Hi, this is life.

thoughts, opinions & obsessions of a nomadic wanderer navigating the wastelands of postmodernism.

prpltnkr:

anarcha-pie:

recoveriesangel:

People need to read this

The justice system protects rapists. This is rape culture. This is why most rapists are not convicted. This is why there is a “false allegations” statistic.

The “”“justice”“” system at work.
As I am fond of saying, the legal system is ABSOLUTELY NOT concerned with what is right or wrong, merely what is legal or illegal. It literally has no moral compass, and often it doesn’t even make sense.

prpltnkr:

anarcha-pie:

recoveriesangel:

People need to read this

The justice system protects rapists. This is rape culture. This is why most rapists are not convicted. This is why there is a “false allegations” statistic.

The “”“justice”“” system at work.

As I am fond of saying, the legal system is ABSOLUTELY NOT concerned with what is right or wrong, merely what is legal or illegal. It literally has no moral compass, and often it doesn’t even make sense.

(via swingsetindecember)

artmonia:

The creations by Dangerdust a duo of students who have decided to anonymously requisition the blackboards of their school, to offer every Monday morning a new creation combining inspiration, motivation and typography on blackboard.

(via whiteroads)

vincentvillella:

As an art student, you’re hit over the head repeatedly with Renaissance art, so I’ve gotten a little tired of it, but something I’m not tired of is the seemingly impossible naturalistic detail attained from stone and a chisel back then.

(Source: vasilisablue, via artekka)

fishingboatproceeds:

phampants:

The Fault In Our Stars is among The Atlantic’s 21 most anticipated films for 2014.

TFIOS is my son Henry’s second most anticipated film of 2014, behind only HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2.
Here are some of Henry’s thoughts on HTTYD2:
"I bet it’s gonna have dragons in it."
"Some dragons got fire."
"Some dragons got hot acid and they spit it."
"Hiccup is gonna get the dragons down."
"Dragons are bad guys less you train them."
"It’s gonna be in a movie theater. With popcorn in it."
"We can go but only if you get M&Ms. The peanut ones."

fishingboatproceeds:

phampants:

The Fault In Our Stars is among The Atlantic’s 21 most anticipated films for 2014.

TFIOS is my son Henry’s second most anticipated film of 2014, behind only HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2.

Here are some of Henry’s thoughts on HTTYD2:

"I bet it’s gonna have dragons in it."

"Some dragons got fire."

"Some dragons got hot acid and they spit it."

"Hiccup is gonna get the dragons down."

"Dragons are bad guys less you train them."

"It’s gonna be in a movie theater. With popcorn in it."

"We can go but only if you get M&Ms. The peanut ones."

That's "Queen Bitch" to You

citrine8:

falsecatalyst:

thehappysorceress:

bridiebird:

Last week, I walked into a gas station wearing a slinky red dress.

My friends and I were on our way to a dance; we needed gas; I walked into a gas station wearing a slinky red dress.

It was a test, obviously.

I knew there would be stares, knew there would be comments. This is what happens, when you are female-bodied and you wear a red dress at night. Men stare, and they comment, because obviously you are wearing that dress so they can look at you! Why would you wear a dress – especially a slinky dress, especially a red dress – if you didn’t want to be stared at?

Head up, eyes forward, absolute refusal to acknowledge the eyes raking me up and down. Don’t make eye contact. Eye contact is an invitation to approach.

Of course, not everyone waits for an invitation. 

“Daaaamn girl, you look good in that dress,” says a man as I walk past him to the waiting car. I don’t turn, don’t make eye contact, don’t smile, don’t acknowledge him in anyway. Acknowledgement is an invitation to escalate.

This guy, he’s really not all about the invitations.

“What, you can’t say ‘thank you,’ bitch?”

Not a recommended response for safety reasons. But oh, it would feel so good.

