No blogging from me for a while due to things happening and needing to focus on college.
I see your shifting gaze, that disgusted glance. I know you’re questioning my parenting from across the elementary school assembly.
Let me tell you a little story about the kindergarten student with bright purple hair, my little Raven Marie…
A month before school started she decided to play hair stylist with the craft scissors, and to save what was left I had to opt for a pixie cut. She was absolutely devastated. It was about three hours before she stopped her harsh sobbing and hiccups.
She has thought that the length of a girls hair was what made her “girly”. I know I’ve personally had many hairstyles around her before, including a purple mohawk, which many people criticized as not being “girly” enough. Media, other children, other parents, and society made it worse. She would randomly burst in tears while out in public for the first week of her new style, screaming that she looked like a boy. That everyone would think she’s a boy.
At one point she took off her bow in her hair, threw it at a cashier and screamed, “I DON’T NEED THIS BOW TO TELL YOU THAT I’M NOT A BOY, BECAUSE I’M NOT”
Proudly stomping away in her blue jean overalls, head held high.
Once we edged closer to the first day of school she kept asking questions like, “Do you think the other kids will like me? Do you think they’ll be my friend? Will they think I’m a boy? Will they pick on me because I have boy hair?”
So I went to the grocery store, bought some dye, and spent the whole night transforming my bright blonde little girl into a plum punk rock fairy. I then assured her that if any of the kids didn’t like her, they were just jealous.
As for you, mothers and teachers with the wandering eyes filled with disgust and judgement, I’m in the business of raising a free spirit.
Here’s to you, Raven Marie. I love you.
I SUPPORT THIS 11766%
why are people even questioning obesity in america
why is your tea liquidised?
….. Where exactly do you live that the tea isn’t liquid?!?
ENGLAND. WHERE IT IS IN A BAG AND YOU MAKE IT YOURSELF.
like what do you do with already liquid tea? Microwave it?
No it’s sweet tea you drink it cold
WHO DRINKS COLD TEA???
HAVE YOU NEVER HAD ICED/SWEET TEA BEFORE?!?
so i reblogged this from a british person and i’ve been laughing at their tags for 600 years
England, you stole tea from China. You’ve had it a mere 4 centuries compared to their 30+. Don’t play like you’re some kind of authority.
Shots fired. World War Tea has officially begun.
My activity spikes every Wednesday because of this post
always reblog on a wednesday, that’s the rule.
Dammit its Wednesday and I would have been rethinking scrolling past this all day if I didn’t reblog
“If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?”
lol yes, so then i can shave.
One minute, 37 seconds.
My legs are shaking. Holy cow, there is no way I can do this. None.
One minute, 29 secods.
I glance around at the faces surrounding the room. Of course my Meeting would take place in the gross, overcrowded cafeteria.
One minute, six seconds.
Somewhere within these four walls, someone has the exact same countdown on their wrist. They’re going through the exact same pressure as me.
Mom said I should be excited, not nervous. Yet I still find myself wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. I can’t believe she talked me into wearing a dress. I mean, shouldn’t my Soul Mate meet me as I normally am? All plain jeans, blah shirts, and wild brown curls?
Something deep within me tells me to stand up. I do, drawing the attention of my tablemates. They all know too. They smile encouragingly up at me. I chew my lip nervously.
That same feeling pulls me towards the center of the room. My stomach drops away from me as I take a step in that direction.
I continue in that direction. With each step the tempo of my heart picks up.
17. More rapid.
16. It’s racing.
Oh my god this is it. The moment my life changes forever.
My eyes search frantically around the cafeteria, searching for someone who looks as nervous as me. For someone who’s heading towards their future with no sense of direction like me.
The feeling directs me slightly to the left. I turn to accomodate.
5. My heart has given up entirely.
4. I stop walking.
3. Just waiting left.
2. Everything is about to change.
1. Deep breath.
0000 d 00 h 00 m 00 s
Someone bumps my shoulder. I twirl around and my gray eyes meet blue, blue ones.
“Hello there, love. It appears as though we’re Soul Mates then, eh?”
As my words fail me, the only thing I can think is “I’m so glad I shaved this morning.”
“Thats weird…” I checked my wrist, the clock had just hit the 30 second mark but I looked around and there was no one there. I was a worrisome guy overall but I felt justified, I mean today was the day I was meeting my soul mate. Not that I expected my dream girl to be in the storage closet at work but still I was nervous.
Walking out with a box the boss had requested I walked back to my cash register setting it on the shelf. My wrist hit the 20 second mark
Where was she? I could not help but get worried that an error would pop up or that she was gone and my timer would run out with no response. I panicked, I’d change my own fate if I had to. Running out of time I hurried through the back door. There was a park outside and maybe I was supposed to be there to find my soul mate.
A faint ding of the doorbell hit my ear. Wait was that it?? She was here! I turned around running back to the counter. “Don’t worry I’m just in the back!”
I ran out looking at my wrist as it hit zero. Out of breath “Hi I’m Matt!” Sticking out my hand for a handshake it was met by a firm hand. Meeting my soulmate’s eyes for the first time they spoke.
“I’m Steven.” The man gave a smile “It’s nice to meet you.”
