I’m no longer fucking ugly men. Unless you ignite a fire in my gut, a storm in my panties, the conversation is over. You’re not allowed to “grow on me.”Read More
The title is so relevant to our current sentiment, but this is a TV show I found on Netflix. Produced in the UK, and adopted from a graphic novel of the same name, the show is about two teens who run off together. Girl likes boy. Boy wants to kill girl. It’s dark and twisted and quite funny at times. Read More
I’m so disillusioned with porn. Read More
I just finished You. The second season seemed to take a slow start, so I turned it off mid way through the first episode. Read More
Having attended a play party that gave me a peek into the lifestyle I’ve hungered for, yesterday I found myself wondering what’s next? Read More
My aim is to no longer dream of my own destruction, for when I do I live in fear. And to live in fear is to stand still at the bottom of a Ferris wheel during a blood moon festival. To live in fear is to stand still at a November carnival. They come and go these opportunities to move. Yet year upon year I stay planted.
The media is hyper-focused on creating fear, uncertainty, and doubt about what Brett Kavanaugh’s appointment could mean for Roe v. Wade and abortion rights. According to their narrative, women are fucked.
In a culture of overconsumption where you’re constantly the target of ads being slung at you like piss in prison, Minimalism seems to be the perfect antidote for quelling our consumptive urges. But is Minimalism a realistic end, or just a fantasy that grips our attention until we buy into the next best thing? The Minimalist documentary and The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up book seemed like good places to find answers.