yah body yah
I have puffy nipples soz
me: starts crying
someone else: what’s wrong
me: this is just something that happens
Me: I am exhausted literally all of the time and these levels don’t change whether I have 4 hours of sleep or 12 hours of sleep
Neurotypical: haha well did u kno that u can sleep TOO MUCH?? Lol you’re still tired afterwards if u sleep too much sweaty have u tried a sleep schedule??? :)))) maybe u should cut down on caffeine
Me: ……
honest to god if you want to be my friend just skip the awkward phase. send me a meme and call me a bitch. do it in the name of friendship
Me when I’m at work: uh excuse me I need to go smoke weed in my car real fast and listen to Jolene by Dolly Parton then I’ll be right back
TIL the Dung Beetle is the only known insect that uses the Milky Way as a reference to move in a straight line despite not being able to see individual stars. Scientists initially thought they were using the moon, however they still moved in a straight line on moonless nights.
I fucking hate space, I hate the universe, I hate science and I hate when shit like this happens. how in the fuck does a wholr species of fucking insects know to look up at the sky at all let alone actually follow the direction of a whole fucking galaxy. why the shit was I even born. why do I exist. this pisses me the fuck off. I wish I was dead
all that knowledge just to roll literal balls of shit….. the cosmic ballet goes on
Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.
I’m not worth the cost of a watch.
Maybe if you develop talents and skills you’ll be worth more.
hello,
later in this thread, you will call me a man. i bring this up because there are a lot of assumptions made in this small sentence, and that’s one of them. you will say this is “a man’s sob story.” isn’t it interesting, i think to myself, that it’s so easy to define someone, just like that, just based on one brief passage of their life.
this, to me, is how most people like you have replied to me. they offer advice (some of them, kindly) about what i should do. i’m not mad at you; that advice is valid and i think if i was someone else it would ring true.
what am i worth? this blog with over six thousand pieces is me developing my talent as a writer, does that count? does my two published books (one for charity, if you’re a philanthropist, though you can buy either here: X) count? do the six other novels i wrote for pleasure alone count? i’ve been writing since i was in the second grade. but this, i know, is not my worth, even if it’s enough for you to read and reply to. even if i am good, this is not a talent that you mean.
what am i worth? experience includes, but is not limited to: 10 years teaching, 5 years editing, 5 years tutoring, 3 years of retail. at this point i should mention i’m 23, just to remind you i’m very very busy. on top of this is volunteer work, starting clubs, extracurricular activities, oh and since you were asking? i graduated recently, magna cum laude.
what am i worth? to people like you, you see me as someone who you think low of. probably dropped out of middle school. who complains without trying. that my job was high-ranking and skill-based doesn’t matter to you. working-class people are only ever at the bottom because of what we do. because you see the world black and white; either you work and you win or else you end up selling watches to men who are worth more than you.
what am i worth? i’m a cuban woman with a degree. i make 54 cents for every dollar i would have made as the man who you thought was telling you that sob story. a man makes almost two dollars by the time i make one. i have skills, i have connections, i have passion and drive and everything. that job selling watches? not my first, nor my last. so here’s the thing. i know you think every person who has different life circumstances, who flounders or who chooses a path is less than you. we deserve to be at the bottom, right? we did something wrong to be here.
my question is: what are you worth? i did everything right - everything. so how come i’m selling watches while you’re telling me to pick myself up by the bootstraps. what did you do to be where you are? and are you sure we’re so different? are you sure that it’s not just convenient to write us off? are you sure that the whisper you hear telling you “she just needs to work hard” isn’t the voice of a man at the top, making sure all of the turtles below don’t let him fall off?
we are taught from a very young age that our job is our worth. this is how they keep us in mud and in dirt. when you can look down on others, you forget you’re still squashed if you live in the middle. come down here with me, yurtle, and off your high perch. i think you’d be surprised at how much i am worth.
does anyone else require an advance notice of at least three (3) working days to physically and mentally prepare for any and all forms of social activity or is it just me
The curb cutter effect here is HUGE. I can’t tell you how many times having captions has saved me, not due to hearing issues, but due to noisy kids. Thanks, NAD.
Also great for watching loud movies in the middle of the night without waking up your neighbors in your thin-walled apartment building.
Why the poignant dialogue in between explosions has to be so damn quiet is beyond me, and I hate having to keep adjusting the volume.
