sirenknights:

yeah-youtubers:

This sign is in my doctors office above the scale and I really love it. It actually made me feel a lot better after reading it

Amazeballs.

sirenknights:

yeah-youtubers:

This sign is in my doctors office above the scale and I really love it. It actually made me feel a lot better after reading it

Amazeballs.

(Source: -teesa-, via bookoisseur)

danainthedogpark:

thatnanda:

baby-and-cakes:

gratuitoustext:

I only took one picture today. It was beautiful.

thatnanda
The spice rack!!!!!

ALL RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

danainthedogpark:

thatnanda:

baby-and-cakes:

gratuitoustext:

I only took one picture today. It was beautiful.

thatnanda

The spice rack!!!!!

ALL RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

(via fatbodypolitics)

dontbearuiner:

canmakedothink:

-teesa-:

9.2.14

PROTECT JESSICA WILLIAMS AT ALL COSTS.

She is the best.

(via brynnasaurus)

Those smiles are not a 90% approval rate. It’s just her way of trying to end this interaction. Because if she doesn’t smile, he might ask her to smile. If she asks him to leave her alone, he might call her a bitch. … Our walk to work is not for you to comment on; it’s not a red carpet, it’s not a fashion week—it’s a sidewalk. … Because, believe it or not, getting the horny clap of approval from guys does not improve my day—it actually creeps me out. So guys: get some impulse control, because I’ve got some shit to do.

Jessica Williams of The Daily Show on how catcalling affects women (via trappedinsuburbanhell)

smartgirlsattheparty:

All of Leslie’s compliments to Ann

Everyone needs a best friend :)

(Source: adumbscotts, via andeleh)

'My name is Robert but I would prefer that you call me Bob.' It's just like that. You know what I mean? And if you were to insist upon calling that person Robert, you would be a colossal dick.

Paul F. Tompkins, succinctly explaining why you call people what they want to be called, whether it’s “little people” or “transgender” or “chairperson” or “Bob”. It’s not about being politically correct and it’s not about you. It’s about basic decency and respect. (via ericmortensen)

(via becauseiamawoman)

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

I’m really glad I read that.

(via selfesteampunk)

(via lauriehalseanderson)

sirenknights:

Dice Shaming

(Source: sheldony, via weinersoldier)

I’ll never punish my daughter for saying no.

The first time it comes out of her mouth, I’ll smile gleefully. As she repeats “No! No! No!” I’ll laugh, overjoyed. At a young age, she’ll have mastered a wonderful skill. A skill I’m still trying to learn. I know I’ll have to teach her that she has to eat her vegetables, and she has to take a nap. But “No” is not wrong. It is not disobedience.

1. She will know her feelings are valid.
2. She will know that when I no longer guide her, she still has a right to refuse.

The first time a boy pulls her hair after she says no, and the teacher tells her “boys will be boys,” we will go to her together, and explain that my daughter’s body is not a public amenity. That boy isn’t teasing her because he likes her, he is harassing her because it is allowed. I will not reinforce that opinion. If my son can understand that “no means no” so can everyone else’s.

3. She owes no one her silence, her time, or her cooperation.

The first time she tells a teacher, “No, that is wrong,” and proceeds to correct his public school, biased rhetoric, I’ll revel in the fact that she knows her history; that she knows our history. The first time she tells me “No” with the purpose and authority that each adult is entitled, I will stop. I will apologize. I will listen.

4. She is entitled to her feelings and her space. I, even a a parent, have no right to violate them.
5. No one has a right to violate them.

The first time my mother questions why I won’t make her kiss my great aunt at Christmas, I’ll explain that her space isn’t mine to control. That she gains nothing but self doubt when she is forced into unwanted affection. I’ll explain that “no” is a complete sentence. When the rest of my family questions why she is not made to wear a dress to our reunion dinner. I will explain that her expression is her own. It provides no growth to force her into unnecessary and unwanted situation.

6. She is entitled to her expression.

When my daughter leaves my home, and learns that the world is not as open, caring, and supportive as her mother, she will be prepared. She will know that she can return if she wishes, that the real world can wait. She will not want to. She will not need to. I will have prepared her, as much as I can, for a world that will try to push her down at every turn.

7. She is her own person. She is complete as she is.

I will never punish my daughter for saying no. I want “No” to be a familiar friend. I never want her to feel that she cannot say it. She will know how to call on “No” whenever it is needed, or wanted.

Lessons I Will Teach, Because the World Will Not — Y.S. (via poetryinspiredbyyou)

(via becauseiamawoman)

thugkitchen:

I know you need caffeine sometimes but don’t even fucking think about reaching for a RedBull or 5-Hour Energy. I will slap that shit out of your hand so quick you won’t know whatthefuck happened. Energy drinks are toxic and fucking expensive. Money doesn’t grow on trees; coffee does. Don’t waste your time in a fucking line and spend your hard earned cash on something you can make while you’re sleeping. Cold brewed coffee is also way less acidic, making this easier on your stomach. SO GRAB A CUP OF THIS SIMPLE SHIT AND SEIZE THE GODDAMN DAY. 

