good god, y'all

Sara. 24. Copenhagen. I like lots of stuff.



1. what color are your character’s underpants? if your character doesn’t wear underpants, when and why did they turn away from the light of the lord?

2. how does your character’s “that one uncle” feel about the federal reserve?

3. as your character, write a myspace blog entry from 2006

4. what kind of fucked up old person medicine did your character’s grandma always give them instead of candy?

5. is your character a cat person or a dog person or just a regular normal human person?

6. how does your character react to farts? from friends? from strangers? from their own butts?

7. how would your character react if, while they were going through some old photos in a beautiful album in the attic, they found a picture of somebody in a medieval plague doctor mask with a HUMONGOUS boner? somebody with the same belly button tattoo as their dad???

8. celeb crush!!! (1499-1999 celebs only)

9. using the formula 1ST PET’S NAME+3RD STREET LIVED ON+FAVORITE MEAT, what is your character’s soap opera name and favorite meat?

10. freewrite: 500 words on the confrontation between your character and the lady at red lobster who questioned their right to jam 8 cheddar bay biscuits in their pockets for later


The Modern Monk.

The pictures are from our workshop at school with Marcus Bleasdale. I wanted to document the everyday life of Brother Haavar Simon. He’s a part of the Dominican Brothers in Oslo. I learned so much after following him for a week straight! 

All photos are copyrighted Sara Nordby.

my mom’s new thing is to say “well you’re the one who controls what you perceive and what you hear” when she says something really fucking stupid and i disagree with her

and at first i was like “hmm maybe she’s right” but i only had to hear it like 2 more times before i was like “wait hold the fuck up that is problematic as fuck”

because if you’re putting all the responsibility for what you put into the world via your speech on the shouldesr of the one you’re speaking to, guess what you’ve just waved bye-bye to? that’s right, responsibility for your own speech and your own actions and that is fucked all to hell 

if things worked like that (they don’t) you could literally say anything, then when people are like “no???? hella no???” you might just lean back, cross your arms and go “well that’s on you, you control how you react to it” and that is a fucked up way of interacting with the world

and next time she tells me it’s on me to moderate my behaviour concerning her words, i’m gonna tell her that. and if she doesn’t get it, i’m gonna keep telling her so, until she does, because i can’t deal with my mom being too thickheaded to realise that

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