and it’s going to be a list of people whose existence I appreciate.
I want to be remembered as a person who saw the world through their fingertips. I want to be remembered for my art.
Thea; Rochester Institute of Technology; Medical Illustration.
Filipino; existentialist; straightforward.
Every form of art.
Undercuts, zombies, Toblerone, maps, books, The Walking Dead, x-acto knives, tea, comics, science, art supplies, animal skulls.
I don't have a strict genre of music.
If you'd like to know more, look at the personal page.
I have an ask box for a reason.Masterposts / Random / Hair
If only I could take every broken x-acto blade I’ve ever gone through so I could shove it down your throat to SHUT YOUR FUCKING BITCHASS, SELF-CENTERED, EGOTISTICAL, GROSS, DISGUSTING FACE
So yesterday I noticed a dead opossum by the sidewalk and walked over to it. It turned out to be a mommy, with 3 babies (still alive) in its pouch, so I called Sophie and she gave me the number for Animal Control. They told me I’d have to wait 45 minutes to an hour for them to get there.
One was completely in the pouch, another under the mom, and the third crawling around, making noises.
30 minutes into waiting, my friend Becca texts me saying she just got off work from the South Florida Wildlife Center and she’d be willing to pick them up and take them there instead of handing them over to Animal Control.
The doctor said that the babies were at their borderline weight to be out of the pouch, and they’ll be in the incubator.
Becca just texted me that 2 of them made it. The one that was crawling around didn’t.
I know I should be happy that they’re alive but I honestly feel really shitty about the third one. I wish I got there sooner or something.
So I met Neil Gaiman today and he not only signed my moleskine and gave me awesome hugs, but said my artwork is really good.
I can die happy now.
I wrote this for McCall when Julia and I visited him 6 days ago.
He was in the hospice at the time.
I regret not writing this earlier in spite of your critical condition, but I hope that when you get this, you have the strength to read it.
There are many students, all over the country, I’m sure, that appreciate your presence in their lives. Most of all, those who were in your class at Cooper City High. A majority of them adored you, and still do. Many vied for your class before they became seniors. There were always rumors about your teaching methods. Your reputation preceded you.
And now that you’r back in the hospital, everyone has been affected by it. So many students, whose lives you’ve altered, that want to show you just how much you mean to them. So many that aren’t ready, and will never be ready, for you to go.
I am writing this letter for you right now, to express my true gratitude for not only being my teacher, but my mentor. You’ve taught not only me, but everyone that’s stepped in your class, the power of determination, perseverance, and positive thinking. That all is not lost in the world of willpower; that we can allow our dreams to come true if we let them. I look up to you in more ways than one can imagine, and I will always look up to you, McCall.
Many say that all heroes have flaws, but they forget why people are heroes in the first place. They represent ideals for others, instill values in those around them, and mentor those in need of help. Believing in others that don’t believe in themselves, and successfully re-shaping the world one person at a time. You are my hero, Mr. McCall. I have so much to be thankful for because of you. You have re-shaped my life for the better. And while I can’t show just how grateful I am to have met you in my life, I’m inspired to live by your philosophy on it.
So, thank you. Thank you for making everyone always strive for more. For pushing ourselves. To have us find our true potential.
Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for being so much more than just a teacher.
Thank you for everything.
and I’m going through my graphite pencils right now.
/this is a problem
and I actually cannot stop sniffing it.
It smells so deliciously new and holy unf
I can’t stop, guys.
So am I. We’re perfect for each other.
I have reblogged this for obvious reasons. This anon is a fucking idiot. Good day!
Hannah, I love you.