Sara complained that I wasn’t blogging enough, so here is a blogging.
This is a picture of me and some charming human beings I know (L-R: Claire, me, Alannah, Heini, Roisin) dressed as the Spice Girls. It took me two hours yesterday to paint that Union Jack onto a t-shirt. This morning I feel like absolute death.
In other news it seems I am one of the first to get the new Facebook profile layout, but one of the last to get the new Tumblr posting thing, which is fine by me.
In the process of writing this post, the leather bracelet I have worn since it was given to me by my then-girlfriend in the summer of 2008 (when I was 17, christ), has finally given up the ghost and broken off my wrist*. I feel like I should be finding this event symbolic or something, but I’m mainly just aware that my left wrist feels quite cold and naked, and that it’s probably a good thing because that shit was looking decrepit and pretty gross.
*Please note I am not as sentimental as this makes me seem - I mostly carried on wearing it because I just got used to it. Plus it was tied on tight enough to last five years, so I would have had to cut it off, and I’m exceptionally lazy.
I have to go to an a capella rehearsal now. But this has been a post.

Sara complained that I wasn’t blogging enough, so here is a blogging.

This is a picture of me and some charming human beings I know (L-R: Claire, me, Alannah, Heini, Roisin) dressed as the Spice Girls. It took me two hours yesterday to paint that Union Jack onto a t-shirt. This morning I feel like absolute death.

In other news it seems I am one of the first to get the new Facebook profile layout, but one of the last to get the new Tumblr posting thing, which is fine by me.

In the process of writing this post, the leather bracelet I have worn since it was given to me by my then-girlfriend in the summer of 2008 (when I was 17, christ), has finally given up the ghost and broken off my wrist*. I feel like I should be finding this event symbolic or something, but I’m mainly just aware that my left wrist feels quite cold and naked, and that it’s probably a good thing because that shit was looking decrepit and pretty gross.

*Please note I am not as sentimental as this makes me seem - I mostly carried on wearing it because I just got used to it. Plus it was tied on tight enough to last five years, so I would have had to cut it off, and I’m exceptionally lazy.

I have to go to an a capella rehearsal now. But this has been a post.

dailyotter:

Sea Otters Get Colored Ice Egg Treats for Easter at Monterey Bay Aquarium

Considering Easter is not a “thing” in my family (not only are we not religious, my mother has also never thought that encouraging my sister and I to eat chocolate is appropriate. Hard life etcetc), this otter video is my only celebration this year* and it is GLORIOUS and MAGNIFICENT and EVERYTHING.

*Except for the fact that I don’t live with my parents any more and can now buy all the Easter chocolate I want because adulthood.

(Source: dailyotter.org)

The “wives, sisters, daughters” line of argument comes up all the fucking time. President Obama even used it in his State of the Union address this year, saying,

“We know our economy is stronger when our wives, mothers, and daughters can live their lives free from discrimination in the workplace, and free from the fear of domestic violence.”

This device, which Obama has used on more than one occasion, is reductive as hell. It defines women by their relationships to other people, rather than as people themselves. It says that women are only important when they are married to, have given birth to, or have been fathered by other people. It says that women are only important because of who they belong to.

Women are not possessions.

Women are people.

The Believer Logger: I am not your wife, sister or daughter 

One of the most incisive responses to some of the rhetoric we’ve been hearing in the wake of the Steubenville rape verdict is this blog post over at The Belle Jar. (via drinkyourjuice)

This article is really really excellent and I recommend you all take five minutes to read and process and apply it to your lives.

(via christinefriar)

You know when you see something and it makes you laugh massive big belly laughs that actually sound like “HA HA HA HA” in real actual life?
Uh huh, that’s when you know that the person who made that happen is your best friend and you never ever want her to change a hair on her ridiculous head.

You know when you see something and it makes you laugh massive big belly laughs that actually sound like “HA HA HA HA” in real actual life?

Uh huh, that’s when you know that the person who made that happen is your best friend and you never ever want her to change a hair on her ridiculous head.

“The fundamentally conservative nature of the marriage contract is why, I think, younger conservatives are growing more supportive of same sex marriage. Extending marriage rights to LGBT people does little or nothing to address the structure of oppressive family laws and values in society. It also does very little to change the core of the conservative agenda which is, fundamentally, about power and control. This is evidenced by the fact that young conservatives are increasingly supportive of same-sex marriage at the same time that they continue to be champions of austerity who are deeply opposed to public funding of critical safety net programs. And many are terrible on issues of race, equating black and brown people with destructively out-of-control sexuality, crime, and government debt. So their attitudes about LGBT people may have changed, but their worldviews remain pretty much the same. They’ve just let monogamous same sex couples off the hook for certain societal problems, which is essentially what they’ve been doing all along for heterosexuals who marry.”

