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From the blog: The Indisputable Joy of Things Arranged in Rainbow Order (featuring the book Encyclopedia of Rainbows)
Fuck Yes colorful things arranged on white backgrounds!!!
@elodieunderglass you might like @thingsorganizedneatly
Thank you!!!
Living Cartoons
The type of the mother I’m trying to be. Not just encourage bodily autonomy, but reward displays of it, even when it might make someone else in the room uncomfortable.
I’ve made so many people uncomfortable in supporting my daughter’s personal space. People will try to hug her, she’ll sometimes say “No, thank you” and the adult will look at me to make her do it, but I just say “It’s ok honey, you don’t have to hug anyone you don’t want to.” It makes people irrationally huffy, making me feel even more justified in supporting my daughter’s choices. Creeps.
I legit had to mom-voice some random woman with a “she said no!” when she tried to force a hug on Madison. (who was not very good at verbalizing to people she didn’t know/trust at the time)
She replied, “I just want a hug, it won’t hurt her.”
Me: She. Said. No.
There aren’t many things more important than letting my daughter know that I have her back when it comes to something like this.
I work with five year olds and I had a very long talk with them about permission and that your body belongs to yourself and no one else. “Even if you want to hug your friend, you need to stop and ask if it’s okay and if they don’t want you to touch them, you should respect that choice and not do it.” they were like “cool” and then every time after that they had no problem asking their friends “can I give you a hug?” Or “can I hold your hand?” Very politely. If their friend said no, they shrugged and went on with their life. They even started asking me if they could hug me or if it was okay to hold my hand when they were sad. And I always ask when they need comfort “do you need or want a hug?” If they say no, I ask “okay, let me know what we can do as a class to help you feel better. Quiet time? Do you want a stuffed animal? Sit on the couch? Do you need some time alone?” They verbalize what they need and they become aware of their own autonomy and their ability and power to say “no.” Just because someone is an adult does NOT give them the right to hug a child who has said “no” or “no thanks.” Teach then that they own their own body, and no one else is in charge of it. Teach them the power of NO.
^^^^^this is so important
Whenever a kid refused to high 5 me for whatever reason, I make a point to say “thank you for stating your boundaries”.
My husbands family get so offended when my stepdaughter doesn’t want a hug. I just tell them “no, she said she doesn’t want one”. They often try to force her to hug them or just grab her. It starts young, and they learn their body isnt their own.
When I first met my stepdaughter, if I asked for a hug, she wouldn’t say no, but she’d go into a protective stance and just wait. She was waiting for me to violate her boundaries. I told her “you don’t have to give me a hug if you don’t want one. You’re allowed to say no”. It took a while, but now she’s happy saying no.
Children have a right to boundaries as much as an adult does. Don’t violate a child’s boundaries.
It means a lot to me, for reasons I won’t go into, that you’re teaching your stepdaughter that. We need to teach more kids about this, and for that matter, need to teach adults to respect kids’ boundaries.
Very important to tech both, children AND adults!
Your impact on other people is bigger than you think. Someone still giggles when they think of that funny thing you said. Someone still smiles when they think of the compliment you gave them. Someone silently admires you. The advice you give has made a difference for people. The support and love you've offered others has made someone's day. Your input and opinions have made someone think twice. You're not insignificant and forgotten. Your existence makes a positive difference, whether you see it or not.
I love genuinely innocent “boys will be boys.” Just saw a guy come out of a frat house to poke a pair of jeans they’d left outside - they were frozen solid, and as soon as he confirmed that, like twenty more boys came rushing out of the house going “YOOOOOOOOOO”
I heard grunting outside my window the other night and there were four boys struggling to push this giant snowball (like 7 foot diameter) down the sidewalk.
I once lost my keys at a frat house.
My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch. Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out. I do not remember this part.
The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house. I stood there, right in front of the front door. This was a novel experience for me. I’d never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.
A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing.
“I lost my keys in here last night,” I called back. “I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?”
He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.
“Go wherever you want.”
I’d never seen a frat house post-party before. Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light. A few of them threw puzzled glances my way. I’m sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.
I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.
“Do you like dog movies?” he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.
I told him I did.
He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing. I told him I was looking for my keys.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen any keys around here.”
I didn’t doubt him.
Twenty minutes had passed. I’d searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house. I’d given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates’ forgiveness and get a new set copied.
As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.
“You need help with something?”
“I lost my keys here last night and I can’t find them, I’ve looked everywhere.”
“What do they look like? I’ll put it into the group chat.” He was already pulling out his phone.
No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell. It was worth a shot. “Um, it’s just a ring of keys. The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big. Like bright pink, you can’t miss it.”
He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.
“Alright, I sent the message out. Good luck.”
And with that, he turned and left.
A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering. It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder. One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.
“Someone tell the girl!” One of them shouted, faceless in the mob. “Girl! Hey, GIRL!!! We found your keys, girl!!!”
They circled around me. I hadn’t felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old. One of them split himself off from the crowd.
“Are these -” he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, “your keys?”
And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Oh my god, yes.”
“EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
The cheer went up.
Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs. I thanked them again profusely. There was a scattered round of “no problems” and then, just as suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night.
