bitchslapping cary grant (and other stories)
amber. 23. massachusetts.

i've been living with chronic major depression for almost 14 years, and i post pretty openly about it, just giving you fair warning.

writer. esl teacher. amateur pastry chef. jewelry maker. artist. marxist. girl-dandy. cinema addict. philologist. in love. just trying to keep my head up.

i'm generally a nice person and i try to be as positive as i can. the only thing i'm really intolerant of is intolerance.

i basically survive off of ativan, espresso, bourbon, and green tea, and i think eating and sleeping are highly overrated.

i enjoy eyeliner moustaches, baking cookies shaped like ninjas, oscar wilde-esque dandyism, jewfros, watching turner classic movies while heavily intoxicated, socialism, linguistics, jack nicholson's facial expressions, dressing up in ridiculous costumes for no reason whatsoever, boston, and road-tripping.

i just do what i do and enjoy the ride i'm on.


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Theme by Stijn
February 23rd
10:31 PM
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every time i talk photoshoots with people the following dialogue goes on in my head:

- photoshoot! exciting!

- oh, fuck, i’ve probably gained twenty pounds since i was last photographed, ew.

- who the fuck cares? it’s not like i want to be an actual model or anything.

- still, should i risk a diet?

- yeah, probably. it’s worth a shot.

- but you know crash diets never work anyway…

- maybe i’ll just kick up my pilates routines.

- yeah, that would be good.

- maybe i shouldn’t even agree to this. objectification and all that bullshit.

- but still…photoshoot! exciting!

suffice to say my head is kind of a fucked-up place to live.