I keep walking, to my car, to my friends, to safety. If they were not waiting for me, I might not have had the option of being a bitch. If the lot were a little less well-lit, my car a little farther away, I would not have had the luxury of dignity and aloofness. I would have had to smile at this man as he commented on my body, appease him, try to walk that impossible line between not-inviting and not-antagonizing. The line that women walk every time they navigate public spaces, the line that men have never once had to consider, the line that in all reality does not exist because the men who harass us don’t give a flying fuck what signals of interest or non-interest we’re sending out.

I used to walk a lot further on the not-antagonizing side of the Bullshit Line. I had a horror of being rude, of hurting someone’s feelings. I had been trained in a thousand ways to smooth over any situation, at the expense of my own comfort and safety. So I followed the “rules,” illustrated brilliantly by Harriet Jay in her “Another Post About Rape.

“You could flirt back a little, look meek, not talk, not move away. You might have to put up with a lot more talking, you might have to put up with him trying to ask you out to lunch every day, you might even have to go out to lunch with him. You might have to deal with him copping a feel. But he won’t turn violent on you, and neither will the spectators who have watched him browbeat you into a frightened and flirtatious corner.”

Following the rules is meant to offer us protection. Protection from the unpredictable violence of strange men, as long as we appease them. Protection from the censure and ostracization of those around us, as long as we don’t cause a scene by having emotions or enforcing our boundaries.

Protection – until the man we have let inside our boundaries rapes us, and all of a sudden following the rules is used as proof that we didn’t say “No” loud enough, so it wasn’t really rape.

For every time she lowered her voice, let go of a boundary, didn’t move away, let her needs be conveniently misinterpreted, and was given positive reinforcement and a place in society, she is now being told that all that was wrong, this one time, and she should have known that, duh.

I have given my phone number to a man who creeped me out, only to have him call me incessantly for two weeks until a male friend answered and told him to fuck off. I have smiled and laughed uncomfortably with an old man on the bus as his friendly chat suddenly came to involve references to my “cute little butt” and revelations about how he waited to get on the bus until he saw which one I was getting on. I have moved a man’s hands gently off my body, over and over, laughing to soften the rejection, to not offend, until at the end of the night he tried to forcibly drag me onto a dark beach.

So now I’m a bitch.

I don’t make eye contact. I don’t smile. My body language is guarded, closed off, aloof. When men approach me, I shut the conversation down or move away as quickly and unambiguously as possible.

The bitch approach is not any safer than the appeasement approach. The specter of male violence is a real threat, as the experience of this woman so vividly illustrates.  And we can never, ever, count on bystanders to come to our defense.

On a Sunday morning last year, I went into a grocery store wearing yoga pants.

My friends and I were making brunch; we needed bread and eggs; I went into a grocery store wearing yoga pants.

Their asses are a ten, but their torsos are, like, a zero.

We were standing in the checkout line. A man got in line behind us, and started talking to his friend about my body. How fine my ass was. How much he’d like to see it jiggle in a g-string. How many dollar bills he’d throw at it. How much he wanted to take shots off the freckles on my neck.

I stood with my back to him, hands clenched, stomach knotted, shaking with fury. Acknowledgement is an invitation to escalate. Do not turn around. If you say anything it will only get worse. It will get worse and it will be your fault. What were you thinking, wearing yoga pants to the grocery store?

And then this asshole started on my freckles. My freckles. They’re on my neck, a part of my body that feels so vulnerable, that feels innocent and worthy of protection in a way my other curves never have. When he started talking about my freckles I felt violated in a new and horrible way, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can hear you,” I snapped, whirling around to face the man I had yet to even see.

As if these things would have been okay to say if I couldn’t hear them? If only I had found the right words. Then, he would have backed down. Then, the crowd around us would have come to my defense.

He laughed in my face. “What? If you thick, you thick. I’m just saying what I see.” His friend – a woman – laughs in my face as well.

The people behind us in checkout line watch, silent. My friends, standing before me in the checkout aisle, watch, silent.

“You need to stop. Right. Now.” I grit through my teeth.

“Don’t need to be stuck-up about it. If you thick, you thick,” he says again. He is grinning. He has won and I have lost and we both know it. He is a man and I am a woman and I have no right to my own body in public spaces. Not if I’m thick.

