Latest Posts by thechaoticgentleman - Page 3

rocks

One of the games I like to play when I’m driving or whatever is to try and come up with the most out there paper titles based on the song stuck in my head.

Today’s is “Are YOU sleeping, Brother John?: a feminist deconstruction of the Christofascist child indoctrination in Frére Jacques.” and I might have to stop playing cause how will I ever top that?

HAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHHAHAAHAHAA

My brother made some soup today and as I started eating, it tasted very bland. He poured his soup and then left the room, so I added some salt to mine. and, yup. Much better, so I added salt to his bowl. And then added salt to the pot of soup.

I think I just older brothered my older brother

I'm feeling kinda terrible, like I'm going to pass out constantly. So I'll be terminating my day soon, but I finished the pattern for an embroidery project I'm working on. I don't like this shirt very much, so if I fuck it all up, no hard feelings. It's inspired by Dutch pottery (you know the ones) and Im really excited to work on this because it helps me connect to my culture. Something I know most, if not all, white Canadians and Americans can relate to. Good morning, good afternoon, good evening and good night <3

I'll have to make a record of this before I forget so,

Kintsugi - on March seventh, I came to an idea. Eventually, this idea was called Kintsugi, named after the Japanese art of putting broken pottery back together with gold. Which is the only way to describe the main idea of the story.

It follows a young man who uses a wheelchair (I've not developed this story well enough to know why), he's in college and has an adoration for pottery, of which he owns many pieces. But he feels like he's fallen into a nightmare of monotonous life, and endless cycle of class, sleep and commuting. One push, and then another, waiting for life to change. While sitting in class one day, a tardy student comes to sit next to (oh god wait I don't have names.. (we'll call them 1 and 2 stfu)) 1, who is strangely attracted to this carefree mess of a man. After sharing some missed notes with 2, 1 is introduced to a new way of see life. Become close friends, 2 teaches 1 to enjoy a crisp view of the world, one filling with unbridled love and optimism. This evolution is tackled delicately enough over the course of serveral chapters. Eventually, while hanging out one evening 1 discovers 2 was never everything 1 thought he was. There's no short way to write this scene without doing a great injustice. Basically 2 was only ever as you chose to see him, a prefect piece of porcelain, or Kintsugi.

Inspiration comes from basically anywhere, but sometimes I want something to occupy my mind as I live. So I make stories from small fragments of inspiration. Usually agitation, if I'm being honest. Sometimes they come from small bits of hope. Those are always my favorite.

Today I believe it was hope. Maybe optimistically, I want to believe it was hope.

Chaotic Academia Spotify Playlists: The Complete Collection

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3q0JPpoeoSfYB4njmfRj7K?si=B0heqlLUSqelVpfkl2oo0Q&utm_source=copy-link

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6EWrhl3niUYQOIkPdc5zJ1?si=ddfoegERTeeZxVn923KImw&utm_source=copy-link

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6MsyW5iZV5ldq8UW4mULFQ?si=m7ULmehUSuefTIOVOEPcsA&utm_source=copy-link

Some choatic academia playlist for your aching souls.

(from top to bottom)

Wake up sleepy head! - upbeat morning playlist

Hoodies over dress shirts - a collaborative all around playlist

Oversized t-shirt and a book - calm evening playlist

Hope you enjoy!

Edgar Allan Poe

I don't have a time machine but there are some kids who I walk with (we walk along the same path when going home) and I make sure they know I'm listening. There's one who's voice echos off buildings, and she's reminds me of myself a lot. I hope no one destroys that spirit of hers, you do your best kid.

christ sometimes I just wanna. steal a time machine & go back & sit down next to my 9-year-old self and just like. let them pull out their pokemon card binder & gush about their holographic gyarados or whatever. I'd just smile & ask questions about motherfukcing bulbasaur & tell my kid self that I thought they were a neat person, & someday they'd find other people who thought so too.

like i'm a grown adult who honestly finds most kids stuff boring, but. damn if i could go back & hang out with my baby self & listen to them ramble...just so they knew someone was listening. i would in a heartbeat. thinking about u kid

Inspiration comes from basically anywhere, but sometimes I want something to occupy my mind as I live. So I make stories from small fragments of inspiration. Usually agitation, if I'm being honest. Sometimes they come from small bits of hope. Those are always my favorite.

Today I believe it was hope. Maybe optimistically, I want to believe it was hope.

Also!, I have to mention putting exclamation points after or before periods and commas to portray different emotions!

You know what? I'm going to put commas and periods wherever I feel like a break or stop would be if I was saying this.

