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six graders to their english language arts teacher

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Bush's Faked Beans

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a weird thing is that we got waves of people going "who cares if its cringe or youre annoying! have fun!" but no one really learned how to accept the fact that some people will find you annoying or think your art or your work or posts or anyrhing sucks and thats ok. rather it just became a weird "if people think youre annoying theyre just morally bad. let people enjoy things!". like no i think this yes man only biome sucks and people are allowed to not like artstyles and shows and media and other things

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every line of this tweet hits like a punch in the face

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I know people on tumblr looove stories of underwater cave diving, but I haven't seen anyone talk about nitrogen narcosis aka "raptures of the deep"

basically when you want to get your advanced scuba certification (allowing you to go more than 60 feet deep) you have to undergo a very specific test: your instructor takes you down past the 60+ foot threshold, and she brings a little underwater white board with her.

she writes a very basic math problem on that board. 6 + 15. she shows it to you, and you have to solve it.

if you can solve it, you're good. that is the hardest part of the test.

because here's what happens: there is a subset of people, and we have no real idea why this happens only to them, who lose their minds at depth. they're not dying, they're not running out of oxygen, they just completely lose their sense of identity when deep in the sea.

a woman on a dive my instructor led once vanished during the course of the excursion. they were diving near this dropoff point, beyond which the depth exceeded 60 feet and he'd told them not to go down that way. the instructor made his way over to look for her and found a guy sitting at the edge of the dropoff (an underwater cliff situation) just staring down into the dark. the guy is okay, but he's at the threshold, spacing out, and mentally difficult to reach. they try to communicate, and finally the guy just points down into the dark, knowing he can't go down there, but he saw the woman go.

instructor is deep water certified and he goes down. he shines his light into the dark, down onto the seafloor which is at 90 feet below the surface. he sees the woman, her arms locked to her sides, moving like a fish, swimming furiously in circles in the pitch black.

she is hard to catch but he stops her and checks her remaining oxygen: she is almost out, on account of swimming a marathon for absolutely no reason. he is able to drag her back up, get her to a stable depth to decompress, and bring her to the surface safely.

when their masks are off and he finally asks her what happened, and why was she swimming like that, she says she fully, 100% believed she was a mermaid, had always been a mermaid, and something was hunting her in the dark 👍

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babes wake up there's gay al pacino discourse on tumblr dot com

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I feel like my shitty life has been fucked in ways nobody else knows wich means nobody can help since im uniquely suffering all i want is somebody who knows how to make me better cuz im trying so much to get over this shit but its hard to when the pain is so strong theres nobody to help me

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(source)

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Thierry Mugler - Fall 1997 Couture

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My one friend group can't stop saying, "See you in hell!" in a cheerful voice instead of, "Talk to you later!" and my other friend group can't stop calling things "penis" instead of "cool" or "good", so I just unironically uttered the phrase, "Sounds penis, see you in hell," as I got off the phone.

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Fat bodies are mentioned most often in terms of the negative space left behind by the pounds lost, the dress sizes dropped, the inches shrunk—fat bodies are only valued for their absence.

There's a phrase you may have heard, that 'inside every fat person, there's a thin person waiting to get out'. It makes fat bodies sound like a prison, like the grotesque carapace of Kafka's beetle, with the real self like a trapped and frightened Gregor Samsa inside. Society is deeply permeated with the idea that my fat body isn't my 'real' body, and that I need to dig and excavate and starve out my true self, rescuing my inner thin princess from the imprisoning tower of my body.

This idea taught me not to feel fully connected to my body—after all, so much of my body is dead weight, it's not really me, my fatness isn't who I am, so why bother fully inhabiting it?

For years I didn't embrace my body. I was like someone squatting in a few rooms of a mansion, pretending that I was living in a condo and ignoring the three wings, twenty-four bedrooms, ballroom, bowling alley, and the entire library from Disney's Beauty and the Beast that make up my body.

—‘Where Are the Fat Girls? The Absence of Plus-Size Characters in Fantasy Literature’ by Charis M. Ellison [video]

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#rtvs

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ah ... I see you've caught me balancing on my baul!

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my local transit app has an unintelligible system where you pick an emoji instead of uploading a profile pic. and then it generates you a random flavor text name based on the emoji ??? anyway my name is scent of boog now

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this too shall pass

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i am the administrator

2. sure save in the fucking stinky folder whatever