Touch me

I'm sad that the friendly man representing a Muslim association at the university wouldn't shake my hand.
I listened to his speech. He seemed nice. I had some doubts about his message, but we left on friendly terms.
When I left and bid him a good day and tried to shake his hand. He put it across his heart and mumbled that he couldn't shake my hand.
I had to get back to class, and walked away.
I don't dislike him, but feel confused. Should I make myself angry over this, or am I being a self-centred ass?

Dear February

I'm done with ye.

You make me want to eat cheese and hide, neither of which are at the top of my list of priorities right now.
You make me want to skip school and spend all morning changing my gmail colour scheme.
You make me want to call in sick and scrape old paint off the floor with a razor blade.

Spring. PLEASE!

You asked me where he was,

and I couldn't help but think:
you wish he were here instead of me. You prefer to be supervised by a man. To chat and gain experience with a man. To fraternize with a man.
You don't like the way I do things..or you prefer the way he does things? Or you don't like the fact that I'm a woman, or that I'm younger than you?

Good luck to you anyway,

love

liz

Cataloguing is Boring

What I learned: mouth closer to eyes=cuter. Mouth closer to fat part=cuter. Wide-set eyes=cuter. Smaller mouth=cuter.


Putting faces on avocadoes. Far superior to doing homework.