elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey:
he looks so heartbroken
He looks like a little kid confessing something to his parents
this is jared padalecki “i lost my shoe” all over again
omfg i just ordered pizza and as i was about to hang up i said love you out of habit and the guy said it back and after a whole minute of dead silence he just tells me that he hopes that i’m not expecting a discount on the pizza just cause we confessed our undying love for each other! oMFG!
guys! he sent me a note on one of the napkins and i just
I ship it
I thought we were supposed to have grown up in university.
They have warned their fellow students that the ground is lava to prevent any injuries I think that is very mature of them
reblogging again
IT GOT BETTER
my rant after the first year as a lecturer.it hurts and I can’t stop crying
I graduated from the uni last year and I decided to stay there as a lecturer just to take my time, to ‘gap-year’ and to understand what I really want in my life. Now my first year’s drawing to a close and it’s beyond my imagination how the time’s passed so fast and how the students I used to be scared of, the students who were both eyewitnesses and victims of my tiny newbie-mistakes and still didn’t turn tables on me, how these people who, once I entered the classroom for the first time, stated that I must be prepared for an attendance close to zero, now practically line up for my classes, take part in all the crazy projects I offer them, more or less devote time to the routinous tasks anyone who wants to master a language has to do, and I can’t believe it’s happening! When I was applying for a job, head of the chair told me:’you’re one naive and sensitive girl, it will be hard for you to cope with the students’, but I decided that if I want to attain at least something in my life I should give it a bash, whatever number of sedatives it takes me to accomplish the task.
But I was wrong when I thought I was doomed. Even the toughest students I used to have harsh misunderstandings with, are at their most animated now, attending on a regular basis, actively participating in the activities. They are only two years junior to me, so it was an even harder task for me to make them understand that I’m their professor, not a pal. To tell the truth, I hate it that I have to keep that profile, because sometimes I just don’t want to… This is why I hate subordination.
Because I’ll never be able to re-draw their image of me… If only I could hang out with them, call them by their first names, have a good laugh and discuss something ‘off-the-record’, my life would be complete.
But once the last class’s over-we are history, and I AM history for them. They’ll think of me exceptionally in the context of those walls, which we were sitting in and making our round-table talks. I mean nothing to them beyond those walls, I guess. The same thing can hardly be said about myself. They occupy my mind practically 24/7. I can’t stop thinking about this cheerful crowd. I’m not sure whether any lecturers in our time ever thought about us the same, but I don’t rule out this possibility. But not the way I do. I love them all. Equally.
And I don’t want to be ‘history’ of the good old times. And the thought that next year they graduate and move out and move on just makes me cry. I want to freeze this moment. That’s why I think that I’ve decided to move out and move on with them, next year. I’ll find another job, I’ll try to get another life, to get rid of all this unneccesary love they wouldn’t appreciate anyways, and maybe to meet some of them one day and say ‘hey! how’s it going? Please, call me Helen!’
I don’t want to be ‘history’. I want a ‘to be continued’.
