Normalise Hand Written Letters Again

Gorgeous coloration on these fossilized gar fish scales.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSSHSHSHAHS I just had a need dream about murder and in awake again

I had a nightmare a few weeks ago about some murders, and usually that freaks me out for a while and I can't sleep. So naturally I turned him into a character and made him kiss other boys. It's to the point I was making pintrest boards for him and his boyfriend, but it's late, and now murder is scary again and I can't sleep.

Me at the beginning of the school year: I fucking hate the guys they're so transphobic, I don't feel safe at school. Atleast the girls are nice..

Me now: screw the guys, the girls are assholes. You're not the fucking victim here you prick. Don't try to tell me to "Stop being so negative" I will break your fucking ankles. YOU SAID GAY BEST FRIEND LIKE IT WAS A GOOD THING??? unironically too, wtf. And I suppose Im sorry for being a little stingy when you asked if my pronouns were they/them, you almost gave me fucking anxiety attack over that. (Props to ya use they/them, that's super cool and prolly really sexy) I've been out for the past two to three years and you've only properly met me and been introduced to me after I came out, my pronouns have been he/him for a long while. And don't think about "how could I be homophobic if my uncle is trans"

I'm genuinely astonished you weren't paying attention enough to get transphobic and homophobic right. Also that's got the same energy as "how can I be racist? I have a black friend." Like what made you think that's an intelligent answer?

She's lucky for ta couple things. One, that I have restraint and have worked on my anger management since last year. And two, that I got too stressed to even bring it up to a teacher. The thought of having to explain how someone is being mean to me makes me feel like I'm going to cry, and I don't like that.

I realize that nothing i do on tumblr is really “academic”, thats because im just someone who doesn’t like the current state of the world, likes finding out things; science, mythology, moral, and everything human. And enjoys the general ideal of a academic and chaotic lifestyle

Sometimes I remember that there was a little boy who thinks I'm really cool.

Sometimes I like making shit memes

I'll have to make a record of this before I forget so,

Kintsugi - on March seventh, I came to an idea. Eventually, this idea was called Kintsugi, named after the Japanese art of putting broken pottery back together with gold. Which is the only way to describe the main idea of the story.

It follows a young man who uses a wheelchair (I've not developed this story well enough to know why), he's in college and has an adoration for pottery, of which he owns many pieces. But he feels like he's fallen into a nightmare of monotonous life, and endless cycle of class, sleep and commuting. One push, and then another, waiting for life to change. While sitting in class one day, a tardy student comes to sit next to (oh god wait I don't have names.. (we'll call them 1 and 2 stfu)) 1, who is strangely attracted to this carefree mess of a man. After sharing some missed notes with 2, 1 is introduced to a new way of see life. Become close friends, 2 teaches 1 to enjoy a crisp view of the world, one filling with unbridled love and optimism. This evolution is tackled delicately enough over the course of serveral chapters. Eventually, while hanging out one evening 1 discovers 2 was never everything 1 thought he was. There's no short way to write this scene without doing a great injustice. Basically 2 was only ever as you chose to see him, a prefect piece of porcelain, or Kintsugi.

Inspiration comes from basically anywhere, but sometimes I want something to occupy my mind as I live. So I make stories from small fragments of inspiration. Usually agitation, if I'm being honest. Sometimes they come from small bits of hope. Those are always my favorite.

Today I believe it was hope. Maybe optimistically, I want to believe it was hope.

I will always remember that at one point, somewhere on the internet, there was a picture of my favorite substitute teacher gently holding a burger in the palm of his hand.

My inspirations for making all my stories:

I'm doing an action and that action could be a story!

I'm listening to a song and that song could be a story!

I'm feeling an emotion and that emotion could be a story!

I'm copeing using escapism!

I like this story and can't get it out of my head!

I have an issues with this story and want to fix it!

I can't sleep!

Jonathan Gleason was my friend who committed suicide just over a month ago… and I just found out that he wrote this 800+ page analysis textbook. By himself. Because he was teaching analysis and he was dissatisfied with the textbook he was assigned so he just…. wrote his own.

Even if you haven’t done any math… please just take a look at this. Scroll through it as fast as you like. It’s incredible that he put so much work and so much free time into this… I’m still in awe and I really want everyone to see it. In particular, if you want a good laugh, look at chapter 5 of the analysis textbook. The opening paragraph is SO Johnny.

He also wrote a linear algebra textbook, here.