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bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it : bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
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lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … : Cood Caerings Colaring in the lines: Colors make Sense: No white Spaces: CEZAN EI ashabl Markers C) lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy …

lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” though...

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Swofehuper He Man Male Manson: HE WO MAN FE MALE HU MAN PER SON visual-poetry »swofehuperx by richard tipping (+) [vial mitosisisyourtosis men fabricated the idea that they are the default sex to compensate for their biological inferiority and general superfluousness this is not just the natural order this is the language of a patriarchal culture rhysiare Omg no, you are wrong on so many levels and as a linguist this makes me ache something terrible. In my linguistics dass in undergrad, we actually made fun of people who think like you along these lines and for good reason, because you are wholly ignorant and are choosing to spin narratives about things and fields which you know completely nothing about yet pretend you do. 1 She: This word evolved naturally from Old English from seo/heo which were just words to refer to feminine-female people evolving from Proto- Germanic words meaning that/there. He as a word evolved from the same ideas but Proto-Germanic words for thishere, Your idea of patriarchal language further falls apart when you compare this part of English to other Germanic languages, of which English is related, the words in German for he and she are 'er and sie", completely unrelated So it is by clear happenstance, not some patriarchal conspiracy that the words he and "she in English have similar form. 2. Woman: Oh god this one always gets my goat when people go for this one. Man did not used to mean "male", man used to mean humanity/human being, the old words in Old English for male adult person and female adult person were werman and wifman respectively, we can see this relation in words like werewolf and wife as being the remnants of the base "wer- and the base wif-. Woman evolved phonologically from the word wifman by natural processes where the 'f sound dropped and the became lax. Man dropped its wer stem for reasons mostly unknown but I can guarantee have nothing to do with patriarchy because phonological change has no basis in that. 3. Female: Male and Female actually come etymologically from two completely different words. Male comes from Old French masle which meant masculine, while Female came from Old French as well femella which meant young woman. This is another case, just like he and she where the words coincidentally ended up looking similar without having any direct correlation in historical linguistic processes to make them as such 4 Hman: This word etymologically derives from Proto-Indo- European "ghomon which means earthly being as opposed to heavenly being which would refer to gods. You have some small glimmer of hope here in that the word does eventually branch off into the word for man in some languages but this is still too small of a precedent to base any conspiratorial thinking like you are doing off of 5. Person: This one offends me the most, simply because I love the fuck out of Etruscan language and your continued ignorance just irks me at this point. Person derives from persona from Latin which meant the same meaning, which ultimately derived from phersu Etruscan for mask as Etruscans would often have theatre performers use masks to give identity to the performers. So never once did "person have any meaning to do with son So yes, this IS the natural order or language. Please never proselytise your faulty ideology and misandrist thinking within speaking about word origins and morphology again, as unless you actually do fact checking I will school the everloving hell out of you, stay in vour lane. Swofehuper He Man Male Manson
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College Vampires: PIRITS bookhobbit why is "olde vampires in high school" the big thing and not "olde vampires in college" everyone in college is eccentric. everyone you wanna wear full on Victorian suit? the girl in pajamas who clearly hasn't slept in three days supports you everyone is too preoccupied to care as long as you're polite and follow class etiquette multiple high school diplomas? eh. same stuff. multiple BAs? Enjoy learning chemistry AND art history! All in detail! wandering around campus at 3am? that's just the lifestyle tm * no matter how old or young you look it's not really that weird, there's sixteen year olds and sixty year olds doing BAs somewhere big schools are very anonymous so nobody's gonna bother to hassle you * anorthernskyatdawn the girl in pyjamas is the vampire themauvesoul Also: If u put ur blood in a water bottle ppl will assume it's juice and be Jealous "Oh god I'm a monster" 20 students who r all procrastinating big projects say "same simultaniousely and with the exact same tone Everything is a joke so if u say "I subsist on the lifeblood of mankind" someone will go "lol what a mood* It would take u like 100 years to major in everything Seen sucking the blood of a fellow classmate and u r instantly the campus Cryptid and Mascoft Listen. If u have an ethical dilemma go find a philosophy major that believes in ethical subjectivism and they'll make u so angry u forget abt whatever the fuck was bothering u College is the only acceptable place to get into fistfights over classical literature * e * iterally all u need to do to avoid suspicion is be the guy that alway:s has qum and a stapler If u have a majestic mustache ppl will just assume ur an English major Allergic to crosses? Cool. So r certain stem majors. e * College Vampires
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