No Dicks Only Dreams
my friends call me jne
i like watching foreign films all hours of the night and pretending im not a loser

Formerly: Maefly, NapoleonBone-apart
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------------------------ Planet  Mars
starious' theme

the only thing i look forword to anymore is my school’s french fries

You know I really don’t get it. These kids work so hard, and instead of praise they are left with the last few scraps of a holiday dinner.

I’ve seen them out there at 5 in the morning and 10 at night. I’ve seen them on Halloween and Memorial Day. I’ve seen them running laps around the school because some sports team took the stadium from them when it was rightfully theirs, but instead of bitching about it they said “it’s time to get stronger”.

I’ve heard them talk about themselves. They really think they’re nothing special. They have heard what we all have to say about how easy what they do is. They use to shout in protest but soon realized we had already turned around to cheer on the ball game.

They speak in this secret language of fermatas and thirty second notes and dot books and subsets, but we seem to have translated the word crescendo into ‘worthless’.

I hear the football team talk about them. ‘I can’t believe the school gives them all that money, I mean they just come to play at our games!’ and I want to scream at the top of my very lungs that they do so much more than ride a bus and perform at half-time. I wanted to smash some sense into their heads. I want for just one second for everyone to see the stigma they had created.

But I wouldn’t. Who would listen? Who would stop to hear that every summer they wake up at 4 am and work until 11 pm to perfect 12 minutes? Who would stop to care that 100 kids struggle to wear their uniforms every year because they are falling apart at the seams, but the soccer team buys new ones every year?

Why is it that when 100 kids run across a field they earn respect, but when 100 kids run across a field with metal in their hands they earn malice and laughter?

Look at them. Look how amazing they are. Look how hard they work with what little they are given. Look at how they still take pride in the broken puzzle of a program the school board dishes out to them every year.

For God’s sake, just look at them.

(via littlewood-inthe-bigblue-surf)

My sister and brother were both in marching band for four years of gloriousness. My brother made field commander his senior year. And I’m proud to say that at our high school? Everyone knew how hard the band kids worked. They’ve made state championship finals for about 30-years running, and you know what? Half the stadium sometimes gets up and leaves after the halftime show, because that’s what they came to see.

(via archangelunmei)

(via mintofhint)

Aren’t oranges sliced in a factory and then put back in their peel?



the thing about living in australia is there’s always some weird animal making some fucked up noise outside your window

We’ve got that in England too but we call them chavs

(via slightly-bovverd)

its hot as fuck in my room and im starving and reeeeally want more of that chocolate bunny i have in the fridge but its also 3am and i feel like itd be loud to climb down open the fridge climb back up and mess with the foil wrapping but i want chocolate so bad