I am blessing you even in my last breath
It’s your life, quite possibly your only one. Still you find yourself having a vodka at three a.m., waiting for your pill to kick in, with time ticking through you and your own ghost already wandering among your rooms.
Michael Cunningham, By Nightfall (via feellng)
That’s one of the great things about music. You can sing a song to 85,000 people and they’ll sing it back for 85,000 different reasons.
Dave Grohl  (via meggannn)

One day you wake up and you’re twenty-three and you can’t remember what it feels like to be seventeen but you still cry to your Mum after a bad day and you look a little older but you don’t really feel it. One day you’re twenty-three and your great aunt is telling you how mature you look and how you grew a little taller, but inside you still remember sitting under the oak tree reading with no meetings tomorrow and no rent to pay, and the only thing you can think about is how at seventeen you thought at twenty-three you would know everything and now you can’t remember how you got from there to here, but seventeen year old you was wrong; because you only know some things and not everything.

You know that coffee tastes better in the mornings and your home isn’t your home anymore it’s ‘Mum and Dads’. You know your car needs servicing every six months and groceries are harder to do after break ups. She liked cookie dough and walnuts and strawberry flavoured milk and now every time you go to the store you can’t buy spaghetti without remembering it was a Friday night, and she kissed you for the first time and the heat from her skin could have set your entire place on fire. One day you’re twenty-three and you’re trying to explain to a seventeen year old all the mistakes you made so they won’t make them too, when all you really want is for someone to realise you still don’t have the first clue.

one day you’re 23 - c.p (via itsonlyyforever)

Wow.

(via chickkyyychickk)

zerotide:

mr-cappadocia:

No one else finds this AT ALL disconcerting? Not even a little bit?

Here’s why there is no media coverage, folks: because the media literally can’t get in there.

hoodfuturism:

artemiskaonai:

MAINSTREAM MEDIA WILL SAY THAT THE PROTESTERS STARTED THE VIOLENCE ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT. THIS IS NOT THE CASE AS PROVEN BY THE VIDEO ABOVE.

please watch this before its taken down

wintrsfells:

Petition to get John Green to write a book called ‘An Imperial Affliction’ under the alias of Peter Van Houten.

Stupid people…

divergentweirdo:

Stupid people watching tfios: “What the eff? Does Augustus die???” 

Me:

Language is a powerful thing, and it changes the way we view ourselves, and other people, in delightful and horrifying ways. Anyone with any knowledge of the military, or who pays attention to how the media talks about war, has likely caught on to this.

We don’t kill “people.” We kill “targets.” (Or japs or gooks or ragheads). We don’t kill “fifteen year old boys” but “enemy combatants” (yes, every boy 15 and over killed in drone strikes now is automatically listed as an enemy combatant. Not a boy. Not a child.).

And when we talk about “people” we don’t really mean “men and women.” We mean “people and female people.” We talk about “American Novelists” and “American Women Novelists.” We talk about “Teenage Coders” and “Lady Teenage Coders.”

And when we talk about war, we talk about soldiers and female soldiers.

Because this is the way we talk, when we talk about history and use the word “soldiers” it immediately erases any women doing the fighting. Which is it comes as no surprise that the folks excavating Viking graves didn’t bother to check whether the graves they dug up were male or female. They were graves swords in them. Swords are for soldiers. Soldiers are men.

It was years before they thought to even check the actual bones of the skeletons, instead of just saying, “Sword means dude!” and realized their mistake.

Women fought too.

In fact, women did all sorts of things we think they didn’t do. In the middle ages, they were doctors and sheriffs. In Greece they were… oh, sod it. Listen. Foz Meadows does a better job with all the linky-links, for those who desire “proof.” Let’s just put it this way: if you think there’s a thing – anything – women didn’t do in the past, you’re wrong. Women – now and then – even made a habit of peeing standing up. They wore dildos. So even things the funny-ha-ha folks immediately raise a hand to say, like: “It’s impossible women did X!” Well. They did it. Intersex women and trans women, too, have fought and died, often misgendered and forgotten, in the ranks of history. And let us remember, when we speak about women and men as if these are immutable, somehow “historical” categories, that there are those who have always lived and fought in the seams between things.

But none of those things fit our narrative. What we want to talk about are women in one capacity: their capacity as wife, mother, sister, daughter to a man. I see this in fiction all the time. I see it in books and TV. I hear it in the way people talk

Kameron Hurley “‘We Have Always Fought’: Challenging the ‘Women, Cattle, and Slaves’ Narrative (via inthenameoftheangel)
If a female student got drunk and had her car stolen the university would call the police. If she got drunk and had her computer stolen, they would call the police. If she got drunk and had her phone stolen, they would call the police. The fact that she was drunk would not even be factored in when assessing if a crime had been committed. But if she gets drunk and has her body invaded and her humanity stolen, school administrations are perplexed about what to do.

vaginawoolf:

coolator:

i wanna be one of those people who does yoga at sunrise and drinks water out of mason jars filled with berries and twigs and shit