COLD BREWED COFFEE
¾ cup ground coffee (whatever you got is fine)
3 ½ cups cold water
Put the coffee grounds in the bottom of a large container. If you like coffee with some fucking bite, add another ¼ cup of grounds. Slowly pour the water over the grounds and stir. Make sure all the grounds get wet because sometimes there are weird dry pockets and then you’re just wasting fucking coffee. Let this sit in the fridge (or on your counter if its not too fucking hot in your place) overnight or for at least 10 hours. In the morning, strain that shit using a mesh strainer. You know, the ones that look like a screen door. If you have the time, strain one more time through a paper coffee filter to get out the last of the grounds (or don’t and just deal with a couple rogue grounds in your drink). Serve over ice and with some almond milk if that’s your thing.
Makes about 3 ½ cups of coffee (triple this recipe and keep the extra in the fridge all week)

thugkitchen:

I know you need caffeine sometimes but don’t even fucking think about reaching for a RedBull or 5-Hour Energy. I will slap that shit out of your hand so quick you won’t know whatthefuck happened. Energy drinks are toxic and fucking expensive. Money doesn’t grow on trees; coffee does. Don’t waste your time in a fucking line and spend your hard earned cash on something you can make while you’re sleeping. Cold brewed coffee is also way less acidic, making this easier on your stomach. SO GRAB A CUP OF THIS SIMPLE SHIT AND SEIZE THE GODDAMN DAY.

COLD BREWED COFFEE

¾ cup ground coffee (whatever you got is fine)

3 ½ cups cold water

Put the coffee grounds in the bottom of a large container. If you like coffee with some fucking bite, add another ¼ cup of grounds. Slowly pour the water over the grounds and stir. Make sure all the grounds get wet because sometimes there are weird dry pockets and then you’re just wasting fucking coffee. Let this sit in the fridge (or on your counter if its not too fucking hot in your place) overnight or for at least 10 hours. In the morning, strain that shit using a mesh strainer. You know, the ones that look like a screen door. If you have the time, strain one more time through a paper coffee filter to get out the last of the grounds (or don’t and just deal with a couple rogue grounds in your drink). Serve over ice and with some almond milk if that’s your thing.

Makes about 3 ½ cups of coffee (triple this recipe and keep the extra in the fridge all week)

(Source: thugkitchen)

The problem that needs to be fixed is not kick all the girls out of YA, it’s teach boys that stories featuring female protagonists or written by female authors also apply to them. Boys fall in love. Boys want to be important. Boys have hopes and fears and dreams and ambitions. What boys also have is a sexist society in which they are belittled for “liking girl stuff.” Male is neutral, female is specific.

I heard someone mention that Sarah Rees Brennan’s THE DEMON’S LEXICON would be great for boys, but they’d never read it with that cover. Friends, then the problem is NOT with the book. It’s with the society that’s raising that boy. It’s with the community who inculcated that boy with the idea that he can’t read a book with an attractive guy on the cover.

Here’s how we solve the OMG SO MANY GIRLS IN YA problem: quit treating women like secondary appendages. Quit treating women’s art like it’s a niche, novelty creation only for girls. Quit teaching boys to fear the feminine, quit insisting that it’s a hardship for men to have to relate to anything that doesn’t specifically cater to them.

Because if I can watch Raiders of the Lost Ark and want to grow up to be an archaeologist, there’s no reason at all that a boy shouldn’t be able to read THE DEMON’S LEXICON with its cover on. My friends, sexism doesn’t just hurt women, and our young men’s abysmal rate of attraction to literacy is the proof of it.

If you want to fix the male literary crisis, here’s your solution:

Become a feminist.

The Problem is Not the Books, Saundra Mitchell (via silverstags)

OMG THIS THIS THIS THIS!!!!!

(via lez-brarian)

Aw fuck yeah!

(via yeahwriters)

(via bookoisseur)

rachelinbrooklyn:

Seriously.

(Source: sandandglass, via bookoisseur)

gohelloflo:

Is some aggressive guy hounding you for your number? Do you just want him to leave you alone but he won’t take “no” for an answer? The people behind Feminist Phone Intervention have got you covered. All you need to do is give the creep this phone number instead of your own: (669) 221-6251.
What does this fabulous service do? If the jerk calls or texts the line, he’ll be met with an automatically-generated quotation from feminist writer Bell Hooks. That’s right: The perp will be schooled in Feminism 101.
Society talks a lot about how the Internet is full of junk. But Feminist Phone Intervention proves it can be used for a whole lot of good.

gohelloflo:

Is some aggressive guy hounding you for your number? Do you just want him to leave you alone but he won’t take “no” for an answer? The people behind Feminist Phone Intervention have got you covered. All you need to do is give the creep this phone number instead of your own: (669) 221-6251.

What does this fabulous service do? If the jerk calls or texts the line, he’ll be met with an automatically-generated quotation from feminist writer Bell Hooks. That’s right: The perp will be schooled in Feminism 101.

Society talks a lot about how the Internet is full of junk. But Feminist Phone Intervention proves it can be used for a whole lot of good.