THIS is boys will be boys
on a camp with teenage boys recently and as i was one of the camp leaders, it was part of my duties to help wake said boys in the morning (at 6am or a similar ungodly hour).
we (the camp leaders) found the most efficient way to do so was to blast music from a tinny little speaker one of us owned.
so before the sun itself has risen, we’re walking down a corridor with 8+ rooms filled with 6 or more boys in each, blasting the one and only Let It Go from Frozen, hoping to wake a few students, preparing for hateful commentary.
instead, what we got was the thumps and shouts of boys excitedly leaping from bunk beds, stuffing on shirts and bursting into the corridor to scream the lyrics to Let It Go.
every.single.boy.did this.
as soon as the song finished, they acted like it never happened and went back to their rooms to get dressed.
you will all be pleased to learn that provided with the zero-gravity environment of scuba diving, it is not uncommon to turn around to see 3 or 4 teenage boys t-posing mid water column
Young men and boys! Please reclaim ‘boys will be boys’ by doing chaotic good things, having good clean fun, and engaging in benevolent bro culture.
YOU FORGOT THE BEST PART
Pieces of Viking pottery with traces of cat and dog paws, seen at the Musée de Normandie in Caen Castle
“So back in the day pets already ruined their owner’s artwork.” - My sis who took the photo
“ruined”? made better
It’s very humanizing to imagine some poor potter in the past screaming “nnnnooooooo bad kitty” somewhere in Scandinavia
If it was ruined, the artisan wouldn’t have baked it.
That’s… that’s a delightful point you just made.
This person chose to bake and keep their cat’s artistic contribution.
luca marinelli in they call me jeeg.
monster generation stats
I can’t believe I am doing this but could you help at all? This is a go fund me page to help get my mother the best care we can. Anything helps, $1, $5, literally anything if you are willing. gf.me/u/yi92bx Please reblog this if you are able and willing. If not thank you for reading.
Please, whatever god you believe in: God, Allah, Oden, Yahweh, Ra, the Druids, whatever religion or non-religion you believe in, any prayers or positive thoughts are welcome. We NEED the help.
This just made me smile
sometimes I hate how much modern clothing is determined to show women’s bodies
like if it’s not skimpy, it’s skin-tight- leggings, skinny jeans, bodycon dresses, etc.
doing historical costuming has made me hyper-aware of just how “on display” my body is when I’m wearing normal modern outfits, and it affects my behavior. don’t bend over to pick things up at work because men will stare at your ass. sit differently so you don’t show stomach rolls. a guy running a pop-up stand next to my shop commented so much on how I had “great legs” that I didn’t wear leggings and skirts- one of my favorite winter outfit combinations -for the rest of the season
there’s a certain freedom in medium-to-long skirts and skirt supports, I find: the freedom to define what people see of my body. men won’t stop being creepy no matter what women wear, but I like that kind of dramatic body re-framing. you don’t get to see my legs and hips, Creepy Guys. you get to see a massive bell skirt, or a bustle, or an upended trumpet flower shape. my body is to be seen only by those I’ve chosen to trust, not the world at large
of course, empowerment is different for different women. some feel comfortable and powerful showing as much of their shape as possible, and I applaud them in doing exactly that. what pisses me off is the pressure from the fashion industry for all of us to be empowered by the same thing…a thing that just so happens to tie in with the diet industry and the cosmetics industry. it’s easier to sell the idea that you have to be hairless and smooth and thin and blemish-free when it’s all on display
sometimes I just wish I could go about in a hoop skirt and a t-shirt that says “fuck off” in delicate script
BEST RESPONSE TO ANY POST OF MINE EVER
THANK YOU
Technically unless there’s a dress code for your work or whatever there’s nothing that says you can’t wear a hoop skirt everywhere.
Fight the man.
Wear a hoop skirt if you want.
I see this post a lot and I’m sure I’ve seen someone I follow add on this as well but if you agree with the sentiment of this post I really hope you also support hijabis and niqabis, because that is more or less the core of how we dress. Observing hijab is religious, yes, but dressing modestly is like as OP said “my body is to be seen only by those I’ve chosen to trust, not the world at large”. that is the exact sentiment behind why I wear niqab (the religious reasons for wearing it I don’t feel comfortable talking about a lot, because how i express my faith is personal and between me and Allah(SWT)), because I get to choose who sees my body and how much of it they see and because I like having that control and I think it’s fun and I enjoy it!
If you now support people choosing to dress modestly for whatever reason, you must include supporting hijabis and niqabis who have been dressing modestly forever.
I think the “women are mysterious” thing can also come from:
1) Women actually being quite clear, but not telling men what they want to hear. ”She said she doesn’t want to talk to me? So many mixed messages and confusing signals!”
2) Women not having cheat codes. ”I tried being nice, and she didn’t have sex with me. I tried being an asshole, and she didn’t have sex with me. Come on, there’s got to be some kind of solution to this puzzle!”
3) Women not being a hive mind. ”First a woman told me that she likes guys with big muscles. Then the very next day a woman told me she thinks muscles aren’t attractive at all. Make up your mind, women!”
4) An individual woman doing something confusing, and instead of asking “why is she doing this now?” men ask “why do women always do this?”
Always reblog
I used to think communication was the key until I realized comprehension is. You can communicate all you want with someone but if they don’t understand you, its silent chaos.
miscommunication as a plot device makes me angry
if you just talked to each other but no
on the one hand i agree with this but on the other hand one of my coworkers rented an alpaca from a petting zoo and brought it to work because my boss said she wanted an alpaca sweater but the guy didn’t hear her say sweater and didn’t want to upset her by asking why the fuck she’d want an alpaca
I think that highlights a good genre difference: miscommunication in drama is frustrating, overused, and just kinda shit. Miscommunication in comedy is fucking hilarious.
どいてくれないネコ https://twitter.com/kyuryuZ/status/1273812918467887104
@todayintokyo kitty AND japan XD
The Old Guard Through History