Let's not forget the show specific ones,

"this anime tied me to the back of a truck and dragged me around" - Trigun

"this show made me an orphan and then killed my cool uncle" -a series of unfortunate events

I always knew I needed to keep a clear mind. It was helpful in every sense, but I found it so difficult to achieve, especially when I was conscious of my state of mind. I held my head in my hands, bent over with my elbows digging into my knees. The green park bench didn't help anything either, it was rough, uneven and uncomfortable. The air around me was cold but not harsh on my skin, and gentle winds tousled my hair and swept it to a side. The kindly breeze kept me company, I think it was the only things stopping me from crying.  I inhaled slowly, pushing my hair back with a hand. I closed my eyes and leaned back on the old bench, one of the planks dug into my back but I didn't mind. My head tilted towards the sky, I steadied myself. Slowly, like the forest waking from winter, I opened my eyes. The sky was a light gray, it wasnt unusual to see this sort of cloud cover, even early in spring. Unfortunately, the world told me it wasn't going to rain. I stay stilled for several moments, taking in everything. The smell of late winter, the taste of coffee still resting on my tongue, the sound of the winter rustling the bare limbs of trees. As I breathed, becoming one with my atmosphere, a small speck of white came into vision against the only slightly darker sky. It gently danced through the air and was quickly joined by friends like it. The snowflakes laughed like children and ran around, hopping, skipping and jumping as they descended down through the air, become calmly landing on my face and glasses. I smiled despite myself and previous mood, isn't it funny how quickly things can change? How quickly the walzt of snow fall turned into a slumber and blankets the world in white.

Good weather always brings out the best in my writing

After careful research I've discovered that ...

...

I'm shit at flirting.

I sat there in an almost peaceful silence, if not for the thoughts swishing back and forth in my mind like a broken washing machine, I'd have thought it tranquil. I felt myself choke, I choke and all the thoughts I couldn't swallow. If I felt any better I would have made a joke there, I'm sure you can fill in the blanks. I tried adjusting, maybe the thoughts would disappear like that. They didn't, they bubbled menacingly, they twirled in circle infornt of my eyes. A shuddering gasp for air broke the silence. And then another. A few more as my vision blurred in the dim lighting. It didn't sound like me, rather, like someone else was there, someone else's desperate grabbing for air, someone else's breif and lonely wimper, not my own. I tried to gather myself, I didn't even know what I was crying for. I needed something to block out the quiet cries, before they became racking sobs. Something to put the incessant thoughts to rest, if only for a while.

me to everyone i meet: chill, it'll be fine! take care <3

me to myself: you walking disaster.

Jonathan Gleason was my friend who committed suicide just over a month ago… and I just found out that he wrote this 800+ page analysis textbook. By himself. Because he was teaching analysis and he was dissatisfied with the textbook he was assigned so he just…. wrote his own.

Even if you haven’t done any math… please just take a look at this. Scroll through it as fast as you like. It’s incredible that he put so much work and so much free time into this… I’m still in awe and I really want everyone to see it. In particular, if you want a good laugh, look at chapter 5 of the analysis textbook. The opening paragraph is SO Johnny.

He also wrote a linear algebra textbook, here. 

refseek.com

www.worldcat.org/

link.springer.com

http://bioline.org.br/

repec.org

science.gov

pdfdrive.com

I'm feeling good about myself today, so here's somethings I've done;

I made some tasty food, though I only have one picture to show I also made some bread today which was delicious.

I painted the album cover for "hot shot" by Shaggy, I'm very happy with how it turned out and I'm really glad I traced his face to get it right.

I got back into working out

I did homework, it's not like it was hard but it's still an accomplishment

I finished an anime and I'm excited for the next season

I finally finished watching the Les Miserables stage concert, the movie is musically terrible but the stage concert sounded very good.

I did laundry, I've been ignoring my laundry a bit recently and it got out of hand.

what if every Tumblr user suddenly looses their mouse?

Anyways, I was right.

I'm not googling this just to prove you wrong, Im googling this because you mentioned a topic I'm very interested in

I'm not googling this just to prove you wrong, Im googling this because you mentioned a topic I'm very interested in

Sometimes I remember that there was a little boy who thinks I'm really cool.

Because I wanted to show you

I'm never sure if people believe me when I say I'm empathic because I can be quite the dink. But just look at me. I'm a doofus. I just put my large stuffed animals (whom I always sleep with) on the ground, gave me a pillow and wrapped em in a balnket.

I'm never sure if people believe me when I say I'm empathic because I can be quite the dink. But just look at me. I'm a doofus. I just put my large stuffed animals (whom I always sleep with) on the ground, gave em a pillow and wrapped em in a balnket.

I could say some aesthetically academic but then again I just spend a few minutes arranging scarbble letters in the vintage store to say "be gay do crime" and told the lady that there were no Ms left, then I stuck a foot long sub in my coat pocket whilst singing union songs so I think I lost that privilege

Normalise hand written letters again