Hey, it's your friend Cindy @yourfriendcindy - Tumblr Blog

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These incredible women have changed my life through Ladies Rock Camp, and the programs they run for girls are equally rad. Vote for Girls Rock Campaign to win $10,000 and help girls believe in themselves through the power of music! thndr.me/21pm0h http://thndr.me/21pm0h

mikedawwwson

That’s Not Who We Are

veeonebanana

makes me sick to my stomach honestly

a new year

In January 2016 I tried to ski,

halfway through the lesson = not right for me.

I quit and felt good for not being silent

when the pain of the boots was terribly violent.

In March, a similar frustration:

Rock camp, drums, no coordination.

I cried but I kept going, I had something to prove.

Soon enough I found my groove.

In April, I turned thirty-nine

with good friends, pastries, and wine.

A party will definitely end well

if you choose to watch Magic Mike XXL.

I’m so lucky, because in May

Kirk and I hit our fifteen-year anniversa-ray.

Bad rhymes make him laugh so I’ll keep that in.

I can’t imagine a better partner on the earth’s spin.

Not much to say about much of the summer,

except, um, depression. Such a bummer.

I vow this year to not drown in sadness

despite the expected levels of badness.

November brought dark times, but there was a light:

knowing we’re all really pissed and we’ll fight.

We’ll care for all those who were hurt by that vote,

riding together in our much bigger boat.

As the year got closer to its numerical ending,

I found a way to fight off the dread that’s been trending.

I look for the good things and I don’t hesitate

to give gifts and time to the ones who don’t hate.

This poem isn’t great but for the year ‘17

I’ll share more of this crap (and be a little less mean

when my rhymes are bad). I will fight my fear

of looking dumb. Whatever. Happy New Year!

#happy new year

babyanimalgifs

boop da booty!

more baby animals here

yourfriendcindy

Sharing for @kirkhowle, lover of French bulldogs (and butts)

jewishtransition

One of the biggest problems with religion is that people stubbornly, insistently reduce God to their own size; they imagine that God loves the same people they love, and that God hates the people they hate. This is not just insidious theology; it’s actually idolatry, because people are just worshiping a blown up version of themselves. So let me say it simply: God’s love transcends all of that. When your parents reject you, God loves you; when your friends or classmates make fun of you, God loves you; when your priest, minister, imam, or rabbi tells you that you are an abomination, God loves you; when politicians cater to people’s basest prejudices, God loves you. No matter how many times and in how many ways people make you feel less than human, God knows otherwise, and God loves you. When you feel frightened, or abandoned, or humiliated, I hope the unshakeable conviction that God loves you can help hold you and enable you to persevere.

From a Rabbi, An Open Letter To People Who Are LGBTQ by Rabbai Shai Held (via jewishtransition)

It's the fifth anniversary of bringing him home as a tiny kitten to "foster," so here is my boy in meme form.

#made with tumblr #gif #bode #Fat cat #cat #bode cat #foster cat #adoptdontshop

talkingtrump

Templates to Use When Talking to Trump Supporters

Here are some of the common scenarios that you’ll encounter. Feel free to cut and paste, or use as a jumping off point to write your own answer. This page will be an evolving document, but if you run into a scenario that you don’t see here, feel free to hit up our ask.

This post lives permanently here.

“I’m not racist.” But you voted for someone who was endorsed by the KKK. The election of Trump has given him and his hateful rhetoric and actions cover. Women are having their hijabs pulled off and swastikas are being spraypainted in public and children are going into classrooms and chanting BUILD THE WALL at their Hispanic classmates. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, hate crimes are up since the election. And if she talks about how she isn’t racist or homophobic, et al, then she should be working to condemn the hate that those marginalized groups are getting.

LINK: Voted for Trump? I have only one plea.

“Donald Trump is not a racist.” Donald Trump said that U.S. District Judge Gonzalo Curiel should be excused from hearing his Trump University case because he could not be impartial due to his Mexican heritage. Even Speaker Ryan called this the “textbook definition of a racist comment.” Not to mention that Trump has called Mexicans rapists, and in 1973, as President of Trump Management, he and his father were sued for discriminating against black tenants. He led the birther movement, claiming President Obama was not born in the U.S. Even Colin Powell, Secretary of State for George W. Bush, calls that racism.

“Donald Trump loves women.” He bragged about grabbing women by the pussy. (If that word offends you, know that I’m just quoting the President-Elect.) He is on tape saying that he could get away with that. Then when women came forward and said he had done precisely that, he labeled them “haters” and threatened to sue. Most women do not report their assaults because the justice system does not have a great track record on prosecuting them. One in three women will experience sexual assault in their lifetimes. Nearly even single woman in your life has experienced a time when a man has made an unwanted gesture or comment, had someone reduce her to a “thing” rather than a person. You might say this is “just how men talk” or that it’s “locker room talk” but that does not make it right. 1 in 33 men have also been the victims of rape or attempted rape. Making light of rape as “just how men talk” makes the problem worse, not better.

