13 New England sayings that are “wicked hahd” for the rest of America to understand.
Inspired by Business Insider’s recent lists of Southern slang and Midwestern expressions the rest of America doesn’t understand, here are 13 New England sayings that will inspire you to visit Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut*, and Rhode Island
*Apparently Connecticut’s only cultural contribution is “Gilmore Girls.”
I’m really only posting this for the * on Connecticut. Never seen Gilmore Girls but I get asked about it enough.
Myself at 14:
Shit what is this stuff on my face? Acne? Damn it. But at least I'm like everyone else.
Myself at 16:
Yea so this totally will go away when I'm 18, that's how life works right?
Myself at 18:
Well, maybe LandSea didn't help.
Myself at 20 (study abroad):
Well, I don't know if it's the carb based diet, the excessive drinking, the smoking or the general smog that is Quito but if my host mom doesn't stop commenting on my face I'm going to...
Myself at 21:
Well my face is breaking out, must mean I'm not pregnant, ha ha, jokes, fucking hormones.
Myself at 22:
Alright, whatever, I look damn good enough most of the time.
Short version of that last dramatic post: I need to stop being a whiny turd and apply to a shit ton of things, hopefully get something that pays better than what I’m currently doing and I’m remotely interested in and stop saying cynical things in my head after reading yogi tea tags.
And to the rando dude who commented, don’t read so damn literally. You missed the point.
I don’t know how to settle. I got my heart broken too early and it was a wake up call to everything else that might be out there. Seventeen and before that I vaguely had a plan. Then, this is what being with someone who is depressed is like. This is what being depressed is like. This is not knowing. This is having your plan chewed up and spit out. This is being alone. This is being unhappy. This is being in a relationship and being unhappy. This is being alone and being somewhat happy. This is getting crushed. This is leaving. This is endings. This is being pissed off or apathetic. This is driving across country away from what I know and hating most every minute. This is driving into a thunderstorm miles away in the distance with no hills around to protect and no phone signal to comfort while my windshield is pounded with water. This is finding a routine and finding a calm. This is climbing peaks and exploring alone, enjoying the pain, the dirt, the quiet and the space. This is being alone but knowing there are those that love me. This is driving back and not knowing, not knowing if I’ll regret it leaving, but looking forward across this country that really isn’t that big and yet huge, so how can I settle?
How do they do it, the ones who make love without love? Beautiful as dancers, gliding over each other like ice-skaters over the ice, fingers hooked inside each other’s bodies, faces red as steak, wine, wet as the children at birth whose mothers are going to give them away. How do…
When given the choice between being respectful, caring or considerate, or being a complete dick, go ahead, chose the latter; you’re nothing special, just another ordinary human being looking out for yourself.
I’m honestly already planning out my mid-life crisis for when I decide that the world is hopeless and no one is going to give a shit about the environment anyways and we’re all doomed to drought or flood or the wrath of the earth. At this point I’ll open up a bakery/coffee shop/bar combo that has baked goods for all eating preferences (GF, all the sugar, none of the refined, etc), strong hot coffee, local beer, whiskey, moonshine and also sells knitted goods from happy sheep. Some place I’m dreaming up so people can come in for a visit and temporarily forget about all the hell outside.
I’d like to get away. And to have my own kitchen and bake a dozen pies, one a day and send them away to people that I love but have them be close and not somewhere in the range of 633 to 1331 miles away (that’s 9 to 20 hours in case you’re curious) like they are now. I’d like to stop playing games with parts of my life and I’d like to develop relationships that don’t rely on texts of 160 characters or spill over. I’d like to not be at a disadvantage for a job because I am a small woman who doesn’t necessarily look like she can lift that much (follow me to the gym and I’ll show you otherwise). I’d like to feel passionate enough about one of the things I care about (i.e. climate change, sustainable food systems, farming) to actually make a move to change something. I’d like to figure my shit out. That old phrase that I’ve kept up for years and hasn’t yet happened.
I’ll hopefully be adding new shit this week (I’ve got a hat and a cowl made that’ll go up) but in the meantime and all the way to the 25th of this month, here’s a coupon code for the peeps on here. Spread it around, whatever.
TUMBLR15 is the code. It’s for 15% off on anything.
I’ve also changed the shipping around some so any second item purchased doesn’t have any additional shipping.
the only social thing I had planned for the immediate weekend/tonight was canceled on me and I was sad about it. One the other hand I made the best batch of granola so far (check out the one in the smitten kitchen cookbook-I worked off of that one) and finished a scarf for my etsy shop. Which I might call a neck blanket because that’s basically what it looks like.
I graduated from college four years ago. I know four years probably seems like an infinitesimal blip to many readers (disclaimer #1: self-aware millennial realizes she has far less life experience than you do), but when I remember the anxious stress case I was at 21 — incapable of imagining life as a gainfully employed, emotionally available adult without a crippling fear of failure/with more than two pieces of silverware — it seems like a solid chunk of time.