I know that it’s kind of quick, but does anyone in the pittsburgh area (specifically in the north hills or oakland) know of/have a job opening that might be safe for a trans girl?
Since my parents have been entirely unsupportive and deaf to my struggles as a trans girl, I’m currently going to fail this semester (most of my classes at least) and be placed on academic suspension. I can get into the details in another post, but yeah. So thankfully for me my parents won’t kick me out of the house, but they have called into question what would happen to the apartment that I have leased for next year (whether or not they would pay it / if they would terminate the lease). For that reason, I need a job badly so that I can provide for myself for at least the next 6 months. Since I am single and do not need much, I estimate that I’ll need to make around $1.3 - 1.7K a month, $700 of which will go to rent and utilities, and the rest to cover living expenses. I have applied for summer jobs, but have not received any responses. I have skills in chemistry and can tutor, which would be preferred. (Seriously if anyone needs a tutor and lives within the area of the port authority buses I can make that happen for cheap).
If you have an opening or know of one, please drop me an ask. Either way, please signal boost!
Thanks so much for your time!
I know most people who follow me aren’t in the right area for this, but if you are, please help.
See, the problem with really enoying my first Discworld novel so far is knowing that I will have to buy and read the other four billion.
That’s extremely inconvenient.
NOT A PROBLEM
YOU ARE DOING THIS RIGHT
- People who actually care about what they are doing with their lives
- Happy, fulfilled people
Have you noticed that the people who care tend not to be happy, and those who don’t care take it easy and enjoy themselves?
Aka the world is a shitty place if you’re a decent human being. Congratulations. Welcome to the club.
god fucking dammit what if he’s the only one what if that’s all i get and it was shitty, two weeks of “no commitment” and a full month depressed and suicidal, that’s it, that’s the closed thing you’ll ever get to being loved, he gets to pick and choose and guess what, he didn’t choose you, why would he?
that’s probably what will happen, that’s what all evidence points to, all the data, i’m strange and small and drab and somehow not enough, not right, never what i’m supposed to be and i don’t know how to be different and i’m not sure that i could even if i did.
22-25-30-40-50-60-80-however long i last, still sleeping in a twin bed with a stuffed hedgehog so i have something to hug until i fall asleep, tears and Special Effects Blood Red and mascara staining all my pillowcases.
still dreaming that something might go differently, that just around the corner there might be someone who cares, who makes an effort, they don’t even have to understand, really, but trying to would be nice, not walking over who i am and what i feel and what is huge to me (everything all of it it all wants to eat me alive too much to see and feel and say and hear and never enough places to hide) but also knowing that it isn’t going to happen.
which makes the hoping so much worse
Please reblog if you identify as asexual, grey-asexual or demisexual
If you are NOT asexual, grey-asexual, or demisexual but still believe it is a legitimate sexuality reblog THIS post
I’m preparing to come out to my parents
I wish you luck….. to this day it’s the only thing my mom and I disagree on.
But I realized this morning—-
I am completely analog. I come from a digital place, live in a digital place, work in a field that involves photomultiplier tubes and nuclear magnetic resonance and spectrophotometry and fourier transforms but…. in then end….. I am analog.
I think robots are beautiful and fascinating. Mathematica makes my life easier. MestReNova tells me that my synthesis was successful in a way that still astonishes me, that we have been intelligent enough to see molecules. But give me a piece of wood any day. Give me a sheep’s fleece. Give me a paintbrush and a canvas and smelly, oily, inconvenient paint. Give me charcoal that makes a mess of your hands and proves that you’ve done something.
Give me a book, with pages that stick together and cling to your hands with that rough slight rasp to them.
I have never seen a piece of wood that did not have the possibility of beauty. It lingers inside, somewhere, and I just have to set it free. It’s not a piece of aluminium, that is hard and sharp and uniform. I have to work with it, with the grain and the tear-out and the figure and the voids and the proof that this hard, solid thing is not actually so solid, has character, once had life.
My pleasures are slow and old and calm and wild. They run deep as the surface of the sea on a calm day and are just as predictable, just as tame, just as soft. Your shrill human ecstasies scare me instead of drawing me. I do not drink, I do not smoke, I do not fuck,it’s just…. not necessary. Why would I? There is so much more available in the world, if you are open to it. You can do what you like, maybe even with me, but there is little draw for me. If there is in the future, if I find someone who makes me glow again— fine. I am open to what comes, to what may be, to feeling like I glow and burn and have nothing to me but pure, straight joy. But I have no drive to search for it— I wouldn’t know how even if I wanted to, no urge to touch just for the sensation of it, no point in drinking to see the world differently— how could it possibly be more than it is? Have you looked around you recently?
I sat on a rock by a stream in a gully in a park in a city on a day just a tad bit too chilly to be comfortable, when the sun shone bright and harsh after a long, long winter of snow and clouds and grey. I opened myself to the world and shut my thoughts down and… was. It was large and small and open and beautiful and terrifying and I realized—- all this time, I have been looking for zazen. I find it in my sheep’s fleece, in my dancing, in my yoga, my bowls and my illuminated manuscript, my bonsai and my loom and my photographic darkroom and even in my fume hood. There is no greater delight than to be open to the world and have it flow into you and fill you.
I thought you felt the same. I thought I could share with you the awe I find in the smallest things, because in the end, they hold the same beauty as our only universe but it is surprising in the sunlight on a leaf and not in the vast expanse of the night sky.
I guess you didn’t want that. I guess the small ecstasies have, for now, taken you. Maybe you were too young. Maybe you were too old. Maybe you were too tempted. I don’t know.
But I have found my center again and it is stronger than it was before. It is as old as sequoia roots and young as a methoxylate radical and as extraordinary as both.
There is no need for waiting. There is no need for anything other than living, even a small simple life, though it seems dull and slow and lost in this world of flashing lights and snapchat and the rosy glow of instagram. Nothing in my life is worth memorializing because everything is. Why would I select that moment above another when all are equally good, equally beautiful?
I will live, and you can learn. Or not. It is up to you. I am finding what I am searching for.
Gender and Sexuality Studies:
Computer Science and Engineering:
Choaked at Theater