I dunno, just laying face down on the couch and waiting for some baby boomers to die, I guess
Millennials, when asked about plans for the future (via alwaysfaithfulterriblelizard)

(Source: hermione-ganja)

(Reblogged from asubtlergin)

starfleetinginterest:

what if the coins you find randomly at the bottom of drawers and in between couch cushions are actually from spiders trying to pay rent

(Reblogged from methodistcoloringbook)
(Reblogged from npr)
The girls are never supposed to end up together. I watched that movie with Ellen Page and Alia Shawkat, the roller-skating movie, the one where Ellen and Alia are best friends, each other’s only comforts in their podunk town. They need each other, and they hug, and they dance, and they tell each other I Love You, and Ellen meets a skinny boy who plays in a band. It doesn’t even work out with the boy, but that’s almost tangential. The girl was never a real option.
I think that’s why it’s really difficult for girls. For me. We follow narratives and our fingertips trace the contours of the stories we love and we long to escape within the confines of our own lives. Meet your boyfriend in the pouring rain and yank down his mask and kiss him upside down. Run with your boyfriend to the front of the ferry and throw your arms out to the side and scream, “I’m king of the world!” If you are a girl in love with a boy, your possibilities are infinite.
If there is a special girl in your life, you love her as a friend. You love her as a friend, but she becomes less important to you as you grow, and you leave her behind for a boy. She might even stand next to you when you marry the boy, and she might catch the bouquet of flowers that you throw to her. You’re giving her permission to move on, move away from you. It’s a ceremony of separation.
But if you should fall in love with a girl - and loving and falling in love are two very distinct things - the first kiss is the end. You’ve all seen the movie. Or the television show. Or the after-school special, or you’ve read the book that was banned from your school’s library for containing Sexual Content. The point of your story is not to fall in love. The point of your story is to struggle. Your story begins with a lie and climaxes in a truth and ends with a kiss. In the movie of your life, forty-five minutes are devoted to you figuring out how to say that you want to kiss girls, and another half-hour is devoted to people’s objections, and maybe the last fifteen minutes is you kissing the girl. Maybe you don’t even get to kiss the girl. Maybe she tells you that she’s flattered, but she doesn’t bat for your team.
The critics swoon; it’s realistic, they say, so realistic, to depict the struggle of the modern teen, the heartbreak of irresolvable incompatibility. Isn’t that always what celebrities cite in their divorces? “Irreconciliable differences.”
And so you’re lying on the floor of your bathroom, your knees curled to your chest, or you’re on your sofa with a pint of ice cream, or you’re in bed watching your favourite sad movie on Netflix, and the collective weight of all that you consume settles on your shoulders, leans in, and whispers, “You were never meant to fall in love.”
You were never meant to fall in love. Your story ends in tears or it ends in death. Jack Twist was bludgeoned to death with a tire iron and Ennis Del Mar was left alone in his closet to dance with an empty shirt. Alby Grant found Dale Tomasson swinging by a noose in the apartment that had been their safehouse, their respite, and he sank to his knees and cradled Dale’s bare feet and he cried. The Motion Picture Association of America axed Lana Tisdel and Brandon Teena’s sex scenes, but they didn’t have a problem with the extended shot of Lana cradling Brandon’s corpse in her fragile arms and falling asleep next to his body.
Love and intimacy are ours only in death, or so it would seem.
I don’t want to die. Isn’t that a very human experience? Not wanting to die? When does anyone who looks like me get to grow old and raise grandchildren and hold her wife’s hand as the skin wrinkles, turns translucent?
Sometimes my father asks me if I’ll ever date a man. Sometimes he doesn’t ask. “You are attracted to men, and you dream about falling in love with men,” he says, as if he can will his imaginary daughter into existence merely by speaking about her. Or maybe he is just looking out for my safety.
He’s seen the movies, too.
He loves me.
He doesn’t want me to die.

if this is heaven:

Oh, my God, this is beautiful, and now I’m nearly crying. This. ALL OF THIS OMG. 