“He’s totally cool with gay people!”

His Vice-President signed a bill in Indiana that gave businesses the right to discriminate against gay people. Mike Pence even wanted to divert tax dollars spent on fighting AIDS/HIV to support gay conversion therapy. He didn’t want to sign the Matthew Shepard hate crimes bill because it advanced a “radical social agenda.” His Vice-President doesn’t think gay people should even exist. And Ken Blackwell has been appointed to lead the domestic policy on the transition team. Blackwell has compared homosexuality to arson and kleptomania. Mike Pence thinks that gay marriage will lead to societal collapse and wants to roll back protection for trans people.

“He tells it like it is. I like that.”

He’s talked about banning Muslims and keeping a database of American Muslims, punishing women for having abortions and rounding up undocumented citizens with a deportation force. He called Mexicans rapists. He’s made fun of disabled people. He has asked why we can’t use our nuclear arsenal. He has promised to jail his political opponent and called for Hillary Clinton to be assassinated twice. He has praised Vladimir Putin and Saddam Hussein. That’s what you like?

“He won’t do what he said, he was just exaggerating/joking.” Wait, but didn’t you just say you liked him because he “told it like it is?” But if he won’t do what he said, that what will he do? It’s terrifying that a President has been elected whose policies we do not know.

However, putting all of that aside, it doesn’t matter. Because Donald Trump has normalized hate. Hate crimes against Muslims are up 89% this year. And post-election, there have been an uptick in hate crimes. The KKK in North Carolina is planning a victory parade.

“The whole system needs to be blown up!” You might be okay, but there are millions of non-white non-christian non-straight non-cis people who will not. Be okay. Blowing up the system means that actual people will be caught in the crossfire.

“He’s going to drain the swamp!”

His transition team and possible Cabinet picks are all lobbyists and Washington insiders.

“He’ll make us safe!”

A group of National Security Advisers have said “We are convinced that in the Oval Office, he [Trump] would be the most reckless President in American history.” And he’s having trouble filling National Security jobs.

Additionally, his ties with Russia threatens the NATO alliance.

He just named anti-Semitic white nationalist Steve Bannon to be his Chief Strategist. So the only people he is “making safe” is white people.

“Give him a chance./I don’t why you understand why you’re protesting you bunch of crybabies/sore losers.”

They are not throwing a temper tantrum. They are scared. A person who will actively harm them has just been elected President. His VP and his domestic transition leader do not think gay people should even exist. He wants to create a deportation force. He has bragged about assaulting women. Donald Trump said he could unite the country, so it is on him to do so. And if you need to really see what a temper tantrum looks like, maybe check out your President-Elect’s own Twitter

Rejecting a candidate like this is absolutely American. “But Obamacare made my premiums go up because I have a chronic condition.” Obamacare needs some work. Premiums are high because insurance company CEOs are rewarding themselves with hundred million dollar salaries. Or because GOP governors wouldn’t accept the Medicaid expansions that would offset some of the cost. But a cornerstone of Obamacare was that people could not be denied coverage because of preexisting conditions. Which means your chronic condition may mean you may not be able to get coverage anywhere once Obamacare is repealed. Disabled and aging people will also suffer.

“He’ll work really hard for us!”

He already wants weekends off.

Why isn’t there anything about Roe v. Wade and women’s healthcare?

Because people who voted for Donald Trump don’t care about that going away.

The Southern Poverty Law Center has a great document about standing up to everyday bigotry here.

Note: This is document will continue to evolve over time, so feel free to check back. Have a scenario that’s not covered here? Hit up our ask.

yourfriendcindy

Sharing for @kirkhowle. (Edited to add: Because he’s been fighting his willfully ignorant family. He’s a good dude!)

thewinterotter

I’m watching a documentary about rats and this guy is like “they say there’s a rat for every single person in New York City” and I know he’s talking about like population numbers but it kind of sounds like he’s trying to tell everyone in New York that they have an individually assigned rodent friend and I think that’s beautiful.

bewaretheides315

The next big thing in fandom: Rat Soulmates

voxmyriad

Well I’m here, when do I get to meet my Buddy Rat?

usedtobehmc

As I approached the near-empty parking lot that practically hung out over the Hudson, I took my 78th look at the pamphlet that had arrived on my doorstep yesterday: my 16th birthday. The pamphlet said,

Congratulations on the 16th anniversary of your birth. Please report to: Rodent Assignment Terminus #1 13th Avenue Manhattan, NY

Honest to God, I had no idea there even was a 13th Avenue on Manhattan but here I was. After about two minutes of look around, I spotted the ramshackle little kiosk in the corner of the floating block of asphalt and pavement. It was surrounded by mini traffic cones forming an impromptu runway that led right to the small window carved in the side of the slanted hut. I knocked on the window sill and waited.

The tiny window slid open and the wizened face of an old lady appeared. By my rough estimate, she was approximately 170 years old. “Name?” She croaked, taking a drag off her cigarette with shriveled lips.