I turn around because I can feel tears starting and I don’t want him to see them. He is about to start in again when friends of his show up. “Let’s go,” he says. “Some stuck-up bitches here in this aisle.”

I have this to say to the man in the grocery store. To the man outside the gas station. To every man on every bus and every street corner who has stolen my time and violated my space and passed judgment on my body as if it is yours to approve of and consume:

Fuck you.

I do not owe you anything. My body is mine, and if claiming it as my own makes me a bitch, then so be it. I will be a bitch until the day I die.

If I could find a way to shout this post to the Heavens, I would.

Many men have my phone number, because I am to afraid to tell them no.

^^^^^

(via size10plz)

ungyo:

(x)

Saw the video floating around so I gif’d it for anyone who doesn’t wanna actually watch it haha.

(Source: apocalypsecanceled, via size10plz)

grimmromance:

what i mean when i say “i can’t do that” - the depression edition

  • i am unable to do that 
  • i don’t have the energy to do that
  • i cannot wrap my head around what you’re asking me to do
  • there is too much in my head right now
  • i can not do that 

what people hear: 

  • i am unwilling to do that
  • i am being stubborn for no reason
  • i am being dramatic
  • i am lazy
  • i need you to repeat that only louder
  • i need a push
  • i don’t want to do that 

(via size10plz)

melissasoup:

writeswrongs:

tony-starked:

rabbleprochoice:

gynocraticgrrl:

Tough Guise: Violence, Media & The Crisis in Masculinity

with Ed. M, Ph.D Jackson Katz

Same for mass shootings which are almost entirely done by white males.

If it was done by, literally, ANYONE ELSE of any other race or gender, I can’t even IMAGINE the shit that would be said by people.

I read somewhere, someone had this theory that the reason shootings are mainly committed by white males is because when women or poc feel alienated, depressed, etc, we are trained to keep it to ourselves, whereas white men are raised with a sense of entitlement that allows them to make their own problems everyone’s problem.

I wonder if it is true for shooting or for road rage or both or neither.

the bolded!

This is a really good documentary.

(via size10plz)

“You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, put a mirror in her hand and you called the painting “Vanity,” thus morally condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for you own pleasure.”

(Source: gayathrik1611, via size10plz)

teschazilla:

consulting-idjits-in-the-tardis:

yuunopatsu:

spoon-party-of-durin:

The Hobbit Dubstep (Misty Mountains Cold) Remix

SWEET LORD OF THE RINGS ARAGORN FUCK ME DEAD THAT IS FUCKING MAGNIFICENT 

image

i think i had a heart attack when i heard ‘precious’

SOURCE. DOWNLOAD. PLS. I NEED THIS.

(Source: digivice, via )

“Writing Advice: by Chuck Palahniuk

In six seconds, you’ll hate me.
But in six months, you’ll be a better writer.

From this point forward—at least for the next half year—you may not use “thought” verbs. These include: Thinks, Knows, Understands, Realizes, Believes, Wants, Remembers, Imagines, Desires, and a hundred others you love to use.

The list should also include: Loves and Hates.
And it should include: Is and Has, but we’ll get to those later.

Until some time around Christmas, you can’t write: Kenny wondered if Monica didn’t like him going out at night…”

Instead, you’ll have to Un-pack that to something like: “The
mornings after Kenny had stayed out, beyond the last bus, until he’d had to bum a ride or pay for a cab and got home to find Monica faking sleep, faking because she never slept that quiet, those mornings, she’d only put her own cup of coffee in the microwave. Never his.”

Instead of characters knowing anything, you must now present the details that allow the reader to know them. Instead of a character wanting something, you must now describe the thing so that the reader wants it.

Instead of saying: “Adam knew Gwen liked him.” You’ll have to say: “Between classes, Gwen had always leaned on his locker when he’d go to open it. She’s roll her eyes and shove off with one foot, leaving a black-heel mark on the painted metal, but she also left the smell of her perfume. The combination lock would still be warm from her butt. And the next break, Gwen would be leaned there, again.”

