anemptygrave:

livelyspaghetti:

When I tell people to delete anon hate, to not publish it, it’s not me saying “ignore it and it’ll stop; don’t fight back.” It is 100% petty and spiteful. Honestly, I can’t think of anything better than the person who sent the hate obsessively checking your blog and refreshing and refreshing, waiting for you to reply, and getting increasingly frustrated when the ask they so masterfully crafted never pops up & you just keep posting cute pictures of your pets and talking about how nice your day was.

THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS!!!

Like many, I have found the American elections triggering and excruciating. I have sat for days fixated on a feed of pain and terror scrolling before my eyes. I see the flood of calls for action and organized resistance: the ever-growing lists of numbers to call and email (senators, governors, mayors, the media, etc.) and organizations to donate to; the petitions to call out family members and friends; the protests and rallies to attend; and everything else presented with the same level of urgency. My mind fragments with information overload: the guides, the think pieces, the memes, the latest reports of fuckduggery.

But how can I be of any help to any cause when I’m truly mentally sick? When a good portion of my time and energy has been focused on resisting the desire to kill myself? How do I resist feelings of worthlessness and despair when I feel worthless in supporting the cause right now?

cwote:

It’s not stupid. I promise. It’s not stupid to turn into your 5 year old self and get happy beyond measure for the little things. It’s not stupid to be proud of yourself for completing a load of laundry and washing the dishes. You aren’t lame for patting yourself on the back when you chose a salad over a burger. You’re taking care of yourself and each victory – no matter how small – is worth celebrating. 

Let the Record Show

brendaonao3:

fangirlonarampage:

iwishtoremainanoym:

yobaba2point0:

Let the record show that I did not consent to this.

Let
it show that I did not vote for this man, that he did/does not represent
me, that I do not believe he was deserving of being here, that I
grieved his ascension.

Let
History record my objection to him, to the ways he humiliated women and
vilified Muslims and threatened protestors and disregarded people of
color.

Let
it record my repulsion at his tremendous cruelty, his lack of
compassion, his contempt for dissension, his absence of simple decency.

Let
witnesses mark down my disgust at the way he boasted of infidelity, at
how he ridiculed a disabled reporter, at the way he attacked female
opponents for their appearance, at the way he marginalized immigrants.

Let
it be remembered that I did not look the other way when women accused
him of assault, when the reality of his Russian alliances came to light,
when he refused to share his tax records—though large portions of the
American media and its people chose to.  

Let
it be remembered that I did not buy into the fear that he perpetuated
of those with brown skin or hijabs or foreign birthplaces.

Let the
record show that I looked on with disbelief as he spent countless early
morning and middle-of-the-night hours following the election on social
media, broadcasting a steady stream of petulant, insecure, incoherent
messages instead of preparing to do a job he was ill-equipped for and
seemingly not all that interested in.

Let
the record show that I watched him assemble a Cabinet of billionaires
and bigots, of people woefully unqualified to steward our children, our
safety, our healthcare, our financial stability—and that I was horrified
by it all.

Let
it be remembered that my faith would not allow me to fall in line
behind this man while so many professed religious people did; that I saw
nothing resembling Jesus in him, and that to declare him Christian would have been to toss aside everything I grew up believing faith in Christ manifested in a life.  

Let
History record my grieving at the racism and bigotry and homophobia
that characterized his campaign, marked his supporters, and is evident
in his assembling Administration.

Let
it be known that I was one of the more than 65 million people who voted
for Hillary Clinton; who understood that though flawed, she was an
intelligent, experienced, passionate public servant with the
temperament, commitment, and qualifications to lead and lead well.

Let
the record show that I greatly lamented the day of his inauguration,
and that I promised to join together with other good people to loudly
resist and oppose every unscrupulous, dangerous, unjust and dishonest
act this new Administration engages in.

History has been littered with horrible people who did terrible things with power, because too many good people remained silent. And
since my fear is that we are surely entering one of those periods in
our story, I wanted to make sure that I was recorded for posterity:

I do not believe this man is normal.
I do not believe he is emotionally stable.
I do not believe he cares about the full, beautiful diversity of America.
I do not believe he respects women.
I do not believe he is pro-life other than his own.
I do not believe the sick and the poor and the hurting matter to him in the slightest.
I do not believe he is a man of faith or integrity or nobility.
I do not believe his concern is for anything outside his reflection in the mirror.

