This is my resting bitchface. I’m not trying to look cross in this picture, I just look angry whenever I’m not smiling.
At my company, the president has tried to use bright colors and artwork to reduce the jail feel of working somewhere that makes you want to gouge your eyeballs out with spoons while shoving sharpened spikes underneath your fingernails.
It doesn’t help. At all. Not one bit. If you chain someone to a desk, lethargy and depression are inevitable.** The bright yellow walls and artwork just make me feel worse somehow.
**at a job you hate
|—||Paulo Coelho (via cloudypianoblues)|
I will create an elaborate back story for every person I see while people watching.
Unrelated, if I know there is no chance I’ll ever see a certain person again(so airport, bar in strange city, et. al) I will strike up a conversation with a complete stranger and lie about super random things about myself. Like where I’m from, what I do for a living, where I went to school and other random facts. That probably means I’m some sort of sociopath, but not really because I’m extremely apologetic and feel strong guilt and shame feelings just for having privilege and also love very deeply.