✨ Fairies aren't always tiny. In traditional Celtic folklore, many fairies were human-sized or even taller than humans.🌙 The Fair Folk dislike iron. Cold iron was believed to repel or harm fairies, which is why iron horseshoes were often hung over doors.
Sorry I haven't updated in a little over a week Ive been having exam after exam essay after essay to write I type this now as in 30 minutes I have a microeconomics exam and then after that an accounting exam pray for me.
.jpg)
.png)
There’s something bittersweet about growing up as a girl. When we were little, friendships felt effortless like magic. You could walk up to another girl on the playground, ask “Do you want to play?”, and suddenly you were best friends for the next hour… or the next five years. There was no overthinking, no judgment, no hesitation. Just connection.
But somewhere along the way, something shifted.
Now, introducing yourself feels like stepping into a battlefield. You smile at a girl your age, and she gives you a dirty look. You try to start a conversation, and it feels like you’re interrupting something. You think you made a friend, but she only needed help with an assignment. Someone says they want to hang out, but they never text you again. It’s like everyone is guarded, suspicious, or already exhausted.
And honestly? It hurts.
Howard Hawks’ His Girl Friday is one of the defining screwball comedies of Hollywood’s Golden Age. Hawks, known for his rapid‑fire dialogue and genre‑bending instincts, took the original play The Front Page and made a bold change: he turned reporter Hildy Johnson into a woman. That single shift created a chaotic, witty, and often uncomfortable battle of gender, power, and professional ambition.
The plot follows Hildy, a brilliant reporter trying to leave journalism behind to marry her mild fiancé, Bruce. Her ex‑husband and editor, Walter Burns, has other plans. He pulls her back into covering the case of Earl Williams, a man who's mental‑health struggles are dismissed by the justice system and exploited by the press. As the story unfolds, Walter manipulates Hildy emotionally and professionally, using charm, guilt, and outright sabotage to keep her close.
Our college won its first home football game, and as part of the color guard in the marching band, it was a long but super fun day. I was out there from 10 AM all the way until 7 PM, by the end my feet hurt so much :(.
School is already getting intense, so my posts might slow down a bit — going from three a week to maybe one. It’s only the third week, and professors are already saying, “Start studying, your exam is sometime next week.” The stress is real
Sometimes I swear certain men wake up every morning and choose Patrick Bateman energy like it’s a personality trait. The emotional range of a business card. The empathy of a marble countertop. The confidence of someone who’s never been told “no” in their entire life.
And the wild part? We’ve normalized it. Society looks at straight‑up manipulation and goes, “aww he’s just mysterious.” No, babe — he’s rehearsing his lines like he’s about to monologue in a mirror with Huey Lewis & The News playing in the background.
I don’t know who decided the first week of college should feel like a midterm week, but that’s exactly what it feels like right now. We’re barely five days in, and I’m already questioning my life choices, my major, and honestly… my sanity.
Let’s start with my accounting professor — because wow. Day one. First class. First thing we do? A test. Not a syllabus review, not a “welcome to class,” not even a “how was your summer?” Nope. A test. And not just any test — you needed a 100% to unlock the course materials. I felt like I was trying to break into Nasa's database. It took me six tries to get that perfect score, and by the end I was sweating like it was the CPA exam itself.
Then there’s my microeconomics professor, who decided to kick off the semester with the most motivational speech ever: “Some of you guys are going to fail this class.” Like… thank you? What a beautiful way to build confidence and inspire young minds. Truly poetic.
And because the universe loves me, I’ve already completed four assignments and still have six more due before Sunday. It’s giving academic hazing. It’s giving “welcome to college, hope you survive.”
At least one of my professors is a literal angel and didn’t assign anything this week. I might actually cry tears of gratitude.
But wait — school isn’t the only thing draining me. I also started driving school, and let me just say: why do instructors act like you should already know how to drive perfectly? My parents never taught me, so I took matters into my own hands and paid $600 for lessons. And instead of teaching me, I’m getting lectured for being “a tad slow.” Sir, that’s why I’m here. If I knew how to drive, I wouldn’t be paying you half a paycheck to teach me. And I was shamed for needing 45 minutes to complete the maneuverability part perfectly.
Between professors acting like drill sergeants, assignments piling up like laundry, and driving instructors expecting me to be NASCAR-ready, I’m already exhausted — and its only week one.
Help me I feel like this photo...
In folklore, they are one of the most complex, broad classifications of supernatural creatures and there is no one definitive way to view them.
Folkloric Fae don't operate on a human-centric moral axis of "good" and "evil." Their behavior is better understood as amoral, governed by a strict and alien code of conduct. They can be helpful or hostile depending on circumstances and whether they've been shown the proper respect. An act of kindness might be rewarded, but a perceived slight could lead to ruinous retribution!!!
.png)
.png)
.png)