(via somatrip)

When my best friend and I were in high school, trying desperately (and usually failing) to either not be gay or at least not hate ourselves for being gay, she once confessed to me, crying, that one of the reasons she didn’t want to be a lesbian is that lesbians aren’t happy in love, that their relationships can’t last, that she’d never seen happy lesbians in stable relationships.  This shit matters so hard y’all.

(via sirpuddleduck)

I know I already reblogged this but the added commentary is necessary and important so I’m doing it again.

(via queen-of-snarks)

To all the clueless assholes who say it doesn’t matter when lesbian characters are mistreated, abused, hurt and left alone and heartbroken, never getting to have happy relationships

And to all the asshole writers who think it doesn’t matter if they show lesbian characters being abused and suffering and not being able to have happy relationships with the women they love…or who think that it doesn’t matter if they don’t portray lesbian characters and relationships at all

IT FUCKING MATTERS

We’re sick and tired of having to make do with ‘subtext’ and ‘hints’ and teasing…and sick of the only lesbian representation we DO get always having things end horribly for them

(via thefingerfuckingfemalefury)

this is why I tend to stay from most LGBTQ+ YA novels

because they are always sad and everyone ends up depressed or without their family or friends support or somewhere tragic

I DONT WANT THAT

I want to read books where the girl has her family and friends support and she meets another girl and they are kickass lesbians/bisexuals/pansexuals  in love and it isn’t a tragedy 

I want to read books where we in the lgbtq+ community are seen happy and healthy without the whole ‘come to terms struggle’ that seems to follow us in the media

I don’t want to have to keep expecting the person like me to lose everything just because she happens to love a girl 

(via nightvaletrekkiewitch)

(Reblogged from femmemiracle)
Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else, but just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.
The Winter of the Air   (via minuty)

(Source: kalynroseanne)

(Reblogged from baroncaveyeti)
(Reblogged from spclnds)

misssuzyvalentine:

edgysatsuma:

fozmeadows:

whataboutthemenses:

blackamazon:

facebooksexism:

breewriteswords:

pleatedjeans:

The mayor of Mississauga, Canada is a badass. via

Hazel McCallion, everbody.

92 years old,

34 years in office,

$0 in debt

$700 million in reserve

Eight prime ministers

One truck.

But women aren’t strong leaders… OH WAIT.

Now I’m sure somebody’s gonna tell me something but

  • supports a Palestinian state
  • supports Aids CHarities
  • told her city well if we cant get money y’all need to pay taxes and maintains a 76 approval rating
  • nick named Hurricane Hazel
  • and is so boss lady that she don’t run she’ tells  folks to give that money to charity

I will always reblog this lady.

This woman is officially my new hero.

In regards to the flooding in the GTA yesterday, she apparently said that she hasn’t seen rain like that since her neighbour Noah was building a boat.

New hero in life. 

(Reblogged from spclnds)
People of color, women, and gays — who now have greater access to the centers of influence that ever before — are under pressure to be well-behaved when talking about their struggles. There is an expectation that we can talk about sins but no one must be identified as a sinner: newspapers love to describe words or deeds as “racially charged” even in those cases when it would be more honest to say “racist”; we agree that there is rampant misogyny, but misogynists are nowhere to be found; homophobia is a problem but no one is homophobic. One cumulative effect of this policed language is that when someone dares to point out something as obvious as white privilege, it is seen as unduly provocative. Marginalized voices in America have fewer and fewer avenues to speak plainly about what they suffer; the effect of this enforced civility is that those voices are falsified or blocked entirely from the discourse.
Excerpt from Teju Cole’s essay “The White Savior Industrial Complex”.
(via jalwhite)
(Reblogged from methodistcoloringbook)

asugarplumfairy:

manycoloredeyes:

riodoesntknow:

volitionary:

a-whoa-oh:

edge-0fheaven:

well fuck you too

Welcome to San Francisco

NOT EVEN THE STEEPEST HILL.

There are some hills where you put your hand out and you touch the sidewalk. I’ve literally crawled up a hill because it was so steep.

How in the world did they manage to park their cars in that manner on a freaking steep hill???

with frequently replaced brake pads

(Source: snapshotsofmyself)

(Reblogged from femmemiracle)
(Reblogged from letterstomycountry)