i love you, secondhand sections in bookstores. i love you, library book sales. i love you, free little libraries. i love you, shelves of books at coffee shops. i love you, town wide book sales. i love you, school book fairs. i love you, stacks of free books in offices.
btw its always morally correct to reblog your own art or writing onto the dash. you are always right to do this. and if people get annoyed then too bad. this is not a satire post or sarcastic this is genuine. reblog your works. and every time someone complains that you reblog your own stuff too much do it again. be proud of what you create.
I pretty much grew up in a funeral home and I have so many stories.
Here are a few of them:
One time we had hired a new funeral director, and we ran out of holy water so he ran up to my dad so panicked and asked how we could order some before the funeral that afternoon. My dad told him to “Boil the hell out of it”. We thought he would laugh but he spent the next hour boiling water on the stove.
One time my dad was driving the hearse to a funeral and the council hadn’t dug the plot, like they full on forgot to dig a hole for a funeral. He rang up my mum crying because it was so stressful and mum honestly though him shouting “I lost the plot” was a joke.
My brother and I use to play hide and seek at a graveyard and we almost fell in open plots a few time. We would steal peoples flowers until mum told us the importance of flowers. After that I would pick flowers from the bushes and give them to every grave without them because I felt so bad for them.
When we would go driving we would always keep an eye out for parks with roses so we could come back later and “borrow” the rose petals so we didn’t have to pay for them.
Mum has heard “you raise me up” and “Amazing grace” so many times shes told us if we play them at her funeral she will straight up haunt us.
Discussions about what we wanted at our funerals have been a normal part of our lives since we were tiny. Every year each one of us would give mum and dad a detailed description of our funeral, kind of like a morbid letter to Santa.
So many people died from car accidents and mum and dad discussed funerals all the time I became so phobic of driving I would have a panic attack when ever I got in the front seat.
When I was about 10 I would steal all the fake crosses for coffins and give them to people at school.
When I was 14 I really wanted to be a mortician so mum said I was allowed to come in and help prep a body for a funeral. I went in all gloved up and pulled back the sheet on the body and it was the ACTUAL mortician and he sat up and screamed at me. I died a little inside that day.
In the back room there was a fridge for the workers and it mostly had coke but once it had a can of beer and I sculled it before I knew what it was….I was 11.
Once my brothers and I hid in the coffin display room to scare my parents but they knew about it and shut the lids. Assholes.
When I was 13 i was obsessed with phantom of the opera so I would play music on the organ in the viewing room in the dark, thought I was so edgy.
We have one of the only horse drawn hearses in the country so we were asked to bring it down for a historical reenactment in the oldest cemetery in the town. I got to wizz around an old cemetery on a horse drawn hearse with a top hat on. I made so many goths jealous. Was a good day.
I am so terrified of the idea of ghosts (I don’t believe in them) even though I grew up at a funeral home.
Once this person who thought ghosts were real asked my parents if they had had ghostly experiences and they laughed in her face. She was so offended that people who had spent most of there life around dead people didn’t have any proof ghosts were real.
No offense but the internet gives you the most wrong and fucked up idea of helping people because people get mad if you don’t care about disasters happening in 72 countries, meanwhile the people in real life that are doing the most good picked one VERY SPECIFIC thing to care about and care about it REALLY HARD
Walks up to a guy working on restoring a native tree species to his downtown “why aren’t you posting about grasses in Turkmenistan!”
The internet has taken a whole generation of bright, motivated, passionate young people who care and have big hearts and turned them into paralyzed, shattered wrecks too crushed by the weight of the world’s pain to hand a pair of socks to a person in need
People are small. An individual can only do so much.
Pick a project in your corner of the world. Do your best on it.
What an eventful weekend omg- the sheer amount of people I saw in person these last two days is probably more than all the people i saw in the past few months. Saturday I took over moderating part of an event for someone who called out sick + later I ate a burger. Then today I saw every single relative I have in America after a long time. 10/10 weekend in terms of using up all my energy ✨
I just want to read a few books per week, learn multiple languages, and a couple of instruments, become more proficient at advanced mathematics, write essays and books, exercise regularly, sleep eight hours per night, eat really healthily, have an active social life including enjoying all of my close relationships, and be really sexy. Is that really so unreasonable
You can always edit it later, so don’t stress over every word you write. Just allow your creativity to flow. Writing is about discovering your story. Editing is about polishing your story.
