Playing guitar with a group of guys for a frosh week event:

Me: *suggests cool thing*

Them: Yeah whatever

Other guy: *suggests same thing*

Them: We should definitely do that, good idea!

The micro-misogyny is alive and well at uni. So far though none of the chants are super offensive or misogynistic like I worried they’d be. I mean, I shouldn’t have to be like “thank god there aren’t any anti-women chants” because that should be a given but other universities in my province are known for having the most awful chants so I’m glad I haven’t heard of it happening here yet. 

It’s the second night of uni and the people next door are already being obnoxiously loud and quiet hours have begun. I think people ditch their common courtesy when they arrive, I swear to God. (I don’t mind people partying but it’s fucking inconsiderate to do it when your neighbors are next door trying to sleep and quiet hours have begun).

sextarian:

if a guy calls you hot, he’s complimenting your body.

if a guy calls you cute, he’s complimenting your face.

but if a guy calls you shrexy, he’s complimenting each and every one of your layers

Many women, I think, resist feminism because it is an agony to be fully conscious of the brutal misogyny which permeates culture, society, and all personal relationships.
Andrea Dworkin, Our Blood: Prophecies and Discourses on Sexual Politics (via michaelderr)
Even if you know what’s coming, you’re never prepared for how it feels.
― Natalie Standiford, How to Say Goodbye in Robot (via larmoyante)

I had a better time at Day 2 of frosh week. Our schedule was a little less jam-packed and we had more options to do what we want. Don’t get me wrong a lot of the planned activities are fun, but I really value my free time and it was making me sadder that I didn’t have time to skype my parents. One of my friends came up to my dorm and we talked for like an hour which was really nice because she’s lovely, and I’m going out to a movie night with another friend in a bit too. It’s definitely making me feel better that I have friends, and especially that I have friends who are just as homesick as me. 

Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else, but just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.

The Winter of the Air  (via fuckinq)

Well shit. It’s not just me.

(via booksfor-breakfast)