“Why I Support Same Sex Marriage as a Civil Right, but Not as a Strategy to Achieve Structural Change.” (via wertheyouth)

(via upworthy)

The Letter | Linda Gregg

I’m not feeling strong yet, but I am taking
good care of myself. The weather is perfect.
I read and walk all day and then walk to the sea.
I expect to swim soon. For now I am content.
I am not sure what I hope for. I feel I am
doing my best. It reminds me of when I was
sixteen dreaming of Lorca, the gentle trees outside
and the creek. Perhaps poetry replaces something
in me that others receive more naturally.
Perhaps my happiness proves a weakness in my life.
Even my failures in poetry please me.
Time is very different here. It is very good
to be away from public ambition.
I sweep and wash, cook and shop.
Sometimes I go into town in the evening
and have pastry with custard. Sometimes I sit
at a table by the harbor and drink half a beer.

(Source: muscovite, via colporteur)

It’s taboo to admit that you’re lonely. You can make jokes about it, of course. You can tell people that you spend most of your time with Netflix or that you haven’t left the house today and you might not even go outside tomorrow. Ha ha, funny. But rarely do you ever tell people about the true depths of your loneliness, about how you feel more and more alienated from your friends each passing day and you’re not sure how to fix it. It seems like everyone is just better at living than you are.

A part of you knew this was going to happen. Growing up, you just had this feeling that you wouldn’t transition well to adult life, that you’d fall right through the cracks. And look at you now. La di da, it’s happening.

Your mother, your father, your grandparents: they all look at you like you’re some prized jewel and they tell you over and over again just how lucky you are to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” your father tells you wearily.

You wish they’d stop saying these things to you because all it does is fill you with guilt and panic. All it does is remind you of how much you’re not taking advantage of your youth.

You want to kiss all kinds of different people, you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed maybe once or twice just to see if it feels good to feel nothing, you want to have a group of friends that feels like a tribe, a bonafide family. You want to go from one place to the next constantly and have your weekends feel like one long epic day. You want to dance to stupid music in your stupid room and have a nice job that doesn’t get in the way of living your life too much. You want to be less scared, less anxious, and more willing. Because if you’re closed off now, you can only imagine what you’ll be like later.

Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage.

Stop thinking that everyone is having more sex than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything.

I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it.

You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of shit doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it.

Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today?

We shall see.

You’re Not Making The Most Of Your 20s by Ryan O’Connell (via colporteur)

(Source: hidingfromoursins, via colporteur)

thecatwhisperer:

December 5, 2012 screening of Life of Pi at the Piscine Pailleron in Paris, France

Dates I would like to go on: this one.

YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME. THIS IS EVEN THE POOL THAT PI IS NAMED AFTER.

I honestly am unable to express how perfect and smart and wonderful this idea is, or exactly how much jealousy and revulsion I have for the people who got to experience it. Bastards.

marshmallowsandcake:

Me too

I just handed in the second of this week’s two essays, and this bunny knows what’s up.

marshmallowsandcake:

Me too

I just handed in the second of this week’s two essays, and this bunny knows what’s up.

(Source: iamawaterlily, via faisonslamour)

“Pope Benedict XVI officially ending his pontificate last night with a final public appearance at the Vatican in which he told the crowd that he would now “simply be a pilgrim”. He bade them “thank you and goodnight” and flew to his weekend retreat by helicopter.”

- Maybe I don’t know a lot about the life of pilgrims, but does anyone else see a glaring incongruity in this?

(Source: theweek.co.uk)

It turns out procrastination is not typically a function of laziness, apathy or work ethic as it is often regarded to be. It’s a neurotic self-defense behavior that develops to protect a person’s sense of self-worth.

You see, procrastinators tend to be people who have, for whatever reason, developed to perceive an unusually strong association between their performance and their value as a person. This makes failure or criticism disproportionately painful, which leads naturally to hesitancy when it comes to the prospect of doing anything that reflects their ability — which is pretty much everything.

But in real life, you can’t avoid doing things. We have to earn a living, do our taxes, have difficult conversations sometimes. Human life requires confronting uncertainty and risk, so pressure mounts. Procrastination gives a person a temporary hit of relief from this pressure of “having to do” things, which is a self-rewarding behavior. So it continues and becomes the normal way to respond to these pressures.

Particularly prone to serious procrastination problems are children who grew up with unusually high expectations placed on them. Their older siblings may have been high achievers, leaving big shoes to fill, or their parents may have had neurotic and inhuman expectations of their own, or else they exhibited exceptional talents early on, and thereafter “average” performances were met with concern and suspicion from parents and teachers.

David Cain, “Procrastination Is Not Laziness” (via sociolab) (via thecatwhisperer)

I can’t tell if this is comforting (I’m not lazy, apathetic or have a poor work ethic, apparently!), or really worrying (I am neurotic because my parents had insanely high expectations for me! My self-worth is based on my success!)

I think this is probably just an attempt to rationalise my (definitely really real) laziness, apathy and poor work ethic, frankly.

Although admittedly all the other stuff is very much true as well.

HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT I’M DOING AT THE MOMENT?! THAT’S RIGHT, I’M PROCRASTINATING BY TRYING TO EXPLAIN WHY I PROCRASTINATE.

(Source: pawneeparksdepartment, via thecatwhisperer)

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