Des Moines Tribune, Iowa, September 21, 1960

[Image ID: a black and white typography edit that reads, in all caps, "the homosexual and the transsexual must always seek to liberate the other for they fight the same fight!" in the middle of the image is a dandelion with a bloom, buds, leaves, and exposed roots. behind the dandelion is a black square. the image is framed by a black square. the entire image is textured to look aged and photocopied. /End ID]

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*does the anime character with glasses thing*

Lads

I hope everyone is having a fucking day

how to solve a rubik’s cube a gay valentine’s/anniversary comic about trying to impress a boy (my now boyfriend) [rbs&follows>likes]

i saw this post earlier about therapists and it reminded me of my old therapist paul, who in my opinion is one of the greatest men alive and who did not put up with my bullshit for even one second

anyway i go in to see paul one week in the summer of 2016, and i’m doing my usual bullshit which consists of me talking shit about myself, and paul is staring at me, and then he cuts me off and says that he’s got a new tool for helping people recognize when they’re using negative language, and gets up and goes over to his desk

and i’m like alright hit me with that sweet sweet self-help article my man, because i’m a linguistic learner and whenever paul’s like here i have a tool for you to use it’s pretty much always an article or a book or something

paul opens a drawer, takes something out, and turns back around. i stare.

i say, paul.

is that a nerf gun.

yeah, says paul.

i say, are you gonna shoot me with a nerf gun in this professional setting.

he happily informs me that that’s really up to me, isn’t it. and sits back down. and gestures, like, go ahead, what were you saying?

and i squint suspiciously and start back up about how i’m having too much anxiety to leave the house to run errands, like it was a miracle to even get here, like i’ve forgone getting groceries for the past week and that’s so stupid, what a stupid issue, i’m an idiot, how could i–

a foam dart hits me in the leg.

i go, hey! because my therapist just shot me in the leg. paul blinks at me placidly and raises an eyebrow. i squint again.

i say, slowly, it’s– not a stupid issue, i’m not stupid, but it’s frustrating me and i don’t want it to be a problem i’m having.

no dart this time. okay. sweet.

so the rest of the hour passes with me intermittently getting nailed with tiny foam darts and then swearing and then fixing my language and, wouldn’t you know it, i start liking myself a little more by the end of the session, which is mildly infuriating because paul can tell and he’s very smug about it 

anyway i leave his office and the lady having the next appointment walks in and i hear what’s all over the floor? and paul very seriously says cognitive behavioral therapy tools.

1, horrific button candle

2, chocolate dessert candles that I deeply regretted sniffing

3, very normal shower basket

4, so many little carousel horses about half where music boxes and I wanted one so bad

5, obligatory clown shelf

6, live size Elvis statue

7, flip-flop ice cube tray that makes flip flop ice cubes

8, distressed zebra

9, huge cow bell collar possibly for an actual cow?

10, medieval suit of armor statue like 2 rows down from the Elvis

Thrift stores in southwest NM

Idk why I bother to be on time to work. Gimme a raise then I'll pull up at 5:50am and wait 20 minutes to be let in.