roadsidewildflower @ roadsidewildflower @midwest.social

Posts

31

Comments

36

Joined

1 yr. ago

idk helen lewis is such an uninteresting writer

consume. you will be happy. just consume more. you need these things. consume. fuck the environment. consume. you will not be good enough without our product. consume. wrap yourself in the narratives we create about who you are by buying or not buying our product, subsume your understand of the world under the one we give you, prostrate yourself upon the altar of pseudo corporate idolatry, consume. consume consume consume.

the wonderfully bizarre amount of detail (like the reporters on camera right outside the site) is what makes it so good to me

i feel like every time i try to watch weekend update that one guy (the one who isn't scarjo's husband) makes a misogynistic statement and everyone pretends like it's a joke for some reason and i quit watching snl to do something much richer with my one wild life

https://wildlifeinformer.com/animals-that-eat-their-young/

🤓 🤓 🤓

average man in the suburban midwest tbh, just add some wraparound sunglasses and poorly maintained facial hair and you've got a portrait in 4k

realized I only had ~100 days left to post this now that he dropped out of the race lol

God, me

Are you there, God? It's me, [redacted].

yeah, we get it, you make your own coffee in the morning smh

huh. how mundane. not the prophecy that google translate augured smh

an intelligent, nuanced take in a shitpost space that recognizes the importance of touching grass and loving your neighbor and building structures of mutual aid? I didn't think I'd live to see the day 😍

"cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life; thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you; and you shall eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return"

lol I am a gay woman

psh ur mom showed me her full moon last night and it wasn't even half that thick

makes me want to become a beacon of pure love for my fellow lost fireflies winking and blinking in the long, dark night of the cosmos

fucking beautiful, stealing it

brb, boutta update my teaching philosophy in case I decide to go on the job market again

hmm I'm trying to remember how they reacted, and honestly they couldn't entirely remember. I think they liked voting for which one went up there, mostly because middle schoolers really like voicing their opinion. Probably a lot of them thought it was dumb, and some of them thought it was neat. To be honest, any way that middle schoolers are interacting with the subject of death is going to be fairly surface-level given where they are in their development as humans. But, I hope I was able to give them some of the tools to really begin exploring what these ideas mean to them, especially when the ideas and feelings start hitting like semis as they age. We also did a bunch of cool things, like I had a quarter where each week we'd read a fairy/folk tale or two centered around an idea (beauty, greed, evil, etc.), and then read some philosophy/news adjusted to their level that complimented the idea, and then they'd do some writing or whatever. Pretty fun. Kids seemed to actually like it tbh

But then I moved from my struggling rural district to a polarized rural/suburban district, and the kids there hated it and whined everything was too dark smh

Yes, I actually intended this as a personal attack specifically for you! So glad you saw it!!

A few years ago I read Tuck Everlasting with my middle school students and had them brainstorm a momento mori phrase we could write and put next to the clock by the door, as a reminder that both death was coming and that the more they wished time would go by for class to be over, the more their very lives passed them by. We did a little poll, one phrase won, and I put it up on posterboard by the clock. Only thing is, I can’t remember the phrase. How I wish I could. But time wears away at us all and robs us of the little things, these little memories that make us ourselves, until we exit life as the same tabula rasa we were at birth. Like waves slipping in, and out, leaving nothing but smooth sand left in their wake; a half memory of what used to be, as the cycle of life and tine churns ever on.