theoinglis asked: Dear type jerk, I agree with everything. My question is why do you think these people who clearly know nothing about typography consider themselves typographers? and how long til they take over the design directory too? Glad theres somebody on tumblr pointing out the crap! keep up the good work.

p.s submitting a relevant venn diagram

It’s a matter of exposure. It’s the same thought process of unexperienced people buying high end cameras and calling themselves photographers. Ten years ago the availability of digital camera was by far less than what it is today, the same with design programs. Obviously typography has been mastered for a very long time, the same with photography, but now design programs are easily available. I remember first touching Photoshop when I was in high school and being completely engulfed, but now there are programs built into websites that make it easy to add “typography” over a picture or to a blank canvas. Software piracy plays a role as well, which plays a large part into why people call themselves designers. People believe teaching yourself a program makes you a designer, which is clearly wrong. I’ve taught myself to cook and I’m damn good at it, but I’m no chef. These people who fill up the typography and design directories are uneducated about the basic rules and visual standards that accompany great work. It’s internet culture. Don’t get me wrong, I love the internet and it’s in my opinion, the greatest technological advancement to date, but it comes with consequences. The great works from experienced designers are now readily available for people to mimic and plagiarize, and the more that happens, the quality of work goes down. 
I’m by no means an expert of design or typography, but I know what is acceptable and the reasons to why it is. I created this blog to vent my frustrations of the of the candy coated trash I see on Tumblr, or on the internet itself. It’s just a shame that good design blogs go unnoticed because of some 14 year old bored teenager making things in Picnik or Photoshop. 
I’m here to change that and I couldn’t do it without the people who actually do enjoy me being bitter blogger. So if you haven’t already, recommend this blog, it’s the only way to push some of the waste out of the typography directory.

Thanks,
Type Jerk

Source: http://typejerk.tumblr.com/post/1293575180/dear-type-jerk-i-agree-with-everything-my-question-is

versatile (j)

                - (of a person) having many different skills

                - having many different uses

 versatility (n)

social norm

legitimize (v) make something that's unfair/morally wrong seem acceptable and right

go with = accept someone's idea or plan

hitman = assassin

sporting (j) # unsporting

underhand (j) (or less frequent, underhanded) secret and dishonest

permanent (n) = perm

Dear Meat: Dear Sarah

Dear Sarah

You were the life I’ve always wanted. All my hopes, dreams and ambitions involved you standing beside me, holding my hand. All my fears, nightmares and heartaches involved you holding me and telling me that it’ll be okay - that I’m okay.

You were my inspiration. The reason why I strived to be kinder and a much better person. You were every good feeling and you are all kinds of wonderful. I love you - and I wish it was that simple. I wish that could have been the answer to everything.

I hope we’ll find the lives that we were meant to lead. I hope you’ll fall in love with someone who is better than me and I hope he loves you more than I ever can. I hope that man is the life you’ve always wanted.

Always emotionally yours,
I wish I was the one.

Source: http://dearmeat.me/post/1370974063/dear-sarah

Dear Meat: Dear Ex-Friend

Dear Ex-Friend,

I heard the other day that you are thinking about transferring here next fall. At first, I was a bit in shock. I spread the news like a faithful Southern gossip. I told those that had once been our mutual friends, I told some of my best friends, I told my mother. And then, I expected the shock to go away as the news faded in its newness. But it didn’t. It persisted. Now, everywhere I looked, I caught glimpses of guys I thought might’ve been you. It’s been messing with my head for days.

So now, I’ve decided: I don’t want you to come here. I told everyone that I thought it was a great idea, that it would be perfect for you, that it was exciting, your decision to return home. But I take it all back. I am angry. I am anxious. I do not want you here.

And I thought I had come so far. I thought that I had forgiven you. I still believe that you are forgiven: I said I was sorry for my mistakes, you said you were sorry for yours, and we have thus moved on. I have learned the lessons there are to be learned from our failed friendship: about love and loyalty and forgiveness—of others and of yourself—and hurting. I’ve even almost completely gotten over the fact that everyone else still seems to think that you are this tremendous person, incapable of wrong.

I had moved on. At a new school, in a new city, here at my college, I did that. I made new friends, who understood being used and sympathized with my anger and my hurt and my sadness. I made memories, fabulous memories of side-splitting laughter and memories that only seem to happen in movies, memories of astounding life-lesson understanding. No, I didn’t go far away like you, but I made a new me. A me that would not make the same mistakes that I had made with you.

And now you want to come back. You want to be here. Yes, things are different. I have my new friends and my new lessons and my new memories and my new hair, and you have your girlfriend, your old friends, your old personality. As surely as I know that we can never be friends again, I know you. I know what you’ll want. You’ll want to pretend like we’re friends. You’ll want to do friend things together and give me hugs and act like nothing bad ever  happened between us. And a childish part of me still wants that too, so I’ll bend a little. And then I’ll bend some more because I’m a good person and I don’t like saying no. And then I’ll bend even more because you are you and I am me and that’s what our relationship always was before, for seven years: you using and pushing and asking and me bending and bending and bending.

But I don’t want to bend.  I am standing and I am saying that I am angry. This place, which felt so wrong at first, has grown on me. There were times that I hid in my room and bawled my eyes out, because I hated this place. But it loved me still. It was patient and it let me adjust. It surrounded me, holding me in its traditions and its citizens and its scenery, waiting for me to realize what a resource I had in its presence. It has helped me grow and become a better person. I can be me here, but I can’t be me here with you.

Stay Gone,

M

Source: http://dearmeat.me/post/1416904916/dear-ex-friend

iRecommend: Dear Meat

Dear Meat is a site consisting of anonymously submitted letters. I love reading Dear Meat! It's fun, it's new, it's original. Plus, it's a nice and interesting way to keep up my English.

A paragraph from Dear Meat's introduction post:

Dear Meat is a collection of love and lust, depression and solitude, hate and spite, secrets and revelations, thoughts and philosophies, silliness and playful writing: verbosity to its greatest extent, when they’re all put together.

hubby (n) (informal) husband

side-splitting (j) extremely amusing, hilarious

side-splittingly (a)

glitch (v, n) a sudden, usually temporary malfunction or fault of equipment.

by courtesy of = given or allowed by

guile (n) sly or cunning intelligence

guileful (jl)

guileless (jl) devoid of guile; innocent and without deception

guilelessness (n)

devoid of (j) entirely lacking or free from

Given the choice, I would...

trauma

traumatic

traumatically

mood swings

gut feeling

gut instinct

gut (j) based on feelings and emotions rather than thoughts and reasons

not so much

hysteria

impact = collision

absorb