Love Begins
One Nice Bug Per Day
sheepfilms
blake kathryn
đ©” avery cochrane đ©”
I'd rather be in outer space đž
shark vs the universe
YOU ARE THE REASON
Kaledo Art
â
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
đ
KIROKAZE
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Today's Document
Sade Olutola
â
Andulka
Three Goblin Art
Keni
seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from Pakistan
seen from Greece
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Finland
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@the-savage-dragon
Life will be better when⊠I am not at this university anymore.
3 years later: can confirm my grad school was also lowkey not great (with the exception of a few amazing profs), BUT undergrad literally feels so far away at this point? Life is still messy, but arguably better than undergrad for sure
...I can't wait to tell my therapist about my 2014-2020 Tumblr lifespan
this is no joke. i looked around the reviews of several different candles just in case it couldâve been a single bad batch but nope.
these screenshots are only from like 4 or 5 different candles but i couldâve grabbed plenty more.
yâall, seriously, loss of smell is a possible effect of covid. if things donât smell/taste as strong as you remember GET TESTED and ISOLATE. if someone you know is complaining about their candles not having a scent, inform them and encourage them to get tested. and wear a fucking mask, yâall.
psa to all cishets: when a queer person isnt out to you, but you keep noticing them doing and saying Queer Things, they probably arent just âthinking theyâre being subtle.â like, theyâre probably deliberately testing the waters to see how you react, and then if they start backpedaling and trying to explain it away, you uh. reacted badly.
mutuals please join pictochat room A
I can still hear the choking.... The gagging...... The coughing
Stop focusing on what you canât do-- instead, focus on what will get you one step closer to accomplishing the present impossible.
Moving out of the apartment
This is, without a doubt, the saddest photo I have ever seen in my ENTIRE LIFE.
STORY TIME!
So in undergrad, my bestie lived in a true shithole of an apartment. When he moved in, he threw a housewarming party and brought out a bunch of washable markers and let us all draw on the walls. Being a tribe of feral assholes, we started competing to see who could draw the most obnoxious/offensive things. IIRC, there was George Bush frenching Ronald Regan, a skeleton with tits, some very rude portraits of the pope, etc etc.
now one of our friends who I hope to god has gone to therapy since then shut himself up in the walk in closet and painted the entire back of the door. He wouldnât let anyone see it til he was done, and guys, I had nightmares about it. Heâd driven a lovecraftian monster like you wouldnât believe. It had eyes where it shouldnât have eyes, teeth where it shouldnât have teeth, and no matter where you stood it looked at you. We were all suitably impressed and horrified.
Anyway four years later bestie moves out and repaints the entire apartment.
Years and years later, I was talking to him and brought up the closet door monster. he visibly paled and confessed âoh god, I forgot to paint the inside of the doorâ
Iâll never forget my first pride.
I canât remember my actual age, but it was in the range of 10 to 13 I think. my parents had dragged me to a Pride festival, and walked across the street from the main event, across where the lines were drawn, to where a sea of people in red shirts that read âgod has a better wayâ tried to drown out the celebration with speakers blasting christian music, and shouting and loud praying.
the leaders pulled all us kids to the side and gave us the spiel. they told us how the rainbow had been stolen from us, and that these people were tricked by the devil and just needed prayer, but that if we didnât save them, they were going to hell.
I rolled my eyes because I already didnât believe in god, and although I barely knew what being gay was, I knew my parents were usually on the Wrong side of things, and I shouldnât be siding with them.
âWe arenât allowed over there if weâre wearing the red shirts,â the leaders told us, âso weâre sending people over in secret without them so you can pass out tracts and pray for people. they wonât talk to us, but theyâll talk to the kids. does anyone want to volunteer?â
the people in red shirts disgusted me. the people on the other side of the line were cheering and having fun. I raised my hand.
we were supposed to go in groups with young adults, to make sure we were doing what we were supposed to be. I wandered off the minute I could and stood nervously at the edge of a crowd, watching on as people went by, happy and unbothered by the protests across the street. I felt a little pride myself in tricking the protestors into giving up a witness spot to me, when I was going to smile on and think profanities at god instead.
there was an older woman standing outside the crowd too. she asked if I was here with anyone, a girlfriend maybe? I said no, my parents were across the street. she nodded, and said she was here with her kid. a daughter, that she came to support, but couldnât keep up with in the crowd.
I almost cried. I told her how amazing that was, because I couldnât imagine my mother showing support like that to me over anything, much less something as serious as Being Gay. I imagined if I was gay, and at a pride event just like now, but this time because I Belong.
I knew automatically that my mother, without a doubt, would still be in the same place, across the street.
