Because teenagers need eight to nine hours of sleep, waking up at 6 a.m. can lead to a pattern of sleep deprivation. And that puts them at higher risk of a whole range of potential problems, from depression to automobile accidents. Now, some parents are pushing for later school day start times.
If you had to get up at bloody 6AM every day and work for 10+ hours, you’d be damn depressed too.
I am the Semi-Institutionalized Schizophrenic On Permanent Disability. I wield a Sonic Starbucks Coffee Stopper Doohickey, and my catchphrase is “I don’t need any more but if you want one for the Kraken…”
Yeah, that about covers it.
I am The Carnie. I have a sonic Maine Coon, and my catchphrase is “What’s the sitch?”
I am a fanfic cliche.
I am The Arts Administrator. I wield a Sonic Fork and my catchphrase is, “I’ll pick it up when I’m back on Thursday.”
I am the Tow Truck Driver. I’m never caught without my Sonic Diary. My catchphrase is “We’ve landed safely in Minnesota!”
I am The Actuary, who wields a Sonic Lamp. Sidekick, “I’m so glad for you.” THIS time….
I made this comic entirely on computer, to see if I could! I guess I can? Neat!
Hey, don’t be an asshole! When you reblog a piece of art and write “ugh I can’t believe this idiot, I hate this so much,” the person who made it sees that. Would you enjoy waking up to that every day? I don’t think so.
'I think about your thighs,' he wrote in the second letter, 'and the warm, moist smell of your skin in the morning, and the tiny eyelash in each corner of your eye that I always notice when you first roll over to look at me. I don’t know why you are better and more beautiful than anybody else. I don’t know why your body is something I can’t stop thinking about, why those little flaws and ridges on your back are lovely to me or why the pale soft bottoms of your New Jersey feet that always wore shoes are more poignant than any other feet, but they are. I thought I would have more time to chart your body, to map its poles, its contours and terrains, its inner regions, both temperate and torrid - a whole topography of skin and muscle and bone. I didn’t tell you, but I imagined a lifetime as your cartographer, years of exploration and discovery that would keep changing the look of my map. It would always need to be redrawn and reconfigured to keep up with you. I’m sure I’ve missed things, Bill, or forgotten them, because half the time I’ve been wandering around your body blind drunk with happiness. There are still places I haven’t seen.'
The meanderings of a romantic, synesthete writer. From Iowa, to New York City, to Japan and who-knows-where-else more, this is just the journey of a little soul dreaming big. Welcome to the world as I see it.
Tags of interest may include:
New York Memories (NYM),