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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 10 hours
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 13 hours
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 13 hours
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literally my favorite type of tweet
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 13 hours
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 13 hours
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 13 hours
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An arctic fox (Vulpes lagopus) collects fish washed up on the shore Kamchatka Peninsula, Russian Far East
Photograph by Dmitry Utkin
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 13 hours
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*sees the icon of a mutual I literally never talk to* oh look it’s my Friend
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 14 hours
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the only reason why ten year old girls are destroying stupidly overpriced products at sephora to make “skincare smoothies” is because they aren’t being given access to a yard with a variety of mud, sticks, rocks, puddles, and old ceramic planters to make potions in. the children yearn for the apothecary
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 14 hours
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if you've never engaged with a creative art on a regular basis you need to understand that it requires concerted effort to get into "the groove" to make something and every second that it takes to get into that groove causes physical pain, but the only thing worse than doing it is not doing it.
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 14 hours
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he genuinely did not know
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 14 hours
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Hebden Bridge, Calderdale, West Yorkshire (England)
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 14 hours
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can't have shit in Baltimore
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 15 hours
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if parks and rec was still being made they’d do a bit where ron swanson has to wear a pronouns name tag and it’d just be “???/???” And it’d cut to a talking head of him going
“I’ve been a fool all this time. It’s bad enough the government knows my name, but now they want to know my gender? So I’m not letting them know my preferred pronouns. As far as I’m concerned, no one in this building should refer to me at all.”
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 15 hours
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Have fun in the war dumbass I’ll be at home fucking military wives
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 15 hours
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this redditor has the fucking battle royale of invasive plants (in the US) happening in their yard jesus christ. sentences of hate and destruction
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 15 hours
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do you think a dude ever had sex with another guy
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n-e-w-o-t-a-k-u · 15 hours
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I audition for the role of Ophelia.
Ophelia might be 18. She might be 25. We don’t know. We know she’s young and pretty. I’m 27 and fairly pretty. I’m not young.
The director says he won’t cast someone who “looks” older than 25. I know this means he won’t cast someone who looks older than he thinks 25-year-olds look like.
The truth is, your face when you’re 27 is the same face as when you’re 25. The truth is, your face when you’re 25 is usually the same as when you’re 23. It changes sometime in the night when you’re 21.
Your face when you’re 20 is your face when you’re 18 is usually very close to your face when you’re 16. But when you audition for a 16-year-old when you’re 16, you lose the role to someone who’s 25.
You realize that all of those teenagers you watched in movies growing up were adults. They needed to be beautiful. They needed to be desired. Not awkward, growing, acne, baby fat cheeks.
That’s why you never looked like them. You wanted so badly to look like them.
Now 27 is too old for 25 and you spent your life waiting to look old enough to look young until you’re too old to look your age.
I lie. He can’t tell whether I’m 23-25-27 or whatever age at which a woman is disqualified.
I get the role. I meet the actor playing Hamlet. He’s 45. I meet the actress playing Hamlet’s mother, and she’s 30.
God forbid a woman looks like she was born before she gave birth.
Imagine if she looked like a mother.
Would Ophelia like to be a mother?
Would she have to look like one? With stretch marks and tired eyes from late nights nursing her baby?
Would she have to grow up?
Luckily for Ophelia, she drowns before she gets the chance.
Luckily for me, I still look young enough for the audience to care.
Ophelia and I leave behind a perfect corpse. And happily, because who leaves flowers at a grave with crows feet and smiles lines?
The play is a tragedy, so we don’t smile much, anyway. Luckily.
The people will cry because I’m worthy enough to die,
and happy Ophelia will never become too old to play herself.
Ophelia— a somewhat lazy poem I recently found buried in my notes app.
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