they've got an awful lot of coffee in brazil

1 week ago (1 note)

#joepaterno
#facebook
#stfu

Disgusted by certain members of my generation

On Facebook, people are outcrying about the death of Joe Paterno. Either because they idolize(d) him or because they hate the people that are idolizing him.

Well. They’re both in the wrong.

First, and the most crucial: He knew child rape was happening. He did the very barest of minimums to stop it. This is unbelievably grave. The psychological effects on those children will last their lifetimes. As far as violations of the most basic of human rights go, rape, and particularly that of a defenseless child, is the worst. To remove any blame from someone who does not do their utmost to prevent it is morally reprehensible. I don’t care whether he was a great friend/coach/supporter of Penn State, his inaction is inexcusable. To hear people cite his glowing attributes as if they counterbalance that inaction is a. disgusting and b. indicative of a deeper problem in society in which the gravity of such a crime is discussed as a side note or worse, defended.

Second, this mob mentality is reminiscent of French Revolution insanity. Riots in the streets, vilifying those who are not focusing on the characteristics of a man the majority of us don’t know, but on the crimes and his inaction. The stream of Facebook statuses and tribute photos/videos has turned into a pissing contest of “Who Can Mourn Louder and More Aggressively”. I somehow suspect (due to the fact that most of the vocal parties have never spoken to the man) that some of these people are not in actual mourning but are, instead, trying to outdo their peers and accumulate the most “Likes”. Do you get a gold star if you say you loved him more than the other thousands of students at PSU say they do?

Third, towards those who are aggressively anti-Joe Paterno memorial posts, c’mon. Be respectful. He passed away, and there are those who did genuinely care about him (despite his colossal mishandling of the situation). Those people (his family, friends, a number of students), in remembering a person they loved, do not deserve to have their grief mocked. They don’t need to feel guilty for feeling sad that they’ve lost a loved one, no matter how grave his mistakes were. Again, not removing blame one iota, I just believe that grief is uncontrollable and people should not have to defend their mourning.

Lastly, for God’s sake, grammar. If your intention is to make an intelligent argument for one side or the other, grammar should be a basic staple.

1 week ago

Drinking Games that I thought of tonight

1. (inspired by a TJ Miller tweet): List the 99 problems that JayZ has. Except bitches. Because that ain’t one. When someone can’t think of one, they have to drink. Someone is in charge of counting, the person who gets 99 has to finish their drink.

2. Nope, that was the only one.

1 week ago (3 notes)

View high resolution

This is what I look like when I’m drunk at 3AM

1 week ago (2,831 notes)

Oh hell yeah, Jen

(Source: heatherlynn007, via genluvsyou)

2 weeks ago

"I weigh up my past against my future, but find both of them excellent"

Franz Kafka “The Way Home”

2 weeks ago (1 note)

"When they were introduced, he made a witticism, hoping to be liked. She laughed extremely hard, hoping to be liked. Then each drove home alone, staring straight ahead, with the very same twist to their faces. The man who’d introduced them didn’t much like either of them, though he acted as if he did, anxious as he was to preserve good relations at all times. One never knew, after all, now did one now did one now did one."

David Foster Wallace “Brief Interviews With Hideous Men”

3 weeks ago

Dream - Priscilla Ahn

If I stretched my hand out just a bit further, I could touch that branch.
Just one soft fingerpad upon that smooth bark.
And maybe that touch could be a grasp,
and maybe that grasp could be solid enough to climb.
And if I could climb, I could swing.
Swing branch to branch, around the trunk, higher and higher. The wind would whistle through my ears and the leaves would brush my face, fleeting lover’s kisses.
And I would be weightless among the birds, the clouds, the sky.

I wouldn’t worry about the ground, the dirt, the roots.
Nevermind the hands reaching for me,
Nevermind the twine coiling around my ankles,
Nevermind the minnows nibbling my toes
I could be among the wind

But when those soft kisses become scratches,
the trickle of warm dark redness from my cheek washed away by
the stream of warm salty clearness
It seems that I couldn’t be weightless, fearless, or free.

3 weeks ago

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.] 1 play

Strange & Beautiful - Aqualung

Him: I had this dream about her the other night. You know, the kind you hope to God is real when you wake up. We were sitting at the top of this ferris wheel. The Coney Island kind. Old and creaky with half of the bulbs burned out. But all I could see was this mess of dark curls next to me, surrounded by all these flashing yellow lights. The muted kind where the lights are starting to die.

And there it was, catching in her hair, making it almost red. And she was laughing. Or crying. I could never see her face, just this mess of hair that fell into her laughing or crying, shaking cleavage. And she was wearing a dress, white enough to reflect all of the lights. No, absorbing all of the lights. She was this glowing, shaking, mess of hair. And we were above everything. Above the city, above the ocean, above all the ant people on the boardwalk. Just us, shaking in this rickety ferris wheel. And she would drum her fingers on the safety bar, the way she does when she’s thinking deeply. And all I could think was that I wanted to grab one of those shaking curls, to coil it around my finger, and use it to keep her with me, to keep her near me and never ever let go.

And then I woke up, with my fingers pressed into the skin of my ever faithful and loving girlfriend, whose face I could see clearly, every eyelash, every freckle, the little scar on her chin from falling off her bike when she was seven. But I didn’t feel much. Don’t get me wrong, I care very much. Years of sharing a bed and a life with a person will do that to you. But I’ve never, in our time together, felt that carnal need to grab on to her and make her stay.

You’re asking, will I do it? Leave this person who shares my everyday life? For the mystery girl of my dreams? No, I’ll leave my love on that ferris wheel. Maybe next time she’ll tell me what it was that made her shake so beautifully.

3 weeks ago (1 note)