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How many people’s most beloved childhood stuffed animals are actually teddy bears, like I feel like that’s a thing someone made up. Reblog this and put what your longest owned and/or favorite stuffed animal as a child was in the tags, inquiring minds want to know
Unfortunately the way to leave the house is just to do it. You gotta put on some bad eyeliner and go to the club alone and talk to no one and get too drunk and cry all the way home because you’re so useless. And then you wake up the next day and realize, “Oh, I guess that wasn’t so bad.” Maybe you do it a few more times just to get the lesson to really stick. And then you’re free. Then you can do anything.
I’ve got to figure out how to actually do this and talk to people while I still live in a city with a goth club.
when you’re younger you make fun of it because it seems boring but one of the best parts of getting older and maturing is recognizing how simply lovely all that cliche shit is. sunsets really are so endlessly satisfying. the hint of lilacs in the breeze really is soft and delicate and sweet. sometimes it feels good just to successfully clean the sink, to find an affordable appliance in the color you’ve been wanting, to try a new recipe, to finally get through that one television series like how you’ve been meaning.
it seemed stupid because they tell you - it’ll feel quick - but it does feel quick. when i was younger it was like time was molasses. i couldn’t get out of there fast enough. all the eras of my life stretched out into taffy. but then you are 29 on a walk with a friend and you both just stop to smell the lily of the valley at your feet. you are both standing there, quiet, enjoying the simple moment of peace.
they say it gets better a lot, which used to have no meaning to me. better for me was undefined and daunting. but here is one way it got better without me trying - a few days ago i was walking my dog and stopped to stand in a sunbeam, turning my cheeks up at the shaft of golden fairylights, the dustmotes in the wood all shivering their little dancing bodies. a stranger stopped and kind of cocked her head and said basking? and i laughed nervously, already moving to get out of her way. instead, she said can i bask with you? and we stood there, full adults, a soundless hum in our chest. when the clouds came back over the sun, we made that awkward small talk - yeah i didn’t expect it to be this chilly! and haha spring allergies are comin’.
and you pour yourself a cup of tea and are delighted when you measure the sugar ratio perfectly and you manage to parallel park correctly on the first time (probably because nobody was looking) and yoga really did help your lower back mobility and brown paper packages really do tug on your heartstrings and you love sweaters and furry blankets and watching your little potted plants grow one new and shining leaf and you want to find your younger self and say. yes, i am nostalgic for summers that bent like wheat and were buzzing with low energy and sleep. but darling. adulthood gets better because the time condenses into a prayerbook of your own psalms, these tender beautiful memories. it gets better because things become prettier, gentler, kinder to you - somehow. without you even noticing. you just get to the top of the hill and you realize - oh, this is the thing i’ve been missing.
Sorry, I could never be a capitalist, I suffer from “wanting humans to have their basic needs met” disorder, where I care about people who aren’t me.
Someone once asked me if, assuming we got universal healthcare, I would be okay with the rise in “healthcare tourism” where people who are sick come to our country to get their medical bills taken care of and life-saving medical treatment cheaper than in their home countries.
I was just like, yeah thats fine, I’d actually prefer it if 0 people died from preventable causes kept behind a paywall for no reason.
“even the addicts?” yeah dude did i fucking stutter
In addition to being pastors, my parents were both also professional teachers. My mom has a master’s in education.
I still wish I wasn’t homeschooled.
Like, I run into folks now who get super excited when I tell them I was homeschooled because they’re thinking about homeschooling if they ever have a kid and want intel, and they get super grumpy and dismissive and defensive when I tell them how absolutely debilitating it was socially, and that it really wasn’t worth it just to be a year ahead in math.
And part of that is this sense that homeschooling is an opportunity for you to customize your child. It’s usually an extension of a broader fantasy that that’s what parenthood is about. That you can minmax your child’s stats and construct the perfect build, and the only reason everyone’s all screwed up is just that nobody sat down and really micromanaged their child’s education enough. Other teachers (and peers, for that matter) might steer them in directions you don’t want.
Even when done well, homeschooling is about removing those outside influences so you can control their environment and prioritize your own goals for them. It’s a magnet for people with narcissism and control issues as a result, it’s a magnet for fundamentalists, but it’s also a magnet for idealists. Sometimes it even works out great, hell, there are people who for accessibility reasons will likely be taught far better at home. But that’s more a “lesser of two evils” situation.
One person cannot be smarter in every single subject than every single teacher that the kid would ever have. They can’t singlehandedly replace the socialization, the networking, the mentorship, and the life experiences. And to think that they can borders on megalomania.
