The Fault In Our Sombreros.
Nacho average love story.
i took my mother to see this movie for her birthday and accidentally started laughing really loud while everyone else was crying
We’ve all heard it. We’ve come home from tear-inducing, locker-slamming days, from long snickering stares and not-so-casual averted gazes, to this:
'Normal? That's just a setting on the dryer.'
Eight-year-old you with the glasses, twelve-year-old you with the comics collection, we all wanted to smack the speaker just then. A cheerful, dismissive wave of a dad-ism, a camaraderie so forced between generations it made us want to wince.
Still, let’s be honest. Years later — choosing our own lens frames, comics neatly stacked against one wall — we adopted it. We ripped our denimed knees and topped our exams proudly with hard-to-spell names. We reveled in the illusion of singularity. We were desperate for some sign we weren’t succumbing to that dreaded nemesis, Normal; for the rollercoaster every YA novel told us we should be on.
But I am here to say I want off the ride.
Last night I realized I am almost twenty years old. For much of my life I’ve imagined a figurative blue and white tag stuck to my front: Hello, I am UNIQUE. I crave the soar of a pop-punk soundtrack to every fumbled kiss, the way crying so hard you retch is like swallowing jagged steel.
But I never realized until now that even a dryer has madness tumbling around inside. You leave too much in the filter, and everything can go up in flames. When its water is spent, it gives a distress call from the depths of a basement no one inhabits, that it takes ages for someone to hear.
I am already the dryer. I’ve been whirling around in it all along. And I want to change the setting.”
thank you to literally every person who asked the 67 yo man i was working with if I was his helper. Thank you so much for assuming i was working for him, when in reality, we were co-workers, working together to check each other’s work to prevent mistakes. Thank you for assuming that he knew more than I did on account of his age. Thank you so much for reducing me to my most obvious characteristic: my age. Just thank you, so much