● vintage & indie blog ●
How to be my friend:

1. Understand that I don’t like being friends. I like being really good friends. If you are not willing to put forth effort into this friendship, I will not put forth effort either.

2. Contradicting with the statement above, I tend to forget or misunderstand how committed you are. Being an anxious person, I assume that everyone is just out there to get me or attack me.

3. Show me that you are not going to hurt me. Show me that you understand my mental disorder and show me that you’re willing to stand by me when I do break down.

4. Remember small details about me. I fall for that kind of stuff.

5. I really do enjoy long talks and/or deep conversations. Small talk scares me and it makes my skin itch.

6. I honestly don’t say much. I have nothing to talk about really. But if you do, that’s perfect. I will chime in with my two cents here and there.

7. If I do talk a storm, congrats, that means I trust you wholly.

8. Once getting close to me, please maintain it. If you just disappear, I will take it that you don’t want to be a part of my life anymore. This separation honestly scares me.

More tips: I like adventures. I may be scared as hell, but if you have a plan for that day, I’m willing to go too.

Have a conversation about my anxiety. Who knows, you may save me from going to the hospital.

Last tip: I love ever so deeply and quickly. That is why I have so many walls.

Em ♥


do you ever just smell an old perfume, or hear an old song, or pass an old hangout spot and kinda break inside for a couple minutes

(via speeeding)








glow blog ^.^



Glow x

☾ glowish☽



THE FUCK GUYS. I just like this photo. What’s with the categorization? I remember when Tumblr was about meeting people and supporting people, not meeting people and asking them to support you. Like no. I know I fell into this phase but hey, we grow up sometimes.








I need feminism because most men’s restrooms still aren’t equipped with baby changing stations. As someone who was married to a man who had sole custody of his young son, I’m hyperaware that feminism means EQUALITY, not female superiority. Feminism should and does support a man’s right to be as much of a parent to his child(ren) as any mother is allowed/expected to be.

This is a constant problem for Mr. Tea and myself. We’ve got twins, so even though I can change one kid on the change table in the ladies’ room, he’s left standing sort of awkwardly in the lobby with a messy child while I change one, come back, and get the other.

Nobody’s suggesting that men aren’t parents, so the lack of change tables goes well beyond ‘gender role reinforcing’ and straight into ‘ridiculous’.

My dad actually almost got kicked out of a mall once for changing my brother in the womens room of a mall. The only reason they didn’t call the cops on him was because the ladies in the room supported him.

I’d never even considered this but I support it

I have seriously always wondered about this. I mean, most malls and such here have “family” rest rooms with change tables but I mean I have watched many a father bring his child out to the car to change because they don’t have rest room access. I am SO glad this is a post!!

Some have microwaves in them to heat your popcorn before a movie

(via ruinedchildhood)

justbonny said: hey do you want to check out my blog? you look extra cute in your icon ♥

Haha thanks (: 

WOAH. I love your Tumblr. I followed c: 

(Source: murdalinmurda, via poisonisley)





My 7 year old son was shot down by his 1st grade teacher

The american public education system in a nutshell tho

My third grade teacher actually had a conversation with my mom that I was reading to well and told her to stop having me read at home

My first grade teacher said that it was problematic that I was reading ahead of the rest of the kids in my grade and asked my parents to stop letting me read Harry Potter.
My fourth grade teacher thought it was wrong for my dad to be teaching me complex math because it fascinated me.
My elementary school music teacher hated the way my piano teacher taught me, and how I was more advanced than many of her students, and so told me, in front of my peers and my mother, that I was not good enough to participate in the state solo festival. She would not give me the form. We had to procure it from the district instead. She also hated how I excelled at reading and playing music for the recorder, and so she refused to give me my “belts” (colored beads to signify our level) and humiliated me in front of the class repeatedly.
My eighth grade algebra teacher used to fail me on take home tests because I didn’t solve problems exactly the way she showed us in class; I used methods that we had learned for other types of problems that also applied to these. She took points off my tests because I didn’t bring a calculator even though I got 100% without it, because I was able to do it by hand. I had to call my father, who is an engineer, down to the school to shout her down and give me back my A in the class.
My 10th grade Spanish teacher yelled at me in front of the class numerous times because she didn’t like the way I took notes; she thought that since I didn’t write every word off the slide, I wasn’t getting it all down. I had to explain to her that people who have taken advanced courses, like AP or IB classes, know that in a fast-paced learning environment you need to take quick shorthand notes that contain the necessary information rather than wasting time writing every word. She almost gave me detention.
My 11th grade English teacher gave me a poor mark on my first short essay because she believed that I was looking up unnecessarily complex words in a thesaurus to try and get better marks. The phrases in question: “laced with expletives” and “bombarded”. She wouldn’t hear any defense from me.
My 11th grade history teacher failed me on an essay about the 1950s because I misread the prompt. Except the prompt wasn’t words; it was a political cartoon. One of the figures was clearly president Eisenhower, but the other I couldn’t place. My teacher would not tell us who it was. I labelled him as the governor of Little Rock Arkansas during the integration period, and wrote an essay about that subject. My teacher said that no, it was Joseph McCarthy, and that there was a small picture of the man in our textbook and therefore I should have recognized him instantly. Half the class, apparently, did not.
The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.

Let’s remember that all teachers were once students and so they were probably only exposed to the most common teaching style, authoritative, which is branched from Idealism. The philosophy of idealism is to basically mold the student to survive society. (Is everyone following me?) Schools are now only focused on how the student acts rather then how challenged they are mentally.These kids grow up, go to college, and become teachers. From what I understand and witnessed, teachers nowadays teach with the same strategies as back then — lecture, tests, little to no group work and it’s killing the students. As a future teacher teaching in the light of an existentialist, I believe that as a person, we understand the world is our own light and in our own eyes. I see that teaching should be to enlighten the student in understanding themselves so they can learn how to understand greater things like death, life, and the flipping flow of water. If teachers took the time to see how a person learns rather then what they should learn, they will get so far in the classroom and with the students themselves. The kids will want to go to school. The kids will want to learn. We, teachers, would probably be looking at a classroom of Ghandi’s and Malala Yousafzai’s. Students understand how much it is worth to live on the planet. But unfortunately, hearing stores like above is telling me that teachers are abusing their powers and it’s killing me.