It’s fun learning astrology until you start to make broad assumptions about real people’s behavior based only on their birthday.
It’s fun to speculate about alien civilization until you say early cultures weren’t competent enough to build their own pyramids or until scientologists stalk you for every penny you have.
It’s fun dressing symptoms in mystical language like “empath” or “indigo child” until you go through life undiagnosed, unaccomodated and feeling less and less human.
It’s all fun and games until Tiktokkers tell you hallucinations are actually attunement with a higher dimension and that you should stop taking your antipsychotics.
It’s fun to think about possession and changelings until mom starts trying to “save” her child’s soul or dad kills his family for having “serpent genes.”
It’s fun to see natural formations as if they were manmade until you start believing cultists when they say flying saucers are Antarctic Nazis.
You can believe in magic. It’s fun to believe in magic. Believing in magic is valuable stimulation. But watch out. Remember your reality checks. There’s a lot of cults and scams and white supremacists out there who want to sell you something, and that longing for magic to believe in is how they get you.
i love that specific ao3 phenomenon where you get a sudden influx of kudos on a work and it’s clear someone shared your fic but you have no idea who they are or where they shared it. it’s like being a dickensian orphan receiving money from a mysterious benefactor.
the funniest thing about being gay is the way that displays of heterosexuality inevitably age into homosexuality. the women’s parlour tea societies and pier-side strongmen of the 1900s. the patriotic rosie riveters and coiffed soldier boys of wartime. the A-line skirts and cat eye glasses and mutton chops and flares of the 70s. the camo minidresses and divine sisterhoods and lad on lad on lad culture of the 90s. it’s ours now. the bikers and the sailors and the flappers and the beat poets and the hippies and the ladies maids. you parody yourselves to escape from us and we eat it for breakfast forever and ever amen.
In 1944 a kitten named George (short for General Electric) was saved from drowning by a U.S. Navy crew member. George was then photographed and given a liberty card and detailed health record. Source.
hey, don’t cry. one cup heavy whipping cream, two tablespoons granulated sugar, three tablespoons cocoa powder and whisk until stiff peaks form for three ingredient chocolate mousse, okay?
i realized that i like the format because it’s the exact opposite of the recipe blogs with 1000 words before they get to an ingredient list.
“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”
— Vincent Van Gogh
“If I am worth anything later, I am worth
something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is a grass in
the beginning.”
the thing about abba is that they never feel tonally inappropriate even when they should
every time I imagine myself smeared across asphalt I think “would I be okay with this song being the soundtrack to my death?” and whenever it’s ABBA I don’t really have any objections
