The Bisexual Energy Jumped Out

Bring them back! Bring back the loose, low cut shirts!

Hey Boys

You see this outfit?

The loose, low cut shirt? Yeah, could you not wear that anymore?

Some of us can’t handle it

I reblog this because I want to be able to find it later. I'm so stressed about the thesis and the deadline is so close and my prof is not communicating with me and everything is wrong. BUT I also feel really inspired today and am actually looking forward to write, so that's good I think.

wholesome student life things that we should collectively start romancizing

waking up and being genuinely thrilled to go to class because today is THAT CLASS you love so much you’d like it to never end

coffee breaks with friends, chatting and joking about this particularly hard essay and the prof’s mannerism

coffee breaks on your own, as you absent-mindedly watch the people around you, while thinking about what you’re working on

finding this book you’ve been dying to read for so long, and borrowing it from the library

the feeling of excitement that goes through you whenever you remember The Book is in your backpack

understanding everything during demanding classes and being genuinely interested in the subject

buying a New Special Pen and taking colorful notes that look super pretty

not being able to shut up about your school projects (no your friends dont really care about the intricate details of what you’re working on, they don’t even have the same major as you, but they’re happy to hear you rant with such a burning passion)

actually doing the extra reading and having your curiosity so piqued by what you’re reading that you go on and on and suddenly its 1am and what happened

printing the project you’ve spent so much time and energy on and feeling the paper’s warmth

actually submitting that project without feeling awful about it because you know you did your best and aren’t responsible for what happens next

when you finally finish this Super Hard And Important Essay at like 3am, open the window and feel the cold night air on your burning cheeks and everything is dark and quiet and you can see the moon and you’re at peace with everything for a few minutes

when this professor you admire says you did a great job and/or that you’re talented!!!!

realizing two concepts that seemed so far away from each other and that you discovered in wildly different contexts are actually interlinked, then Realizing™ things and linking concepts/works/articles to each other at the speed of light & being super excited about it

being so deeply immersed in your work that you didn’t realize two hours have passed

finding the Perfect Spot at the library

that Pure Joy moment when you FINALLY understand that super obscure sentence/text

when you feel anxious because you’re not done with your homework & the deadline is super tight & your friend tells you they aren’t done yet either

same but with an even more intense relief feeling when you realize you both haven’t even started yet

when the professor starts a new reasoning and you can predict what the next idea/the final conclusion will be

when the professor mention your favorite novel/author/fictional character in class and you feel like your internal screech of joy could shatter glass

the Academic Salt™ that has you like 👀👀

when the professor tears apart an author or scholar you hate and you’re like YES I WANT BLOOD GIVE ME BLOOD

when you learn that Cool New Fact that makes you reconsider your whole life

leaving the library after a long productive day and feeling like nothing is real but experiencing everything more intensely

leaving the library at night after a long study session and everybody has left already and its just you and the long neon-lit corridors then stepping outside and smelling the crisp night wind

feel free to add your own!!!

I’m just going to say it: to my fellow white people, READ AFRICAN-AMERICAN LITERATURE. James Baldwin! Toni Morrison! Ralph Ellison! There are many, many authors out there, so expand your horizons! Read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. Read The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. If you’re into art, discover African American artists! Henry Ossawa Tanner! Mickalene Thomas! LaToya Ruby Frazier! I truly encourage all of you to be open to new perspectives! Not just that, but educate yourselves. Be an ally to the black community! Listen to what these people have to say!

At this point it’s like who am I not in love with

As a lesbian™️ I just want to let any/all of my trans followers know in the wake of JK Rowlings further hateful comments on the trans community, that I stand with you. Trans men are valid as hell. Trans women are valid as hell (and absolutely b e a u t I f u l in this humble lesbians opinion). Shame on JK Rowling for trying to use my identity as a lesbian (which she doesn't even identify as) to invalidate trans people. Shame on anyone who hates on the trans community.

“I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones. Basically it is nothing other than this fear we have so often talked about, but fear spread to everything, fear of the greatest as of the smallest, fear, paralyzing fear of pronouncing a word, although this fear may not only be fear but also a longing for something greater than all that is fearful.” - Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

Tom: *wants to play Spider-Man in the reboot of the reboot and wants to be in a movie with Jake Gyllenhaal*

Tom: *gets cast as Spider-Man and gets Jake Gyllenhaal to be in his movie*

Me: *wants to pass all of her exams and get enough sleep for once*

Me: *fails horribly as she types this at 1am*

4/4/2021

Textures of the sleepy forest, cold air, wind running through the naked branches, czech nature, cold spring days, easter holidays, dirty shoes, taking pictures, feeling the creative rush, tones of brown, red noses and calmness.

photos are mine

Just reread the song of achilles, haven’t stopped thinking about Patroclus committing Achilles to memory in the crystal cave with “Achilles' eyes were bright in the firelight, his face drawn sharply by the flickering shadows. I would know it in dark or disguise, I told myself. I would know it even in madness,” and later when Achilles is whisked to Scyros and Patroclus crosses the sea to find him and recognizes Achilles among the dancers and thinks to himself “Had she really thought I would not know him? I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world,” and when the Greek army finally arrives in Troy, Patroclus admires the walled city from a distance and “Later, I would see those walls up close, their sharp squared stones perfectly cut and fitted against each other, the work of the god Apollo, it was said. And I would wonder at them at how, ever, the city could be taken. For they were too high for siege towers, and too strong for catapults, and no sane person would ever try to climb their sheer, divinely smoothed face,” and a decade later he’s driven to that very act of madness by grief and violent desperation “I leap from the chariot and run to the walls. My fingers find slight hollows in the stone, like blind eye-sockets. Climb. My feet seek infinitesimal chips in the god-cut rocks. I am not graceful, but scrabbling, my hands clawing against the stone before they cling. Yet I am climbing,” and when Patroclus proves so fearsome that Apollo is forced to intervene and send Patroclus to his death, “The last thing I think is: Achilles,” and after the war when he finally joins Achilles in the underworld, “In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun,” and how Patroclus kept his promise to recognize Achilles in death, in madness, in darkness, at the end of the world.

I so understand this.

Tmw you find yourself explaining maladaptive dreaming to someone and then you realize no one asked and you’re by yourself in your room at 12 am