My field is a solid split between academia and hard manual labor. This has led to me realizing how much I actually enjoy working out when the activity has specific practical applications. And out of spite. As a disabled vegoon. I will hike 10 miles collecting data tomorrow goodbye. 🚬🐺
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I’m so fuckign SOGGY. Mud in my cuts and leaves in my pockets. Normal day but sitting in class with wet socks is a bit annoying. I need to start bringing a change of clothes regardless of what the weather says. 🚬🐺
I have to be up at 5:30 am for some vegetation mapping tomorrow followed by a calculus test but I assure you there is a reasonable likelihood I’ll post art (and if not, it’ll be on the weekend).
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This freshman saw me drawing Eridan when we finished lab early and she asked me “what’s that from” and I didn’t have it in me to explain Homestuck so I just said it was an oc. 🚬🐺
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I have to be up at 5:30 am for some vegetation mapping tomorrow followed by a calculus test but I assure you there is a reasonable likelihood I’ll post art (and if not, it’ll be on the weekend).
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Flipping my arms palm up and palm down, admiring my summer countershading.
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Sugar daddy to my friends but wandering ascetic when it comes to my own basic needs. 😵💫
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I just want to send somebody one of my 20,000+ animal and plant and fungus etc photographs once in a while and that should be the extent of my online activities.
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I have got to work out more. 🚬🐺
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In my experience, art has never been a matter of wanting or not wanting to pursue artisthood, trying or not trying to create. Simply put, I am plagued by neverending visions and I need to extract them from my brain as soon as humanly possible or they will consume me.
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Baby Reindeer is a masterpiece. Anyone who can handle the content should watch it. These stories need to be told.
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My lore is unlike anything you people can imagine. My internet friend group was harassed and cyberstalked for almost a decade on an obscure campy queer furry MMORPG by a violently racist teenage ancap incel millionaire wolfaboo who lived in his parents’ mansion in Mauritius and bragged constantly about going to Harvard (extension school).
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I cater to the small subset of boys who were transed via Jane Austen and Brontë sisters novels.
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