#WhitePeopleInvitedToTheCookout

The reason I like reading a book in one day is because I love watching people look at the size of the book in pure horror and then back at me like I just became terrifying in their eyes

Toad Words

            Frogs fall out of my mouth when I talk. Toads, too.

            It used to be a problem.

            There was an incident when I was young and cross and fed up parental expectations. My sister, who is the Good One, has gold fall from her lips, and since I could not be her, I had to go a different way.

            So I got frogs. It happens.

            “You’ll grow into it,” the fairy godmother said. “Some curses have cloth-of-gold linings.” She considered this, and her finger drifted to her lower lip, the way it did when she was forgetting things. “Mind you, some curses just grind you down and leave you broken. Some blessings do that too, though. Hmm. What was I saying?”

            I spent a lot of time not talking. I got a slate and wrote things down. It was hard at first, but I hated to drop the frogs in the middle of the road. They got hit by cars, or dried out, miles away from their damp little homes.

            Toads were easier. Toads are tough. After awhile, I learned to feel when a word was a toad and not a frog. I could roll the word around on my tongue and get the flavor before I spoke it. Toad words were drier. Desiccated is a toad word. So is crisp and crisis and obligation. So are elegant and matchstick.

            Frog words were a bit more varied. Murky. Purple. Swinging. Jazz.

I practiced in the field behind the house, speaking words over and over, sending small creatures hopping into the evening.  I learned to speak some words as either toads or frogs. It’s all in the delivery.

            Love is a frog word, if spoken earnestly, and a toad word if spoken sarcastically. Frogs are not good at sarcasm.

            Toads are masters of it.

            I learned one day that the amphibians are going extinct all over the world, that some of them are vanishing. You go to ponds that should be full of frogs and find them silent. There are a hundred things responsible—fungus and pesticides and acid rain.

            When I heard this, I cried “What!?” so loudly that an adult African bullfrog fell from my lips and I had to catch it. It weighed as much as a small cat. I took it to the pet store and spun them a lie in writing about my cousin going off to college and leaving the frog behind.

            I brooded about frogs for weeks after that, and then eventually, I decided to do something about it.

            I cannot fix the things that kill them. It would take an army of fairy godmothers, and mine retired long ago. Now she goes on long cruises and spreads her wings out across the deck chairs.

            But I can make more.

            I had to get a field guide at first. It was a long process. Say a word and catch it, check the field marks. Most words turn to bronze frogs if I am not paying attention.

            Poison arrow frogs make my lips go numb. I can only do a few of those a day. I go through a lot of chapstick.  

            It is a holding action I am fighting, nothing more. I go to vernal pools and whisper sonnets that turn into wood frogs. I say the words squeak and squill and spring peepers skitter away into the trees. They begin singing almost the moment they emerge.

            I read long legal documents to a growing audience of Fowler’s toads, who blink their goggling eyes up at me. (I wish I could do salamanders. I would read Clive Barker novels aloud and seed the streams with efts and hellbenders. I would fly to Mexico and read love poems in another language to restore the axolotl. Alas, it’s frogs and toads and nothing more. We make do.)

            The woods behind my house are full of singing. The neighbors either learn to love it or move away.

            My sister—the one who speaks gold and diamonds—funds my travels. She speaks less than I do, but for me and my amphibian friends, she will vomit rubies and sapphires. I am grateful.

            I am practicing reading modernist revolutionary poetry aloud. My accent is atrocious. Still, a day will come when the Panamanian golden frog will tumble from my lips, and I will catch it and hold it, and whatever word I spoke, I’ll say again and again, until I stand at the center of a sea of yellow skins, and make from my curse at last a cloth of gold.

Terri Windling posted recently about the old fairy tale of frogs falling from a girl’s lips, and I started thinking about what I’d do if that happened to me, and…well…

i could not feel just how much you like me as i do you

it's pitiful and heartbreaking

and i know this is not going to end well

like every other

(via Saturday Morning Cartoons: Baopu #15) by Yao Xiao

words to remember

me: has friend

me: expresses affection

me: Welp I'm Creepy They Hate Me Now

world record for most cans opened in 3 seconds

10 Steps to Reaching your Full Academic Potential

Always get feedback, whether that be on essays, exams, homework or your general performance. In all cases, especially those where you can’t obtain formal feedback {i.e. from receiving a graded essay or test back}, arrange to meet with your tutor to discuss your progress.

Study efficiently. Pay attention to when you study best {morning or night?} and where you study best. Work on a schedule that falls around that. When you study, give it 100% and don’t give in to menial tasks {such as checking social media} that will break your concentration. Do this on a planned break.

Form good habits. Get roughly the same amount of sleep each night from the same hour at night to the same hour in the morning, if you can. Drink plenty of water. Like I said, take breaks. Study daily, even for a short amount of time if that is all you have.

Set yourself deadlines and stick to them. If you can, start your homework/assignments as soon as you get them, and if they’re longer ones, set goals along the way. 

Fail to plan, plan to fail. A teacher once told me that, and it resonates in my mind even ten years on. It is not wise to write an essay or assignment in your head as you go along. Give yourself a structure and brainstorm ideas, no matter how brief or comprehensive this is.

Study actively. Don’t write and rewrite notes over and over. Get the information in to your long term memory through active recall {testing yourself}, making visual aids {mind maps/diagrams} and teaching others.

Anticipate a certain degree of disappointment somewhere along the way. Even the brightest minds will falter, and understandably, this might knock your confidence or your motivation. Allow yourself to build on those errors in time for your next assessment - let that motivate you. Making mistakes is inevitable, but not making the same mistake twice is key.

Enjoy what you do. Take classes that interest you, and aim to develop a knowledge of that subject which is well-rounded and comprehensive. Taking the extra steps to immersing yourself in your studies will not only make the process easier, but you’ll gain motivation through your inquisitiveness and desire to learn.

Treat your studies like a full time job - that is what they equate to in most cases. Take breaks and know your limits, but remember that if your input is minimal then your output will be too. Resist that urge we all know too well, and don’t shy away from your education.

Don’t succumb to the pressures of studying in the same ways as other people. We are all individuals, and what works for one is not forced to work for another. Experiment with different aspects of your learning experience to find what works for you. If you’re not a morning person, that’s okay. If colour coding feels pointless to you, that’s okay too. As long as you are making progress and you are reflecting on your studies then you’re doing just fine.

The Mystical Origins of Fruit and Vegetables Photographed by Maciek Jasik

Hale told me to give her three random words and she’ll do her best to improvise a song based on them, then this happened.