fishing in the tall grass
fishing in the tall grass
This is what I hold inside.
When I get home from work and open a bottle of wine



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just a small town girl. Living in a racist, insensitive, sexist, homophobic world,

(cant take the midnight train ‘cause im fuckin scared)

(Source: princetanaka, via thatisntanything)

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I’m in my office. It’s 5:34PM.

There is so much I could write about today. Always, always this is the story. Today I actually said to a student, “Sam, don’t be a dickwad, okay?” 

Sam is about seven years old. This isn’t America and I’m off topic.

What I want to say is… I was google searching for pictures of my new school in China when I came across an author biography for the guy who hired me, the guy I’ve had a crush on ever since our two-hour skype interview where we told me that he’d put my resume in the top two out of seventy. 

I need to hide this tumblr immediately after I post this. 

There’s no lit people in my office right now; so I can’t gush about the intellectual crush I have on this guy who has both prose and poetry published. AND HIS PROSE LOOKS GOOD. I’ve just read the introduction and what he says about it.. And I love it.

I just, I want to die from excitement. And I want to forget about it, too, all at once. I want to not find out any more because I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to meet him; I do want to meet him. I want him to forever exist in that dreamworld where I use to house ideas and dreams and what-could-people-be-like thoughts. 

I want him to stay far away, as far away as that China-dreamworld because everyone seems to shatter in this reality. 

That, the shattering, is the fundamental problem of travel, of discovery, of adultlife in general. 

I have a dinner tonight with a dear friend. And I’m supposed to be packing. But something tells me I’ll be downloading a pdf. instead…. 

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Twitter / TheAcademy: Genie, you're free. ...
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So You’ve Read the Novel. But Do You Know What Anna Karenina Looks Like?
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How will I ever get my married friends to understand that the goal of my life isn’t to get married?  

I’m not incomplete. I’m not unhappy. 

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When my mom reminds me again that I’m single



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Going to a disappointing brunch when I’m hungover



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