This blog has no theme, no purpose and now hidden message, except for escape.This blog sums up most of what goes on in my head. Welcome to my thoughts.
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I took my little brother (who falls on the autism spectrum) to see Guardians of the Galaxy and after this scene he lit up like a Christmas tree and screamed “He’s like me! He can’t do metaphors!” And for the rest of the film my brother stared at Drax in a state of rapture.
So for the last 6 days I have heard my brother repeatedly quote all of the Drax lines from the movie verbatim (one of his talents), begin studying vocabulary test words, and tell everyone he knows that people with autism can also be superheroes.
Now I am not saying that Drax the Destroyer is, or was ever, intended to be autistic. All I am saying is that it warmed my heart to see my brother have an opportunity to identify himself with a character known for his strength, badassness, and honor. And that is pretty damn awesome.
So while I adored Guardians of the Galaxy as a great fun loving film with cool characters I can do nothing but thank Marvel Studios and Dave Bautista for finally bringing a superhero to the screen that my little brother can relate to.
This is an old pic I took of one of my friends. We went to the sea, and she told me her boyfriend broke her heart that day. And oh god oh god she was so sad. She took off all of her clothes and jumped in the water without saying a word. I watched her swimming so far and then coming back. When she walked out she sat near the water and I took this picture of her. I’ll never forget her.
Why do people act like being a vampire is so fucking great. You can’t eat garlic bread so what’s the point
Okay first of all fuck garlic bread
What the fuck. What thef. Uck. You come on here, you come into my house, you take a shit on my post you shit on garlic bread, you shit on everything I stand for, on this, the day of my daughter’s wedding… .
What's the most illegal thing you ever did?
At Stanford there was this Professor who was a total bitch and she taught British Literature, which was cool. Except she taught only her opinions of the books and it didn’t help me as a writer. I went to school to learn new things to improve my craft, not have someone else’s opinions carved onto my forehead.
So anyway, for our final project, she asked us to write a ten page paper on why the color symbolism in Othello was so significant. I did some research and it turned out that she did her entire graduate thesis on this very subject. I was mad. This wasn’t teaching, this was boosting her ego. SO I wrote a ten page essay on why color symbolism in Othello wasn’t significant, satirizing it to the point of no return, saying that her opinion was an opinion and shouldn’t be taken seriously.
SHe failed me, needless to say. So in retaliation, I responded by baking a batch of brownies laced with weed and laxatives and delivered them myself to the professor hours before her big graduation speech. I told her that it was a peace offering, my way of apologizing and asking if I could do anything to fix my grade.
She refused to fix my grade.
In the end, she shit herself on stage.
I didn’t regret it.
"I went to school to learn new things and improve my craft, not have someone else’s ideas carved onto my forehead."
I’ve found my senior quote.
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