In short, no more short-cuts. Only specific sensory detail: action, smell, taste, sound, and feeling.

Typically, writers use these “thought” verbs at the beginning of a paragraph (In this form, you can call them “Thesis Statements” and I’ll rail against those, later). In a way, they state the intention of the paragraph. And what follows, illustrates them.

For example:
“Brenda knew she’d never make the deadline. was backed up from the bridge, past the first eight or nine exits. Her cell phone battery was dead. At home, the dogs would need to go out, or there would be a mess to clean up. Plus, she’d promised to water the plants for her neighbor…”

Do you see how the opening “thesis statement” steals the thunder of what follows? Don’t do it.

If nothing else, cut the opening sentence and place it after all the others. Better yet, transplant it and change it to: Brenda would never make the deadline.

Thinking is abstract. Knowing and believing are intangible. Your story will always be stronger if you just show the physical actions and details of your characters and allow your reader to do the thinking and knowing. And loving and hating.

Don’t tell your reader: “Lisa hated Tom.”

Instead, make your case like a lawyer in court, detail by detail.

Present each piece of evidence. For example: “During roll call, in the breath after the teacher said Tom’s name, in that moment before he could answer, right then, Lisa would whisper-shout ‘Butt Wipe,’ just as Tom was saying, ‘Here’.”

One of the most-common mistakes that beginning writers make is leaving their characters alone. Writing, you may be alone. Reading, your audience may be alone. But your character should spend very, very little time alone. Because a solitary character starts thinking or worrying or wondering.

For example: Waiting for the bus, Mark started to worry about how long the trip would take…”

A better break-down might be: “The schedule said the bus would come by at noon, but Mark’s watch said it was already 11:57. You could see all the way down the road, as far as the Mall, and not see a bus. No doubt, the driver was parked at the turn-around, the far end of the line, taking a nap. The driver was kicked back, asleep, and Mark was going to be late. Or worse, the driver was drinking, and he’d pull up drunk and charge Mark seventy-five cents for death in a fiery traffic accident…”

A character alone must lapse into fantasy or memory, but even then you can’t use “thought” verbs or any of their abstract relatives.

Oh, and you can just forget about using the verbs forget and remember.

No more transitions such as: “Wanda remembered how Nelson used to brush her hair.”

Instead: “Back in their sophomore year, Nelson used to brush her hair with smooth, long strokes of his hand.”

Again, Un-pack. Don’t take short-cuts.

Better yet, get your character with another character, fast.
Get them together and get the action started. Let their actions and words show their thoughts. You—stay out of their heads.

And while you’re avoiding “thought” verbs, be very wary about using the bland verbs “is” and “have.”

For example:
“Ann’s eyes are blue.”

“Ann has blue eyes.”

Versus:

“Ann coughed and waved one hand past her face, clearing the cigarette smoke from her eyes, blue eyes, before she smiled…”

Instead of bland “is” and “has” statements, try burying your details of what a character has or is, in actions or gestures. At its most basic, this is showing your story instead of telling it.

And forever after, once you’ve learned to Un-pack your characters, you’ll hate the lazy writer who settles for: “Jim sat beside the telephone, wondering why Amanda didn’t call.”

Please. For now, hate me all you want, but don’t use thought verbs. After Christmas, go crazy, but I’d bet money you won’t.

(…)

For this month’s homework, pick through your writing and circle every “thought” verb. Then, find some way to eliminate it. Kill it by Un-packing it.

Then, pick through some published fiction and do the same thing. Be ruthless.

“Marty imagined fish, jumping in the moonlight…”

“Nancy recalled the way the wine tasted…”

“Larry knew he was a dead man…”

Find them. After that, find a way to re-write them. Make them stronger.

—   

(via 1000wordseveryday)

I need to go back to school.

(via cordeliagablewrites)inspiration

(via thescienceofobsession)

My learning is ofwficially insignificant. My writing minor and all those classes do not make me as qualified as reading this has.

(via kikukachan)

(Source: wingedbeastie, via swingsetindecember)