I watch my friend carefully. Her excitement is glowing all over her pretty face. Exactly 2 minutes left, she tells me. We’re waiting at the bus stop and the bus is coming in two minutes. I think she hoped she’d meet them on a beach at sunset or something.
”I mean that’s ok - these things can’t always be romantic I mean my mum met dad when he was working at the book store and it’s not like you can plan it to be romantic I just hoped, I mean everyone hopes don’t they-” she breaks off, looking at me awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s just a big day for me you know.” Yes I do know. You’ve been going on about it for the past year. I smile at her.
”Don’t worry. You nervous? You’ll be ok, you always are,” I grin, determined not to ruin this for her. It’s selfish of me to be moody. This is her future being determined. Right here. In now, precisely 1 minute 30 seconds.
She smiles at me, but it isn’t quite reaching her eyes. She’s restless and keeps tapping her foot. Her eyes are wide with.. fear? Excitement? Nerves? Probably all of them and a thousand more things I can’t imagine. She keeps checking her wrist. So do I. The bus comes around the corner. 1 minute 10 seconds.
”Hey. I’ll leave you alone now ok? The bus is here. I’ll sit a couple of seats away, and be there if you need me,” I say, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “Good luck.” I hope it sounded sincere.
The bus pulls up and I climb on first, taking a quick glance at her while I give the driver my ticket. She’s shaking and looks a little green. I want to give her a hug but know I shouldn’t interrupt now. I look at the passengers and it’s full of pensioners. My heart starts beating frantically. What? I can’t see anyone else at the bus stop. But she’s only 18, she can’t end up with a 80 year old.
I turn around and look at her - she’s breathing hard. The bus driver asks if she’s ok but she ignores him. Her eyebrows are creased and her face is flushed. Oh. Oh no. Stay calm. Someone is probably late. I give her a thumbs up and try to smile reassuringly. I think it’s more of a grimace.
I take a seat near the back. Look at my watch. 25 seconds. She sits down a few seats away.
Suddenly a dark shape runs past my window and a boy jumps on the bus. He has that same frantic look in his eyes. I breathe out with relief.
”Yeah get on, we’re running late,” the driver says, taking his ticket. The boy looks around, carefully stepping towards the seats. He’s tall and handsome, holding a sketchbook. I smile slightly; my friend hates art.
He spots her.
His eyes widen as he walks closer, as if being pulled by an invisible rope.
My friend stands up too, that same rope tying her to him.
1 second -
”I was worried the bus would leave. No way could I miss meeting my soul mate!” he jokes, though he looks just as nervous as she. They smile at each other as they both sit down together. I can’t hear what they’re talking about.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly I’m crying. Hot tears dropping down my cheeks.
I look at my wrist, scratching at it. Trying to get rid of it.
The numbers have never changed.
They’ve always been at 0.
Chills. I have chills. Everybody above me better write some continuance, I’m serious.
the last one was fucking heartbreaking
These stories are amazing
She sat at the doctor’s office nervously. She is thirty, divorced, with a five year old son. Her ex-husband left her for this…contraption. Their son had been barely a year old when the technology to “find your soul mate” came out. He packed his bags and went straight to the doctor’s office. When he came back, he kicked her out, with their son.
“My counter is at zero,” he’d said. “That means my soul mate hasn’t gotten hers yet. But you should probably leave now so that when she does, I will be free to meet her.” She hadn’t cried that day. She felt like she might cry today though.
The doctor came in with a needle. She held up her right arm wordlessly. He injected her with the device and her arm burned and began to vibrate painfully.
“Oh good,” exclaimed the doctor. “That means that your soul mate already has his implanted. Less waiting around for you!” She could not manage to even fake being excited. They looked down together at the numbers that were forming on her wrist. She murmured them nearly silently.
“Negative six years, seven months, eight days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.” She shook her head. The exact moment when she had met her ex-husband. The doctor started sputtering.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before. How could you have already met your soul mate and not known it?” he asked.
“Because, doctor, that bastard left me for your technology,” she explained simply. As she hopped off the table, he began offering to remove it for her.
“If it isn’t going to work, I will remove it, free of charge. I am so sorry,” he kept apologizing.
“No,” she said simply. “I knew what it would say. I want to keep it. That way, every time the bastard looks down at his arm, he will know what he lost while he was searching for something better.” She smiled to herself, collected her bag and her son from the reception area and walked out into the warm summer air.
As she put her son in the backseat of the car, her cell phone started ringing. She pulled it out of her purse and saw his number. He must have just figured it out. Very calmly, she set the phone down on the pavement behind her driver’s side tire. She could hear it ringing insistently as she climbed in and put the car in reverse. There was a small bump as she ran over the phone and she looked with glee at the pile of plastic and glass where it had once been.
“Where are we going now Mommy?” her son asked from the backseat.
“Anywhere we want baby,” she said. “Anywhere we want.”
Throwback. That time me and Leavitt did a webcomic for DC before they cancelled the whole imprint, clung to everyone’s copyright so they couldn’t do anything for 5 years, lied to their creators and embittered everyone involved. Oh what good times those were.
Puppet Makers by Molly Crabapple and John Leavitt
Being a teenager is hard. But the German home improvement chain Hornbach knows having parents who go the extra mile to show their support can make a big difference.
This is the kind of dad I want to be.