you ever thought that maybe the reason girls say they’re fine when they’re not, or they’re not mad when they are, is because the second they show any semblance of emotion they’re written off as hysterical bitches that are probably on their period?
THE FUCKING DA VINCI CODE HAS BEEN CRACKED
Reblogging again, because this will never be irrelevant.
someone saying that they’ve missed you
or that they appreciate you
or that something reminded them of you
basically someone making you feel that they’ve thought of you and that you being around means something to them
(Source: jaclcfrost, via nerd-in-the-tardis)
Welcome to Townhouse #2, wherein dwell four women: A Biochemistry Major, an Anthropology Major, A Math Major, and A Pre-vet Biology Major. Three have an exam tomorrow, the fourth an essay due. Enter the villain of our story. The vicious microwave. Viscous growls echo through the halls as it’s malicious eyes flash with lightning. Then after our heroines have defeated the beast, barely escaping after pulling its plug, the biochemistry major learns of yet another villain— The Clothes- From-The-Drier-Remover. She valiantly retrieves her laundry, in hopes that all of her underwear and socks have made it back to the abode. Our heroines recline, content in their victories, ready to carry out the evening chores, when alas! The Sink- Beast strikes! Water pours forth from its gaping maw. The water is too much. The math major goes to close the shut off valves, vanquishing the beast. She fails. The heroines begin to carry water down to the washtub a story below. Finally, at long last, a maintenance worker arrives seconds after the Math Major finally manages to shut off the shattered faucet. They are told the faucet will be fixed upon the morrow. And so, our heroines, hormonal women diverse, straggle off into the cold, in search of sweet, frozen dairy products. And possibly chocolate.
No one is perfect.
What use would “us” be if either “you” or “I” was?
Being sick is miserable. It is not caring whether or not your bed is made. It is not caring whether or not a mug is clean, until you want it to make tea. It’s not caring how eloquent your writing is. It’s not having the strength to reblog all those posts you liked on tumblr.
Green jacket by the door.
Today I noticed my jacket hanging on the back of the door. I haven’t worn it since the last time I was in the stable,and it still smells ever so faintly of horse. My mind automatically combined the musky scent of horse with the springlike air.
I can just imagine myself, green jacket and all, rapidly turning gray with mud as I groom my mare. Actually, I would probably grow a fur coat of my own if I tried to groom the shaggy beast right now. I would most likely forget about the mud, and swipe an arm across my face and give my self a muddy beard.
Its because of moments like these that it’s days like today that I miss the barn the most. You know the kind; the sun finally peeks out from behind the clouds to shimmer across the puddles. You can look out across any stretch of grass and so easily picture the mud forming in the pastures back home.
Gotta love winter.
Winter in New York is something special. Its not something that you can pin down; everyday the weather is different. Two days ago, The wind was bitter cold, and the littlest bit of snow dusted the campus paths. I’m almost positive the tip of my nose fell off from frostbite that day. Fast forward a few days, and the Sun is shining glinting off of the remains of the previous days snowfall. Today, the temperature rose to tolerable levels; I could have gone to class in a sweater, instead of my wool coat.
I know many people who rejoice when the temperature rises above freezing. I am not one of them. the 30’s are a bane to me; I can never seem to stop shivering. It is also then that the snow begins to melt, the paths fill with puddles and slush, and the quad outside my building turns into a swamp. No, I definitely prefer the coo, crisp, twenties: warm enough that your toes remain firmly affixed to your feet, but cold enough that the snow does not melt during the day, only to freeze in the frigid night air.
Give me snow and sun any day, and I will cheerfully bundle up against the chill. Pour down on me with rain and thunder and bone deep shivers, and you’re just asking for me to stay indoors.
I love getting messages, it makes me feel kinda, I dunno, important. I’m also always looking for followers.So all of my followers (both old and new, past and future), feel free to message me about anything, anon or not! I’m really not a scary person!
A bit about me I guess,
I’m a college student in New York State. I don’t think I’m a fabulous writer, but I do an okay job. I like horses and Doctor Who. Harry Potter and I go way back ( the book that is)
I never used to like hay lofts.
Oh, I had a multitude of reasons. I hated the dust. I was even once afraid of heights; that year, I couldn’t bring myself to the scale the ladder. Now however, There is something oh-so-relaxing, and oh-so-familiar about a hay loft.
In the summer, the sun peeks through the windows at the ends of the barn, and dust motes drift to and fro on the breezes that find themselves trapped indoors. I like to sit among the beams that cross the open space, just sit and listen. When the horses are indoors, their chomping and stamping echoes up the ladder. But even when they are outdoors, the barn is not silent. The swallows chatter and the cats prowl; you never know when a cat will drop down on your shoulders from above. Hoof beats and noisy whickering work their way through the wooden walls and comfort me.
In the winter, the barn is quiet. Most of the cows have left the property until spring, and the swallows have fled the frigid air. The loft though, is still cozy. Mounds of hay trap what little warmth has not been driven away. The cats still hunt for sleepy-eyed mice. And I still sit here, and listen to the sound of my mare breathing below me.
I think that hill has gotten taller since the last time I’ve climbed it.
No, I am positive.
The walk took seconds, once upon a time. I used to scale the hillside in such a cheerful mood; I was happy, and bubbly, and my music made the walk go faster. Now my thoughts swirl round and round as heavy as an anchor. Thoughts of waves and chemical reactions, and the ever present thoughts of you threaten to shove me down the mountain.
+EFFERVESCENCE: I need more blogs to follow...
So, here’s a list of the stuff I like…
- Doctor Who,
- Harry Potter,
- Arts and crafts,
- Humorous stories,
- Chronicles of Narnia,
- Fandoms in general,
- Prose/writing/short stories,
- Boys, ;)
- Percy Jackson,
- Music (<3),
- Drake and Josh,
- Creepy/stalkery/funny posts,
I don’t really post here much. My fandom/ random blog is justforkickandgiggleIf you actually want to see posts, follow me there.
Every. Single. Person. That reblogs this will get a customized doodle of their URL based on what their blog looks like. I’m bored and have waaaay to much time on my hands.
Sometimes I find myself just wanting to curl up in a corner. Either that or shout curses to the sky. Today is a day dominated by those moments.