Ms. Nickelodeon

From homophones to Hamlet...the life and times of a private school reading specialist.

[confusedwithhell]

[maiasparx]

Finally a motivation video without fitness models, but with ordinary girls!

[aintnosuchthingastoothick]

I love this!!!!

[unbridledandmeteoric-deactivate]

HELL YES

[thewinterotter]

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

[that-otter-girl-deactivated2020]

Not gonna lie, if this was the kinda of representation I saw growing up, I would of not have thought that I needed to already be a good weight and healthy to partispitate in physical activity.

[lifeguardinthesharktank]

@imfemalewarrior

[imfemalewarrior]

It is a lot easier to feel inspired and motivated to try getting into fitness and try new activities when you see yourself represented in those activities. 

That’s why I ask my followers to submit pictures of themselves doing those activities so we can all see ourselves represented and that we are not alone in doing them! 

-FemaleWarrior, She/They 

[stevieang]

HOLY YAAAAAASSSSSS. Thank God for these women, yes, these warriors, for doing this.

[malditamigs]

[purplebuddhaproject]

“I promise you nothing is as chaotic as it seems. Nothing is worth your health. Nothing is worth poisoning yourself into stress, anxiety and fear.”

— Steve Maraboli (via purplebuddhaquotes)

[thegoodvybe]

[magnesiumflare]

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other. We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to to the person holding it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead - you first,” “I like your hat.”

- Danusha Laméris, “Small Kindnesses" 

[mysharona1987]

[penguinrandomhouse]

Warsan Shire, “Home”

no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark you only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you breath bloody in their throats the boy you went to school with who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory is holding a gun bigger than his body you only leave home when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you fire under feet hot blood in your belly it’s not something you ever thought of doing until the blade burnt threats into your neck and even then you carried the anthem under your breath only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets sobbing as each mouthful of paper made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand, that no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land no one burns their palms under trains beneath carriages no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled means something more than journey. no one crawls under fences no one wants to be beaten pitied

no one chooses refugee camps or strip searches where your body is left aching or prison, because prison is safer than a city of fire and one prison guard in the night is better than a truckload of men who look like your father no one could take it no one could stomach it no one skin would be tough enough

the go home blacks refugees dirty immigrants asylum seekers sucking our country dry niggers with their hands out they smell strange savage messed up their country and now they want to mess ours up how do the words the dirty looks roll off your backs maybe because the blow is softer than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender than fourteen men between your legs or the insults are easier to swallow than rubble than bone than your child body in pieces. i want to go home, but home is the mouth of a shark home is the barrel of the gun and no one would leave home unless home chased you to the shore unless home told you to quicken your legs leave your clothes behind crawl through the desert wade through the oceans drown save be hunger beg forget pride your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear saying- leave, run away from me now i dont know what i’ve become but i know that anywhere is safer than here

[yesdarlingido]

I cried because I want my daughters to feel that blazing pride, that affirmation of their boundless capacity — not from their husbands, but from their world, from the atmosphere, from inviolable wells of certainty inside themselves. I cried because it’s not fair, and I’m so tired, and every woman I know is so tired. I cried because I don’t even know what it feels like to be taken seriously — not fully, not in that whole, unequivocal, confident way that’s native to handshakes between men. I cried because it does things to you to always come second.

Hillary Clinton, New York Times (via laynemorgan)

[2wentysixletters]

and even when i’m not writing about you i’m writing to you like a beggar on his knees like icarus towards the sun pleading: love me love me love me.

A.Y. // RUIN ME THE BEST YOU CAN  (via 2wentysixletters)

[prochoiceamerica]

Today we feel how far we are from the promise of full equality—but we’re ready for this fight. We stand with you. We will fight alongside you.

[maevegreen]

Always have.

[girlinthepark]

Kate Arends | Wit & Delight | poem by: Nayyirah Waheed. 

[mahaldaddy-blog]

[sararye]

AND THAT IS HOW YOU USE AN EFFECTS PEDAL

I was gaping the entire song this is insane

[andrewducote]

If I had a dollar for every time a musician made me feel like I’ve done nothing with my life, I’d be filthy, FILTHY rich.

[mamafox18]

UNMUTE

[beckieteaches]

As a formerly active violist, this brought tears to my eyes. So beautiful. Unmute this.

[christina-in-arkansas]

Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell by Marty McConnell

leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog. change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. you lucky, lucky girl. you have an apartment just your size. a bathtub full of tea. a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. you had to have him. and you did. and now you pull down the bridge between your houses. you make him call before he visits. you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. don’t lose too much weight. stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. and you are not stupid. you loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. heart like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas. heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.

[psliterary-deactivated20190419]

The first draft is the down draft—you just get it down. The second draft is the up draft—you fix it up.

Anne Lamott (via psliterary)

[breanna-lynn]

The soul needs autumn. Let what’s dead fall. Let the wind sweep it up and blow it away. Your colors are changing; it’s so beautiful. Don’t be sad it was a part of you and now is gone. Some things have to die. It’s their season. You can’t hold on. This is your season to let it all fall. Shed what’s dead. Be free, stand tall. There will be a time to bloom again.

your roots remain // (via sailsflyseaward)

[writteninthekitchensink]

Something I want to say to most of my white Facebook friends:

If you choose to only post pro-police memes, you do not believe all lives matter. If you only post tributes to the five policemen tragically killed in Dallas, you do not believe all lives matter. If you haven’t posted anything about Alton Sterling or Philando Castile (or the many names that came before), you do not believe all lives matter. If you hijacked an MLK quote to prove the point that you just want everyone to get along, you do not believe all lives matter. If you only post anecdotes from black Americans to make white Americans look good, you do not believe all lives matter. If you think racism can be erased by saying “I love all people, no matter their color,” you do not believe all lives matter.

You do not believe all lives matter when only certain lives lost break your silence. 

[meanwhilepoetry]

When your daughter asks you if she’s pretty, looking like the universe is weighing down her little bones with insecurity, resist the urge to say “Ofcourse, darling, Ofcourse you are.” Tell her instead: “Everyday, I bless the stars that fell apart to allow your body’s embers to glow to come to life.” Tell her instead: “In the 7 billion that exist on this planet you are the only one of your kind.” Tell her instead: “You are so much more than pretty. The stars that gave you to me made you to be like the sun. You are their best ever masterpiece. You aren’t pretty. You are inspiring.”

Nikita Gill (via meanwhilepoetry)

Saving to tell my baby one day.

She is adorable. Saying that word, sadly, short changes what I truly think of her. There is no word I can use to describe her. Or my boys, for that matter.

(via thriceadad)