I believe he is a danger to our children.
I believe he is a threat to our safety.
I believe he is careless with our people.
I believe he is reckless with his power.
I believe America will be less secure, less diverse, less compassionate, and less decent under his leadership.

And if I prove to be wrong, it will be one of the most joyful errors of my life. I
will own these words and if necessary, willingly and gladly admit my
misjudgment because it will mean that America is a better and stronger
nation, and the world a more peaceful place.

But right now I don’t see that happening.

Right
now I am worried for my country, concerned for our planet, scared for
the future of my children, and greatly saddened that 62 million
Americans seem okay with all of this.

Let the record show that I was and am not okay with it.

Not at all.

Anyone following me, please reblog this. It needs to have a much higher view than this. 

Me.

Co-signed

Let the Record Show

softtrade:

atlafan96:

softtrade:

Not to put the cart ahead of the horse because we’re in survival mode right now, but like I think in terms of a pragmatic policy shift that we should at some point take up is taking gender off of legal documentation.

I’m up for replacing it with assigned sex at birth, that would basically do the same thing for medical reasons, but would it help with those who share a unique gender identity?

No that is the wrong direction. Like that makes my life infinitely more dangerous than the situation now.

There is no good medical reason to have gender on all of our identity documentation; there is potentially even less to put ASAB on there. My body does not (completely) work like a cis man nor a cis woman’s.

My entire point is that like as opposed to like trying to accommodate every gender and having the government control those systems, we need to deconstruct legal gender as a violent system of power and state surveillance.

YA Was Better In The Old Days

elidyce:

There are times when I really feel that modern girls are being ripped off in their YA. I grew up reading old WWII era Stories for Girls inherited from my grandmother and mother and let me tell you, restrictive gender roles and all, they let girls do more stuff than most of the current crop. And a lot of them were written around Girls Finding Their Calling rather than Girls Finding Their True Love.

For example:

In ‘A Friend for Frances’, Frances has to deal with the realities of being from a poor farming family and convince her parents to spend extra money on letting her go to a good school. She succeeds! She finds a best friend, learns about working hard to achieve your dreams, and ends the book a) all set to pursue her dream of gardening as a career and b) going to Holland to see the tulips because flowers are kind of her life. The only dudes involved in the story are her father, her brother, her best friend’s semi-present father and the Curmudgeon With A Heart Of Gold who gives her an after-school job.

In ‘Nancy Calls The Tune’, Nancy is a gifted musician and trained organist who takes a job in a church to free up the male organist to enlist and Do His Duty. Nancy and her housemate get jobs, work hard, Nancy helps maintain morale for the whole village and meets a nice man who respects her work-ethic and the housemate coerces a pilot into taking her over the channel to rescue her sister who is trapped Behind Enemy Lines. Some of the Patriotic Yay War Boo Cowardice stuff is pretty on the nose, but it still had a lot of Girls Doing Things.

In the entirety of the Swallows and Amazons series the girls were absolutely as competent as the boys when it came to sailing, exploring, and Making Up Cool Shit, and significantly more competent in the areas of cooking, supervising younger siblings, and making fires that wouldn’t go right out. It’s stated repeatedly in text that Susan, the ‘domestic one’, is the only reason they’re allowed to do most of it because she’s the one the parents can count on to make sure that Meals, Bedtime And Basic First Aid are applied at appropriate times. The assorted parents make it very clear to all the kids that John and Nancy may be the ships’ captains but SUSAN IS IN CHARGE IF YOU DISOBEY HER YOU WILL NEVER CAMP AGAIN.

‘The Daring Of Daryl’ features Daryl who is just SO EXCITED TO GO TO BOARDING SCHOOL THAT SHE RIDES A TRAINED BULL TO THE STATION RATHER THAN MISS THE TRAIN. An actual bull. Usual school story hijinks ensue, but I remember the book fondly to this day for Daryl’s almost Australian eagerness to embrace personal danger and sports. Again, very few dudes. 

It’s a bit older, but ‘Rilla of Ingleside’ is to this day one of the only WWI novels not only centered around almost exclusively female characters, but about girls who were at home, trying to cope with rationing and fundraising and answering the phone when any call might be to inform them of a death in the family. Rilla, a slightly spoiled teenager when the story opens, pulls her socks up and grimly soldiers on throughout. She raises money, knits socks, tries to keep her parents spirits up as their sons enlist one after another, somehow holds the family together when one of her brothers dies, and – with nobody blinking an eye – at fifteen adopts a war baby whose mother has died and whose father is overseas and takes care of it until the father comes back. There is a romance, but given that he’s also at war most of the time you don’t see much of him.

