Austra and Other Stuff

I'll break your heart, but I can't stay

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I’ve been studying for the same reasons I get drunk. To pass the time, to forget what’s bothering me. It doesn’t matter if I’m doing math, reading Dickens, or swallowing pills. Time disappears and I barely feel awake.

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I know a secret

When I was a kid, preteen, teen, I used to write stories. I wanted my dad to read them, so I’d give them to him to edit. He would take months and months to read them, even when he wasn’t particularly busy. I used to think it was because I wasn’t a priority, that whatever skill-set I had wasn’t as catchy or relatable to him as sports, which my sister did, and which he devoted his full attention to. 

It wasn’t that at all. If I had any talent, he would’ve 100% supported me. He writes screenplays, after all. After reflecting and growing up, I realize the real reason he probably didn’t want to deal with my writing was because he couldn’t face it. Why? Because it just wasn’t good. And he didn’t want to tell me. It was easier for him to pretend he couldn’t look at my work because he was busy than because he knew it was never going to go anywhere.

Just a first world haunt of a spoiled middle-class white-ish kid. It always sucks realizing you suck, and while writing can of course be improved by practice, arts are something you either have the potential for, or don’t. 

I think there is a serious problem with praising kids regardless of the actual quality of their work, and praising them as if they are intrinsically good at something, as opposed to hard working. Every North American college kid starts university thinking they are a little genius. Odds are, they’re not. Usually they’re average. Sometimes they’re less than average.

Do your kid a favour, and tell them, gently, that they’re just not that great. Even if they get an A+ on a science report. Even if they write a poem that manages to rhyme all the way through. A million other people can do the same, or better. I’m not saying kids should believe they’re not good at anything - they just need to understand they’re not special. I think it’s healthier in the long run.

Filed under spilled ink realizations at least my essays do okay writing university college reality

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… there are times where I’ll be singing “Lose It” or something and I’ll see people making out or whatever. But that’s kinda dangerous, because it actually makes me really emotional when I see stuff like that happening. When I can tell someone’s having, like, a real moment, I’ll just crack onstage. My eyes will well up while I’m singing, and inside I’m just thinking, ‘It’s so beautiful!

Katie Stelmanis of Austra

via rookiemag

(via michaelanthonynatale)

why didn’t i make out to austra when i had the chance?!

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At the end of the day, sometimes, I tell myself “it’s okay you fucked up everything today. Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow will be better. You’re 19. You still have lots of time to get it together. You have good days too.”

The problem is, I keep fucking up. There are less good days. There are more really terrible days.

I can’t go on like this forever. 

Filed under i'm sorry

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Her name would do. Jessica on my forearm, the part of the arm that holds. Well, maybe just a J. I stared at the soft whiteness of my arm and my imagination danced on the empty plane of my skin. I could almost see images living under the flesh, like my arm was dreaming. Water, volleyball, a soldier, a metal, a sleeping bird, a dead bird on my arm.
I pressed the pin against my skin. Cutting myself would change everything. The skin that held the dreams in would break open. Blood would only come in a trickle but something else would flood the room from wall to wall. Dream sludge. Truth and lies. Nothing that could be made sense of. Jessica, the body dreams. Don’t draw on the body, don’t make it speak your temporary thoughts.
Bett Williams, Girl Walking Backwards

Filed under girl walking backwards bett williams my favourite don't draw on the body don't make it speak your temporary thoughts tw trigger warning cutting

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autisticmerrill:

support butch lesbians

support flamboyant gay men

support polyamorous bisexuals and pansexuals

support sex-repulsed asexuals

don’t throw people under the bus because they “fit a stereotype” you deem negative that you try to distance yourself from

(via borednerd)

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Anonymous asked: I don't think there is a way to label it. Like maybe thats the problem more than anything, the human experience is so complex and everything is always changing. To me what's ultimately important is just feeling how you feel when you feel it, whatever came before or whatever is to come after isn't important until it happens... maybe. Life is just one big unanswerable question isn't it? Maybe?

yeah, that makes sense. I’m the kind of person that LOVES order, categories, classifying things. I’ve always been really fluid, but at the same time, I’d love to have some solid to tie to me, something I can hold, that won’t slip through my fingers. something I can attach a part of myself to and keep there. and most frustratingly, I want to be consistently legible to other people - even though I’m never entirely sure of myself. Hard to explain! But thank you :) (and sorry for typos blah i’m tired)