Column: Tattoo inspiration
Don’t feel included enough in political conversation? Here are some fun ideas to spark conversation at parties or in a park. Or at the doctor’s office. Or at the grocery store. Wherever tattoos might come up.
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Don’t feel included enough in political conversation? Here are some fun ideas to spark conversation at parties or in a park. Or at the doctor’s office. Or at the grocery store. Wherever tattoos might come up.
Today my classmate sent me a link to a Tom Holland movie in development. Oh. My. God. I am screaming. I am SCREAMING! I am sitting in Davis Library, in a wooden chair, with my head facing the ceiling, just straight banshee. That pasty, white face is EVERYTHING. His range in acting from “Spider-Man” to “Not Spider-Man” is going to work so well that I am still just losing it. Chris Evans is joining him too? Sign me up. I can’t find the off button, this news is so amazing. Reminded that Tom exists, I decided to check his Instagram. I saw that post where he popped the top off that champagne. Folks…
Spectacular!
I have lots of goodwill and happiness to share. Need a boost in your mood? Want some tips to survive finals season? Well, here you go. I am, in fact, a genius. I have researched these methods and they do, in fact, work. They are not at all stolen from every other teen advice article I’ve read online.
I cannot believe that I have the privilege of releasing the most important breaking news that has come to the DTH in a while: that white guy in your class who is really passionate about your class material and loves to vocalize his opinions, often speaking over everyone, including the professor, is thriving. This is the result of an infestation that has been called “catering to the white male.”
This past Sunday, I walked to Franklin Street, enjoying the nice, cool air of a morning filled with worship and family. But I have to admit that I felt like I stuck out, and was unsure why. Maybe I sensed that the churchgoers could smell my atheism, or that they could tell from my slightly disheveled hair that I had been in bed until noon. Nevertheless, something deep inside of me stirred that day, and I struggled to comprehend what it could possibly be.
Socializing is an activity that I often struggled with as a child and one that I continue to struggle with. This discomfort with getting to know others is not exactly something that can be easily fixed. My main reason for this is that people are different, and there are varying ways people interact with each other, so when introverted people ask for advice on how to make more friends, one of the least helpful things to say is, “well just try harder, and put yourself out there.” An introverted person is more inclined to keep to themselves, which is not at all a weakness, but when giving advice to this personality type, it is counterproductive to push them to do something that’s not a part of their personality.
It has been brought to my attention — for the past twenty years of my life — that I am, in fact, “cute,” “adorable” and “innocent.” My lack of participation in alcohol consumption, drug use and cursing, I suppose, has molded me into what I could only best describe as the protagonist of an anti-sex/drugs/alcohol campaign. One of my friends recently summed up my presumed essence best when he asked me, “Have you even seen a penis?” Often I am offended at the notion of someone else deciding my level of innocence for me, but, as it has passively been pointed out to me by many, I am but a weak little female, so ultimately I’m not qualified to determine who I really am.
One of my favorite games I like to play at the beginning of every school year is, “How long can I ration the five remaining pads I have left in my bathroom before I have to drop a whole 10 dollars on a new pack?”