peoples wanted gif posts
i give peoples gif post
it’s 2 in the morning
Okay, there’s Arceus. He’s pretty much a llama-goat with a golden wheel encrusted with jewels stuck around the midsection of his body
how did I do
In first grade, I moved to Carmel and started school at Prairie Trace Elementary. After kindergarten ended, my brother and I were immediately shipped to our relatives in China for the summer (which was a yearly thing back then). Little did we know, we wouldn’t even be returning to our old house. I was really a blissfully ignorant kid. Anyway, around September sometime (when school was in session for a few weeks already), my parents finally closed the deal on our new house and so my brother and I were immediately brought back to U.S. Surprise! New house.
I was super excited because our new house was quite a bit bigger than the old one, and it had a three-car garage. Ooooooooh. And we had new furniture. And my parents bought a huge king size bed for themselves, and gave their old queen size one to me. I remember Victor and I just running around the house, exploring each room like it was an exotic cave.
On a Friday, my mom took the day off to register us at the nearest KinderCare, our new daycare. Because I went to “school” at Happy Days, I automatically assumed KinderCare was actually my new school. Totally got this down. I got a bit confused when my parents told me my teacher was Miss Sheridan, who was subbing for Mrs. Budde, yet my KinderCare teacher was not named either of those. Oh well, my little 7-year-old brain simply shrugged the discrepancy off.
My mom was still working at the United Airlines in Chicago at the time, since her transfer to the Indianapolis branch wasn’t complete yet, so she had to drive a full three and a half hours to work. It was up to my dad to drop me off at school. He was running late, so he simply dumped me off at the main entrance of a building I had never seen before. My mom never took me to visit Prairie Trace. I was confused to say the least. Wasn’t my school at KinderCare? WHAT WAS GOING ON?
There were a bunch of children waiting in the front lobby area. I stood there awkwardly, trying to take in my surroundings. At 8:00 a.m., the bell rang and the kids began walking down hallways. Except there were three different hallways to choose from. Panicking, I shuffled behind the group of students who were the closest to my height, but quickly stopped in the middle of the hall when it forked into two more halls. Well, shit. Looking back, I realized I was walking behind the second graders, not the first graders.
I was ready to cry. Tears were stinging my eyes. I could feel my face getting hot. I walked back and forth in the hallway, which was now empty and silent. It seemed unlikely I would find my classroom. Suddenly, I spied an adult walking down the hall, and so I went up to her and asked politely where Miss Sheridan’s class was. The nice lady smiled and led me back out into the lobby area, took me into one of the other hallways, and showed me to Miss Sheridan’s classroom. I remember Miss Sheridan had long, dark hair. She showed me to my cubby (cubbie?), where I was supposed to hang my backpack. That’s all I remember definitively from my first day at Prairie Trace.
The first few days (weeks?) of first grade were confusing. Everyone else knew how to read from kindergarten, but I was utterly illiterate. I was given a worksheet with various picture outlines. The assignment was to color in all the pictures that began with a certain letter. I don’t remember the letter but let’s say it was “B” — so I was supposed to color in the bat and the bee, but leave the pig and school blank. I’m pretty sure I just colored in random pictures (of course beautifully, with the right colors and within the lines). I have no memory of learning how to read, but I did learn…somehow. My parents never made me practice or anything. It’s a mystery. In fact, I learned well enough to qualify for testing into Challenge, which was the program for higher achieving students. SELF-CALL YEAH.
Another thing was that we learned basic Spanish in elementary school. At my first Spanish class, my class gathered in a circle and threw a ball around while saying numbers in Spanish. Whoever caught the ball was supposed to say the next number. I don’t think I ever heard Spanish in my life, so I failed that game. But no matter, I managed to learn Spanish extremely fast and well in comparison to everyone else in my classes. Fun fact 1: My first grade Spanish teacher was Christi Cloud, who is now a pretty high-up administrator for Carmel Clay Schools. Fun fact 2: After Senora Cloud left for her new job, Prairie Trace replaced her with a stay-at-home mom. I seriously had better Spanish than this woman. She pronounced la farmacia as “farm-uh-SEE-uh” (how white can you get, lady?) when it’s fucking supposed to be “far-MAH-see-uh.” THERE’S NO ACCENT ON THE “I.” Yes I am still angry she was allowed to teach.
