I love that every morning Buddhists and Navy Seals look in the mirror and tell themselves that they are beautiful and capable. All I could really draw from the factually dubious information was an image of various Buddhists and Navy Seals of all shapes and sizes waking up, getting off of their respective floor mats and cots to stand naked in front of a mirror and murmur sentiments about their attractiveness. At the time, this struck me as undeniably silly, but now it makes sense as silliness sometimes does.

They stand and look into the mirror the way we all have once - looking through a magnifying glass. Trying to slowly comb through the bad and cut it out - like when a kid gets checked for lice or something. Looking for something to destroy and then build up again. That’s the most important part though - the building up again. That’s where the Buddhists and the Navy Seals have it right. Because it’s hard not to lose your mind in that magnifying glass. We use it to burn through our lives and bodies, seeking and holding up to the light our failures. So we know exactly how unworthy we are. As we keep magnifying, we hope to find the motivation to fix all the wrongness that we’ve found but all we’ve done is burn ourselves. We become ants floundering as the sun projects its heat through glass and overwhelms our bodies, setting us on fire. We look in the mirror and we scourge ourselves beyond recognition because we hope in the wake of the destruction somehow we can build something better, something worth loving. Only something stops them, the Buddhists and the Navy Seals, from this and they look hard into their own eyes and say that they are beautiful and capable because, even though it is ridiculous, it saves them.

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Employed or not, I still end up holding myself in the fetal position at the end of the day.

I was a prostitute for charity. I literally stood on a street corner. The only difference was I had a binder with a business license inside.

It probably happens the same way too. I was in a Starbucks when I got a call from them, asking if I knew exactly what they did. Asking if I would be comfortable coming in for an interview.

I walked in for the interview and it was beard nation. If it didn’t have a vagina, it had a beard. And if it did have a vagina, I suspected the vagina was probably harboring a beard as well. Along with the beards came a level of casual that god usually only reserved for only the coolest of lesbians.

In the interview they asked me what the shittiest job I had ever had was. Everyone laughed at each others stories. It was ironic.

I held out for 5 days.

It wasn’t the standing that bothered me. Or the rejection. Or the awkwardness of seeing people I still have on facebook from high school but haven’t purged because I couldn’t bear the guilt of depriving them of my minimalist online presence. It wasn’t the fact that I am both too compassionate and overly self absorbed to flag down strangers off the street like a cop at a didactic traffic stop.What finally made the job unbearable was when I realized that I had inexplicably begun to care

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(Source: laesquinalatina, via mathsdebater)

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d1ablo:

BECCA

(Source: fuks, via eteriese)

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stalked:

parkour

(via eteriese)

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