1.) I like Anna. She makes me feel special. She makes me feel typical, atypical, strong, smart, and funny. Her eyes are what caught me the first time we met, so the attraction was instantaneous. What kept me around initially was the fact that she liked the same books and movies as I did, which is really unusual for a girl, and that intrigued me. I learn something new every time I speak to her. Oh, and she’s hot. dat ass.

3.) I’ll tell you things I hate about both and speak to sweeping generalizations :D. I’ll take “sex” to mean gender though because there are way more than five things I like about the female sex!

Females:

1. women who pretend they are chaste.
2. women aren’t funny.
3. diffident women. A lack of self-confidence makes me wonder why I’m wasting my time.
4. The obsession with shopping.
5. Misandry under the thin veil of feminism. I will tear a feminist a new intellectual asshole anthropologist style.

Males:

1. Discomfort when emotions are involved.
2. beta males
3. when a man doesn’t own his masculinity and wastes it or, god forbid, apologizes for it.
4. dishonorable men. Honor is a male abstraction and unspoken agreement which all of civilization depends upon. 
5. the lack of character and integrity in the modern popular male stereotype. 

7.) I like how I look. I have a lot to improve on what I can improve, but for what I can’t I find a way to like it and move on.

1. the person i like and why i like them.
2. a famous person i’ve been compared to.
3. 5 things that irritate me about the same sex/opposite sex.
4. the best thing that has happened to me this week.
5. weird things i do when i’m alone.
6. how i’d spend ten thousand bucks.
7. things i like and things i don’t like about the way i look.
8. my last night out in detail.
9. something that makes me sad when i think about it.
10. something i’ve lied about.
11. would i rather be stranded on a desert island with someone i love for ten years or someone i hate for a month? explain why.
12. something i’m currently worrying about.
13. one person from tumblr i’d throw off a cliff, one i’d marry and one i’d fuck.
14. something i do without realising.
15. lyrics that apply to my current situation/mood.
16. a drunken story.
17. something i regret.
18. post a picture of myself.
19. my longest relationship and who it was with.
20. press ctrl v and post.
21. post a bit of my last IM convo.
22. 5 things i want to change.
23. my view on being tumblr famous.
24. someone i’d like to be for a day and why.
25. 5 things within touching distance.
26. story of my first kiss.

Sometimes people end their conversations because they believe there is nothing left to learn. Fuck what that silence says and how terribly fucking wrong it can be.

Interesting way of putting it…

July can’t come soon enough

Being taken for granted is all about relativity. How have they treated you in the past and how do they now? How did others treat you when they lost their drive for you, when the thought of you ceased to light a fire within them? The moment the present is sacrificed to the future is when the complacency begins. The act itself is subtle, but the affects are devastating. Maybe we’re just made of different stuff. Maybe I burn longer and hotter, but what if I’m just more flammable. Am I the flame or the accelerant?

The feeling of vulnerability. It’s when one must be handled with the most care and given space to break. To me, feeling vulnerable is teetering on the edge. You’re either going to keep it buried inside you, the cracks mended by invisible duct tape. The usual facade. The affectation of  fine-ness, but you’re not. You implode. I think of it as a straightjacket, the way your arms are straining uselessly at awkward angles and falling on your face seems unavoidable. Or you’re going to snap, let it all go, and completely, utterly, shatter. You explode. I think of it as a vase being knocked over by a child. That image of porcelain on mahogany rocking ever so slowly, the held breath, hearts on the floor. It’s lightning storms in your chest. The taste of sadness on your tongue. The heaviness of your suffocating heart cradled inside your rising and falling chest. It’s memories haunting you and nostalgia inflicting more sadness than happiness. It’s the feeling of sinking, being pulled under the surface in sodden winter layers. It’s being inspired to write disjointed paragraphs, pouring yourself onto the page, unable to finish thoughts like

Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a person’s sexual choice is the result and sum of their fundamental convictions. Tell me what a person finds sexually attractive and I will tell you their entire philosophy of life. Show me the person they sleep with and I will tell you their valuation of themselves. No matter what corruption they’re taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which they cannot perform for any motive but their own enjoyment - just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity! - an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exultation, only on the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces them to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and accept their real ego as their standard of value. They will always be attracted to the person who reflects their deepest vision of themselves, the person whose surrender permits them to experience - or to fake - a sense of self-esteem. Love is our response to our highest values and can be nothing else.

Taking my HIST3618 Final. LEGGGOOOOOOO