Whenever I get slightly nostalgic for high school, it’s more because there was safety in knowing it was fleeting and temporary and insignificant and knowing where I stood… most of the time.

Not that college is the be-all end-all experience of your lifetime… but it certainly matters more than four years of OMGHORMONESFORTHEFIRSTTIME and monotonous worksheets and AP questions with five correct answers and you have to choose the “best” one and 8 minutes between classes and chaperoned lunches and hall passes and school buses.

E-mail forwards describing a terrible event really bum me out when they’re true. Not always because it’s a horrible thing happening but because I can’t post “yeah this was made up, learn to f—ing Google.”

DEAR WEATHER,

IT IS JANUARY.

LOVE,

SHANNON.

I feel like one day i’m going to compile all these images into some crazy art piece about collecting marshmallow data

I’d love to be a part of that.

Also, Erin wants to learn the ways of the Lucky Charms graphing. You are the master. SHAFERONSATURDAYTOO? lulz.

Does it really count as a crush though if you’re just like “I WANT TO MARRY YOU” when you see him every 4 weeks?

I want to stop feeling bitter about high school. I’m in college now. It was a year ago.

But one year isn’t that long. Everything is still fresh. I just cleaned the damn wound, now it’s trying to heal. And it doesn’t help when reminders of that hurt is shoved back in my face.

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sharkinthedungeon:

attention shannon

i was pulling the straw out of my orange juice and accidentally sprayed myself right in the eyeball with orange juice and instead of cursing i just went “oh, CRAYP” in a very shannon-esque intonation 

sometimes I think I should record myself saying “OH, CRAYUP” for TPT kids to play on repeat when necessary.