Academia - Blog Posts
new idea for a university on-campus bar. Put it in the sciences building and call it “Beer Review”
na bc this
Shameless and callous I love you.
Out of indifference I love you.
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
Robert Frost
I’m seeking for a sugar baby that would be loyal, honest and trustworthy whom i can share my thoughts and feelings with, whom i can rely on when I’m emotionally down and also keep me company as best friends. Nothing necessarily sexual, plus you get a weekly allowance of $1,000.
Good Morning I am raising fund's for a Field trip, Library books and poor families. Would you care to donate "?? If so please check out my fundraiser on my account. If not please consider donating towards President Biden campaign and other Democrats running for positions.
Please donate to local schools in your state. Thank you. G
Happy Friday..
Golden Retrievers are some of the smartest fur people,,I've ever known. I don't know the person cooling themselves in the pool,,but that looks rather inviting . 🔹🤔🔹
Remember I am still fundraising and writing as well. ✨ Reminder no Racist, Homophobic, Anti-Women's Anti-Immigrant ,Anti-Abortion,Anti-Animal rhetoric isn't welcomed at my page .
I tend to be open minded and tolerant to some views. I have zero patience for drama.
Until then ,,read a good book,, because it opens up your train of thought. 📚 Gigigisele
June 21,2024 5:33pm
A blogpost I wrote last year on such an underrated Irish writer!
i was born in the wrong era. i was supposed to live in the 80s. the 1880s. i was destined to be some rich, idle, ill-fated protagonist of a victorian gothic novel and smoke cigarettes and wear rich fabrics and carry a cane with a carved top and write long, rambling letters in an illegible font to some close friend i may or may not be utterly infatued by and drink red wine at lavish dinners every other night and discuss philosophy and hedonism and sprawl dramatically across chaise longues and and-
hot girls don't know their lefts and rights
i miss autumn. i miss short days and long nights. i miss the stars. i miss chunky scarves and knitted beanies and thick sweaters. i miss withered orange leaves underfoot. i miss lukewarm rain. i miss cold winds that smell of nature and death. i miss spending grey days reading classics by candle light. i miss herbal teas and bitter coffee. i miss the sting of ice in my fingers. i miss the harsh softness as the world slowly settles down and gets ready to die.
running away to some dilapidated georgian mansion in the moors to persure my writing career and slowly but surely gain a reputation in the nearby village as a potential witch, anyone wanna come?
why do i have to work. like why can't i live in a quaint cottage in the english moors with weather-worn bricks smothered in ivy and bake soft loaves of bread and gooseberry pies and wear bonnets and floaty blouses and carry a little wicker basket in the crook of my elbow and go blackberry picking in autumn and paddle ankle-deep in pebble-strewn streams and-
inside you are two wolves. one is diet coke heart-shaped sunglasses vintage diners red nail polish lollipops soft ice-cream knee-high socks lipstick stains girl blogger. the other is black coffee rainy weather turtlenecks secret history notes app poetry hand-held vhs camera autumn cable-knit sweaters tote bag thrift stores chunky rings.
sometimes i wanna be red nails and cigarettes and cat-eye sunglasses, but then again i wanna be lipgloss and rose petals and lace, but at the same time i also like baggy sweaters and second-hand book stores and polaroids, but then i think about long scarves and fog and well-worn books, but then i see fingerless gloves and bruised knees and tangled jewellery, but also what about messy braids and daisy chains and knee-high grass, but then-
ink-stained fingers, crumpled sheets of unfinished poetry, withered roses, lipstick on the rim of a coffee cup, dark chocolate, forgotten gods, starless nights, red candles, bloody knees, ribbons in hair
feeling a little goofy, might take part in an ancient ritual in the middle of a forest with a group of insufferable greek students and accidentally kill a farmer whilst in a state of pure enlightenment, idk
in the land of faeries and elves....
even when the flame expires and the roses wilt, I will still love you: for death is only the beginning of new life
cashmere and forgotten love letters
pistachio academia
request of @jolivers-wonder 💚
blueberry academia
requested by @jolivers-wonder 💙🫐
chocolate academia
request of @jolivers-wonder 🤎🍫
strawberry academia
as per request of @jolivers-wonder ❤️🍓
open air bookstores and annotated pages
winter ever thrives in the academic spirit
"In short, they were gambling on their luck, and luck is not to be coerced."
- Albert Camus, The Plague
