I spend my life reading, writing stories and poems, drinking too much tea and coffee, perfecting my eyeliner, watching anime and various other brilliant TV shows, scrolling through YouTube subscriptions and Tumblr, taking photographs, avoiding Facebook and people, wishing I had a cat and skipping songs when iTunes is on shuffle.
If you take a young man and woman and they both tell a stranger that they work in the same restaurant, it’s very likely that they will assume that the woman is the waitress, and the young man a cook.
But I thought a woman’s place was in the kitchen? Not when she’s being paid for it. I can’t believe it took me this long to realize the implication of this. A woman’s place is one of servitude.
wtf is homecoming?? who is coming home??? where have they been??? did they bring souvenirs??