A co-worker called me “sweetheart” the other day. More in that small-town diner waitress kind of way than anything else. He is not a diner waitress. He also does not fall into any of the categories of people who might be able to get away with this. I like being called by my damn name.
Lise Meitner was a physicist who laid some of the groundwork for the atomic bomb. She studied independently, since the university of the time did not accept female students, and ultimately took an exam to prove she understood the material. I happen to think skipping the hassle of university classes sounds like a swell idea,
I used a public restroom, today, and I snapped a picture of the stall door. Someone has written the words Suicide Club on the stainless steel in electric youth pink. I don’t know if it’s a plea for help, or a bid for attention, or just graffiti referencing a movie or manga. And I don’t know