welp my first audition in 2yrs is tomorrow and I’m bricking it 🙃
welp my first audition in 2yrs is tomorrow and I’m bricking it 🙃
uni doesn’t even start again until next month and i already want to cry lmao
Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there. Like Sam said. Because it's okay to feel things. And be who you are about them.
- Stephen Chbosky
I've noticed rain just
Doesn't hit the same in the city
In a small town you can hear the trees blow outside, the wind, the pitter patter as rain droplets hit your window. It was pleasant, it was nice.
You could take photos in the middle of main street after the night shift, you could go to your back patio and listen, smell, experience the rain. Hell, if you wanted to get soaked you could've gone to your driveway and just stood in the rain. Rain was bringing pets inside soaked and having to fetch a towel from the dirty laundry to dry them off because they got caught in the rain.
In the city you just hear the interstate. The humming of the building. You're loud neighbors thumping around above you. The rain doesn't hit the glass of your window-- instead it taps on the outside of the AC unit that can't decide if your room should be the tundra or Sahara desert. There's no trees to be tossed around. None big enough, or close enough, to make noise. Instead the wind whistles through the broken air conditioner that's nearly falling apart. It howls as it passes the units on the roof just outside your window.
The thunder even sounds different. What used to be a terrifying, thunderous roar that sprung tears to your eyes and forced you to cover your ears, now sounds no different than a semi pushing a little too harshly on the breaks on the interstate. The lightning is barely visible due to the artificial lights of street lamps and office buildings. It used to be blinding, now it's just another flashing light outside your shades.
The lights that drown the once mighty lightning make the rain dance. The skyline is beautiful with a rainy haze and misty fog. The air is more crisp, a perk of the surrounding geography.
But it never compares to the old feeling of seeing rain after months if dry. It's no longer terrifying to experience, expecting this storm to be the one to tear your town apart.
Now, it's a quick glance outside and a sigh as you hope the drivers decide to go 40, instead of 60 on the damn interstate. Now it's just more noise.
"love is patient love is kind" love is actually when your friend takes pictures of moss to send to you
Wrath, still seething from work: I'm going to fucking isekai you.
Sloth: I see you've been hanging out with the weeb.
by Noah Haidle
SOUL: And this is how this ends. I say goodbye and you say goodbye.
And I fly. At first I'm scared of what's to come.
I fly over the whole earth.
And even though I don't have eyes I see everyone.
If they're awake I see their lives, and if they're asleep I see their dreams.
And what I see makes me laugh. (The SOUL laughs.)
I laugh not because it's exactly ha ha funny.
Maybe I laugh because I'm scared.
But maybe because there's nothing else to do. (The SOUL laughs.)
And I leave the earth and fly past Jupiter and whoever judges souls judges that I get to go to heaven. So I fly to heaven, where there are no memories or pain or sickness or sadness or hunger or disease or hatred or fear.
And all I do is laugh.
I’ve been talking a lot about Utena recently with @stripedroseandsketchpads and in particular about favorite terrible child Kiryuu Touga, and I just have a lot of thoughts about how the Touga episodes are some of the deepest rabbit holes of Fucked Up Shit in the series and how I think it’s kind of a shame that a lot of Utena analysis doesn’t really pay attention to that, although I completely understand why
episode 11 reaction pics because I AM ON AN EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER AND WILL
O F F !!!!!!!!1!1!!11!1!
ok that's it thank u for coming to my ted talk
I K S O N G
by Will Eno
Either Gender, Dramatic
TOUR GUIDE: The air. I wrote on it in school. Take a deep breath. A hundred years ago, someone was digging a hole here, for this very monument, and he rested on his shovel and sighed. You just inhaled a molecule of the air that shoveler exhaled, in that quiet sigh long ago. Scientific truth. And he, a hundred years ago had just inhaled a molecule of air from Caesar's dying breath. Which dying breath probably contained a molecule from Caesar's first scream when he was born. Scientific fact. Molecules. Not the prettiest word. Everyone probably knows that Caesar thing. But still. Think of how personal everything is, ultimately. And then, think of a beautiful sunset on Earth, before human beings had ever evolved. It just beautifully sets. No one there to say "Oooh" or "Ahhh" or something breathy like that. It just sets, and then it's night, nothing personal. Beneath us, okay, the dirt the sighing man was digging into? It's layers of fossils and broken pottery and things they think had religious value. Maybe some sad little instrument, way down, a hollow bone with three holes in it. Down we go. City, then dirt; town, then ash; village, then ice crystals and iron. Maybe a tooth or a piece of cloth. It's people strewn all the way through. And, people, on top, too--walking around and smiling and eating ice cream or doing whatever people do. (Beat.) It's fun, thinking of everything like this. Usually, I'm telling people about the time sunglasses were almost invented here. (Beat.) Some of the dust on my shoes is from outer space; most of the rest is dead human skin. Infinity, asteroids, and your great-great-grandmother. All that struggle and science and stale candy in every little speck. You look at it and you think, "Dirt." That's not even half the story.
"why...are you...saving me...?" "you can barely stand and this is what you ask? a question i have no answer for?"
my blockmate's pfp is atsumu and i'm fighting the urge to gush abt hq sgdjdks
putting in a maintenance request is the most anxiety inducing thing ever n i hate it
by Ed Monk
HORTENSE: Hello, Fairy Godmother Headquarters, this is Hortense speaking, how may I help you?... I see, you were turned into a frog... Now was this done by a witch, a wizard, or a sorcerer?... I see, a witch. OK then, your name is?... Eric. Good, now, Eric, are you a king, a prince, a knight, or a peasant boy who is secretly the king but doesn't know it?... A peasant boy who doesn't know he's the king... OK then, what can we do for you today?... Send someone to turn you back into a person... Well, isn't there some beautiful princess nearby who can kiss you? See, we're really kinda busy today... OK, Eric, I'm going to put you on hold for just one second...
today i entered to an online congress about multiculturalism and the conferences were so interesting!! im planning on posting my (cleaned) notes and comments
by John Van Druten
CHRISTOPHER: Well, I'd better start moving out of here. I bet Fraulein Schneider's pleased. Sally is just the kind of person she likes. How do I know that? How do I know what kind of person Sally is? I suppose that's what's so fascinating about her. People who talk like that about themselves ought to be lying. But I don't believe she is. And yet she's that mysterious thing my family calls a lady, too. Look at her. She's even flirting with the taxi-driver. And she knows I'm watching her. Oh, my God! I've got to put that down right away. Let's make notes. How would you describe her? Sally Bowles was a girl of about... I wonder how old she is. Her face is young, but her hands look terribly old. And they were dirty, too. Dirty as a little girl's hands. Sally's hands were like the old hands of a dirty little girl.