This is What the Living Do

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132,126 notes

if my son was gay

son:
mom, i'm gay.
me:
thank you for telling me, i still love you no matter what. now what do you want for dinner?
AND THAT WOULD BE IT. THAT'S THE END. I WOULDN'T MAKE HIM WATCH GLEE WITH ME. I WOULDN'T SHIP HIM WITH HIS FRIENDS. I WOULD SUPPORT HIM AND THEN THINGS WOULD GO AS NORMAL. BECAUSE TREATING YOUR HOMOSEXUAL CHILD LIKE A TOY DOES NOT MAKE HIM/HER EQUAL, IT STILL SEPARATES THEM FROM EVERYONE ELSE. I WOULD HOPE YOU WOULD TREAT YOUR OWN SON AS A PERSON AND NOT LIKE A CHARACTER ON TELEVISION.

Filed under thank you so fucking tired of those posts

4,016 notes

mr223:

“After years together, he handed her a book. It was her favorite book, “Neverwhere” by Neil Gaiman. She opened to the first page to find a note. “Hello Ashley… Out of interest, what would you say to marrying Brad? – Neil Gaiman” And just like that, they were engaged.”

(Source: rm322, via ashtraysandmisconceptions)

5,995 notes

formerlyconstantinople:

ssfrostiron:

thank. i’ve been trying to crush that soul all week

(Source: marvelized, via oh-so-pleasant)

31,300 notes

Once again, Caucasian does not mean white, and using it to mean white is actually racist.

There are real Caucasian people who live in the Caucasus region, and they are not white.

omfgcate on this post

Learn stuff!

(via writeworld)

(via scribbly-wibbly-stuff)

158,011 notes



“My local library branch started doing this “Blind Date with a Book” thing, thought you guys might like it. The shelf was full when we got there, but was like this as we were leaving. The books are wrapped in paper and have different designs on them, and then a few words vaguely describing the subject matter of the book. Things like “Drama”, “Plot Twists”, “espionage”, etc. The only thing exposed on the book is the barcode that you use to scan the book out. I thought it was a pretty cool idea.”

“My local library branch started doing this “Blind Date with a Book” thing, thought you guys might like it. The shelf was full when we got there, but was like this as we were leaving. The books are wrapped in paper and have different designs on them, and then a few words vaguely describing the subject matter of the book. Things like “Drama”, “Plot Twists”, “espionage”, etc. The only thing exposed on the book is the barcode that you use to scan the book out. I thought it was a pretty cool idea.”

(via wholmesianmisfit)

65,036 notes

Stand naked in front of a mirror for a long time, under unflattering light if possible. Trace the rises and falls of the little ripples on your skin — the scars, the dimples, the cellulite — and think about how much you try to hide these things in your day-to-day. Wonder why you hate them so much, and if this hate stems from somewhere within yourself, or as a result of being told all your life that it’s wrong to have physical flaws. Wonder what you would think of your body if you never looked at a magazine, if you never thought about celebrities and models, if you never had to wonder where someone would rate you on a scale of 10. Look at yourself until the initial recoil softens, and you can consider your features in a more forgiving frame of mind.

Listen to the music which makes you want to both sob and dance with uninhibited joy, and allow yourself to repeat any song you want as many times as your heart desires. Think of the person you are when you have your favorite song in your headphones and are walking down a street you feel you own completely, swaying your hips and smiling for no good reason — remember how many things you love about yourself during those moments, how much you are willing to forgive in yourself, how confident you are for no good reason. Try to think of confidence as a gift you give yourself when you need it, instead of something you have to siphon from every unreliable source in your life. Dance because the music makes you remember how much you love yourself, not because it allows you to forget the fact that you don’t.

Write a list of all the things you like about yourself, even if you think it’s a self-indulgent and narcissistic activity. Start as early as you like in your life — put down that time you won a trophy playing little league soccer when you were eight and then got an extra-large shake at the DQ on the way home, and don’t feel silly for remembering it. Try to understand how many sources in your life happiness can come from, how many things you could be proud of if you chose to. Ask yourself why you so tightly limit the things you take pride in, why you set your own hurdles for happiness and fulfillment so much higher than you do with anyone else in your life. Let your list go on for pages and pages if you want it to.

Touch and care for yourself with the attention and the patience that you would someone you loved more than life itself. Rub lotion in small circles on your elbows and hands when it is cold and your skin is dry and cracked. Make soup for yourself when your nose is running and curl up, with your favorite movie, in a pile of expertly-stacked pillows. Light a few candles and let their glow flicker against your body. Admire how gentle they are, how delicately their warmth touches you — wonder why you don’t let yourself do the same. Soak your feet in warm water at the end of a long day, until they have forgiven you for walking on them for so long without so much as a ‘thank you.’ Listen to your body when it aches to be touched, and don’t be afraid to give it every orgasm that you may have been too ashamed to ask for in someone else’s bed.

Be patient with yourself, and don’t worry if a switch doesn’t flip in you which abruptly takes you from ‘crippling self-doubt’ to ‘uncompromising self-love.’ Allow yourself all the trepidation and clumsy, uneven infatuation that you would with a promising stranger. Try only to be kinder, to be softer, and to remember all of the things within you which are worth loving. Listen to the voice in the back of your head which tells you, as much out of sadness as anger, ‘You are ugly. You are stupid. You are boring.’ Give it the fleeting moment of attention it so craves, and then remind it, ‘Even if that were true, I’d still be worth loving.’
Chelsea Fagan, How To Fall In Love With Yourself   (via crowcrow)

(Source: larmoyante, via redwrenwalking)