‘Dragon Island’ featured three girls who were shipwrecked (if I remember right) on an island with a significant komodo dragon population. They survived and didn’t get eaten and were generally plucky and good at problem-solving. They fished, scavenged, built shelters, all the good stuff. No romance unless you shipped the girls and let me tell you I did.

And there were innumerable Girl’s Own Stories and Girl’s Annuals and Girls Own Adventures in which girls scaled cliffs, captured spies, raised money for charities, thwarted evil capitalists trying to take the family farm, rode horses, saved injured animals, learned instruments, bested bullies, befriended strangers, went to sea, hiked up mountains, found treasure, put on shows, won scholarships, helped old people, won academic prizes, put out fires, and generally MADE FRIENDS WITH GIRLS AND DID ALL THE THINGS.

And every time I pick up a modern YA there’s at least one boy mentioned on the cover and Is It True Love and I just really miss the days when plucky, independent girls named Kate or Debbie or Susan or Abigail or Samantha were allowed to wear sensible shoes and pursue wildly varying hobbies and careers and solve their own problems that did not center around boys. Boys frequently did not even intrude on the narrative except as Annoying Brothers or Helpful Stable Hands.

I grew up reading stories in which heroines were expected to be plucky, tough, resourceful, independent, good at problem solving, unafraid of hard work and good human beings. My daughter is growing up reading stories about girls who fall in love and maybe, like, do some other stuff. I do not like this trend.

TLDR: I am old people and stories for girls were better in my day because there weren’t so many dang boys in them and also girls were allowed to do more things.

Extroverted Introverts: Ten things to know

intjfemale:

Also known as an ambivert, an extroverted introvert is someone who exhibits qualities of both introversion and extroversion.

1. Their spot on the spectrum changes with their environment.

Your ambivert friend may be loud and gregarious around their family,
but quiet and thoughtful at the office. Seeing them in both situations
may feel like meeting two entirely different people.

2. Talking to strangers is fine – but don’t expect them to keep it to small talk.

Although an ambivert can hold up their end of a
conversation, talking
about the weather will not be enough to engage them. Their social energy
is
limited enough that they won’t want to waste it on meaningless chatter.
They will likely push the conversation into deeper territory or bow out

entirely.

3. They like to be alone – they don’t like to be lonely.

There is a big difference between the two. Choosing to sit at home
with a tub of ice cream and a book feels fantastic. Sitting at
home because nobody called them back feels sad and lame.

4. Getting them out of the house can be a challenge.

If you catch your friend on a highly introverted day, you may just be
better off leaving them at home. They might manage to be social, but they’ll
just be thinking about their books and their couch the whole time.

5. If they’re new, you can find them in the back of the room.

An introverted extrovert will approach new situations with cautious
excitement. If they know someone in the group, they will likely cling to
them a bit as they become comfortable. If they do not, they might waver on the
edge of the crowd, slowly getting used to the water rather than jumping
in all at once.

6. They’re selectively social.

They don’t mean to be snobs. They just have limited social energy and
prefer interacting one-on-one or in small groups. For this reason, they
can only afford to invest their social time and energy in those who they
feel truly connected to.

7. Making friends is easy. Keeping them is hard.

They like talking to people, but they value their alone-time, as well. This
can make maintaining a friendship tricky. If your ambivert friend makes
an effort to consistently invest time and energy in your friendship, be
glad. You are truly special to them.

8. Their social desires change with the breeze.

They might be desperate to hang out with you on Friday, but then not
answer your call on Saturday. They’re not mad at you. They’re just super
comfortable in bed watching films.

9. They can talk to you for hours.

If you manage to catch them in a one-on-one situation, an extroverted
introvert will just not shut up. Once their interest is engaged, there’s
no stopping them.

10. Listening is great too, though.

Sometimes they want to be a part of the action, but their social energy
levels are too low for them to contribute in a meaningful way. Listening
allows them to get to know you without burning up their social fuel. They also
know its value from their chattier moments when they are desperate for an
ear.

direhuman:

Executive dysfunction is like all of your abilities are on cooldown and you’re mashing buttons to try to do anything but your brain is just like “i can’t do that yet. that’s still recharging. i can’t do that yet. that spell isn’t ready yet. that’s still recharging.”