My parents were never anal about my education, except for math. Now, they didn’t have super high Tiger-Mom-like expectations or anything, but my mom got me learn my multiplication tables through McDonald’s bribes (“if you learn up to 8’s, you can get an ice cream cone”). I still do simple mental multiplication in Chinese because it was ingrained in my brain that well. I also had this weekly worksheet from school called “Sunshine Math,” which consisted of simple word problems and logic problems. I was not good at these, so my dad got extremely frustrated with my ineptitude and made me cry several times. He even made up his own worksheets for me to do, which he named “Moonlight Math.” I hated Moonlight Math because it was even harder.
That was pretty much the extent of my first grade troubles. Interacting with other people wasn’t a chore yet. Although very early on, I got tricked by Nicole Sullivan into trading my brand new pink crayon for her grubby old one. I guess it didn’t occur to me that it was a bad deal.
In first grade, I met Vivian, who became my best friend. We both went to Chinese school and were in the same first grade class. We shared a strange obsession over two boys in our class. For her, it was C.E. and for me it was J.J. (using initials because those people still know people we know lol). Basically we imagined marrying these guys and talked about them constantly and giggled over them like the silly first graders we were. I remember J.J.’s favorite color was green, so I even scrounged up extra green crayons from my house to give to him. Dang I was cute. Vivian and I also owned these floppy stuffed bunnies, which we played with constantly — at Chinese school, during recess, whatever; it was a great time. Unfortunately, Vivian went to China during summer break, and after she came back for second grade, we somehow weren’t friends anymore. We didn’t really become good friends again until around middle school, early high school. Sadness.
I also met Tracy and Sara. Sara became another best friend. Tracy was part of my parents’ new Carmel clique of cards-players, but we didn’t become good friends until around fourth grade when we were finally in the same class.
To be honest, I was friends with everyone in my first grade class. I even went to a girl’s birthday party, where every girl in the class was invited. Maggie McNoughton’s, it was. Early elementary school was really a wonderful time, because I was truly friends with every classmate. We weren’t separated by honors classes or extracurriculars or conflicting cultural interests. We were all little kids in the same boat, trying to learn how to spell and add numbers. In first grade, I was friends with people who are now skanky white girls, emo people, jocks, and nerds. It’s really pretty sad how as we grow older, we grow more segregated and exclusive.
Okay so I know this is kinda taboo but anyways.
Frida Kahlo: Not too easy on the eyes. I mean she’s got the lady-mo and the monobrow thing going on. She didn’t know where to put her blush or what shade lipstick would obviously suit her skin tone. Really, she’s a bit of a wreck. So this got me to thinking. What would have happened if her girlfriends had done the right thing and taken her to a beautician, (which clearly needed to happen)? I did a subtle re-paint over the top of her original self-portrait to “conceptualize” what it would have looked like if she had been whisked off to Beauty Works or the likes….I didn’t want to alter the integrity of the original painting too much. What do you reckon?
ok I found it
OH MY GOD GET THE FUCK OUT
a woman who doesn’t subscribe to the idealizations of beauty? welp, gotta go in and pluck and polish and completely bastardize every one of her independent thoughts and conscious decisions because eugh, how gross, how unladylike.
frida kahlo embraced her natural beauty and her ethnic roots and you really have no right to say that she should have been taken to an aesthetician because you don’t think that she’s attractive.
you say you didn’t want to alter the integrity of the original, but by feminizing and idealizing kahlo’s image that is exactly what you have done.
jesus fucking christ.
OP you have committed sacrilege. Sacrilege!
op clearly doesn’t know who she is
otherwise they would’ve never even touched the painting
is this how white ppl see frida? srsly?
this is literally one of the worst posts i’ve ever seen on tumblr
racist, misogynist hogwash. and there’s more of it on their tumblr. that whole “pretty girl” instructional thing is horrifying
they also made this lovely thing: http://toonsketchbook.tumblr.com/post/36656784383
20, going to Dartmouth. This blog is mostly for complaining.
Ask me anything