I got hungry after a bit, and tried to find a good food truck. I had a little money and I was unused to being on my own like this, but I didnât want to go back to the Other Side. I knew now without a shadow of a doubt, this was the Good side and that was the Bad side.
as I was eating the gyro I got, there was a stream of red shirted protestors trickling through; I had reached the end of the boundaries, and the protestors were allowed in here. I backed up a little, spotting my dad among them. I didnât want him to tell me to go back.
there was a line of women closing ranks around the Pride attendees, separating them from the protesters as they walked through. they spread their arms out and told every person the protesters spoke to that they were not obligated to respond, they could walk away and not engage.
my dad spotted me back, and made a beeline over. he couldnât cross over because a butch lesbian stood between us. I didnât know what those words meant, but I never forgot the buttons she was wearing.
he tried to tell me that it was time to go. âyouâre not obligated to speak to him,â the butch said, cutting him off and edging further between us. I smiled at her, a little in wonderment. no one had ever told me that I didnât have to speak to my parents, or do anything other than blindly obey them. I watched my dad get held behind a line by a woman half his height, with no intention on letting him get to me, and I smiled and walked away.
I didnât have a clue who I was then, and I wouldnât for a good few years to come. but I never forgot the supportive mother, who symbolized to me everything a mother should be, that mine, for all her religious self righteousness, would never hold a candle to. I never forgot that she was the person I wanted to be, and my mother was the person I did not want to be.
I never forgot the butch who stood between me and my dad, and for the first time ever, put the idea in my head that I was ALLOWED to make my own choices in my beliefs, and made me feel protected in a way I hadnât known I needed.
the image of her standing between me and my dad, being a physical barrier to protect me against any potential threat, that inspired the image of who I admired and wanted to become. it inspired the version of me who could stand up to my dad - to the point that I could hold my ground and educate him enough that over a decade later, he walked side by side with me at a pride festival, with no intent of witnessing to or condemning anybody.
pride month may be over, but the impact this month and these events can have is so damn important. I became who I am because of two people I met at a pride festival. Iâll never forget.
This is cool but Iâd be terrified if someone blocked me from getting to my kid in a parade.
contextually, if a homophobe wants to come drag their kid away from a Pride event back to a homophobic protest across the street, I say let them be fucking scared.
Fam, thatâs kidnapping
he could have come over to me if he had taken off his homophobic protest shirt but that mattered more than getting to me :)) he chose to let them block him off because of homophobia. and I was sent over in the first place, and was there of my choosing. donât really appreciate you dictating my own past, but here letâs be controversial like youâre looking for:
homophobes who try to brainwash their children into hatred shouldnât have a right to their children.
man really, in addition to all this: the blockade was specifically intended for protection. butch women stood the fuck up and placed themselves between vulnerable people and hateful people.
enormous amounts of LGBTQ child abuse comes from their family. a large man in a homophobic shirt coming towards a child in a Pride event is ENORMOUS cause for alarm.
there is NO ONE more vulnerable than LGBTQ children. I sure as fuck hope everyone would place the safety of a LGBTQ child over a parentâs âclaimâ to them. be on the right side of the line.
My daughter has standing orders that if her friends are endangered at their homes because of their queerness then she is to invite her friends to our home. And to tell her friends that I am willing to go to bat, in the legal system if I must, to protect these children from their abusers.
People in their 20s through 40s: I still have nightmares about school sometimes.
School System: This is normal. I see no problem here.
hard work will pay off
hard work will pay off
hard work will pay off
hard work will pay off
hard work will pay off
I really donât like the using the phrase âessential workerâ to describe myself. Because hereâs the thing-- Iâm really not essential. Yes-- I work in a grocery store, and i make things flow better.. but I am not ESSENTIAL. Like if I miss a day of work, life will go on for everyone. Â
Even if I was âessential,â my company wouldnât care. We had 0 CSMs for multiple nights, and it did NOTHING to corporate. It inconvenienced other managers and the front end peeps, but ultimately, it wasnât essential. The company would still fire me in a heartbeat if I missed a day of work and didnât call it in. If (or in full honesty based on how physically close unmasked customers get, when) I get COVID, the store will be perfectly fine without me and corporate will still hand me a check for part of what my pay is supposed to be (they are already cutting our hours to prepare for it!)
Donât get me wrong-- if being labeled as âessentialâ can get someone through a challenging day, I am fully supportive of it. But so many of the âessentialâ workers are still being treated like trash, and putting an uplifting label on our jobs is doing nothing for increasing safety measures or addressing unjust pay differentials.Â
just... even the dynamics donât feel great anymore. I donât think I am outgrowing this team, but I still donât think this is home... I think it will be good to leave and find a place where I feel safe and free again.
âBeing brave doesnât mean you arenât scared. Being brave means you are scared, really scared, badly scared, and you do the right thing anyway.â
â Neil Gaiman
i want to be someone elseâs safety. even nonromantically. i want to be âhey can i tell you something?â i want to be - i tried something new and iâm a little scared but i wanted to show you. i want to be âi knew i could trust youâ. i want to be okay to hold the hand of, always ready to listen, always trying. even if i donât get it perfect, you know? i just want to be a place other people can relax and be themselves and not worry for a fraction of an instant.Â
Itâs like Iâm the string attached to your balloon. I keep things together, but your downfall is mine too.