“Uh… Addison. Addison Sharpe.” I held up the pamphlet with my eyebrows up, letting her know I also did not know why I was here.

The window slammed shut and I heard the bustle and groaning of the old lady getting up out of her seat.

To my surprise, she appeared outside the kiosk with a metal wire hanger-looking device with a hook hammered into the end. She shuffled three feet to a tiny, manhole cover and slipped the hook through one of its holes. I rushed forward to offer to do it myself but to my utter shock, she lifted the manhole up and to the side with no more effort than it took her to slam the small window of her kiosk. She removed her cigarette with one hand and cupped her mouth with the other. “Addison Sharpe!”

A low, unholy sound emerged from the depths of the hole in the ground. It sounded like 8 million chairs squeaking across a poorly-waxed floor. It sounded like 32 million claws clicking and clacking their way across a cement car port. It sounded like the asthmatic breathing of a mass of nightmares. It got closer… and closer to the top of the hole.

A single rat, about the size of a small chiuahua, emerged from the hole.

“Look, he got dressed up for you,” the old lady wheezed affectionately, and casually moved the manhole cover back into place.

The rat in question appeared to have a pink bow on his head, stuck there with what I can only assume (and hope) was gum. He regarded me, whiskers twitching, beady eyes staring.

“I like your bow,” I offered.

The rat hobbled towards me, latching onto my pant leg with sharp little claws and climbing until he reached my hoodie pocket, where he settled with a decisive sigh.

I turned to thank the old lady, but she slammed the door of the kiosk in my face.

thewinterotter

This is the most magical thing that’s ever happened in response to dumb shit I said on tumblr. I love you. And I like the bow, too.

yourfriendcindy

🎶 these streets will make you feel brand new

the rats will inspire you 🎶

#nyc #rats

feministlisafrank

Quote by Hillary Clinton.

#stillwithher

Something spoopy is going on around here

#tumblrween

To fuel my creativity, which has been dormant for a while, I picked up this book. Happy Inktober, friends.

#inktober

592 days

I wrote THE END and closed my first draft on February 23, 2015. I was proud. I had done it. And I vowed to open it again and start editing after a resting period. Two weeks, perhaps? A month at most.

Here we are, 592 days later. For the first time in all those months, I opened the document. I skimmed. I found mistakes. I groaned at the long paragraphs where I was figuring out who the characters are, helpful to the writer in the moment but super boring if you’re a reader. I started cutting. I started polishing. After two hours and about 12 pages, I saved and closed.

Why today? It started the way many things in my life start: with social awkwardness. At work we had a champagne toast to a debut author, K. I introduced myself as her copy editor, she said “I’m so sorry,” we all laughed. Her editor, S, wanted me to tell her about what I did on my sabbatical.

I didn’t know that S was hinting at my Ladies Rock Camp experience. So I started to tell her about my novel writing adventure, but S prodded further, so I explained how rock camp went. (Now embarrassed about bringing up the writing.) Feminist punk songs written in three days = fun anecdote. Incomplete novel = urgh.

We stood talking about other things and eating mini cupcakes for a bit, then we came back around to my rough draft somehow. (I blame the champagne for my lack of tact. Ugh, another rando talking about the book they wrote. Authors must get that constantly.) She asked what it was about, and I rambled some more. She said she was intrigued. And I know she would have said that even if I’d given the most mundane, cliched plot description ever, but I felt grateful to her for it. If this thing ever gets published, her name will be in the acknowledgments for sure. (I joked that she’d have to write a blurb for me. So arrogant! So ridiculous!)

But the main takeaway I had from the conversation was that I was really ashamed to be telling yet another person that I’d written a book in three weeks and abandoned it for more than a year and a half. What’s really outrageous is how I was given four paid weeks off by my employer to do this, and for all I’ve done since, I might as well have spent those weeks watching TV and refreshing Twitter. I could have traveled or volunteered with that time, but I made that choice, and I won’t get another opportunity like that.

Starting is easy. Lie on the ground. Put your hands under your shoulder sockets. Tuck your toes under. Flex your biceps and your pecs. You can push off the ground, hold in a plank. Then you can fall back to the floor. Give up here and you’ll never be The Rock. Keep pushing, up, down, repeat, and you still won’t be The Rock, but maybe you’ll eventually have a bit of muscle to show for it.

This post is my Before photo. I want to show my After picture before 2017.

Here’s where I lie down and take a deep breath.

#writing #drafting

Tonight I demonstrated some of these dumb dance moves at karaoke for @abbydenson while @kirkhowle was singing. You know, typical Tuesday. I really need to have a Just Dance party.

A story about a witch

Once upon a time, there lived a little girl who loved to read. She devoured every book and magazine set in front of her. She eagerly awaited each new Baby-Sitters Club book and spent her hard-earned allowance on them.

“Oh! Why must I wait so long in between adventures?” she wondered aloud in the bookstore aisle. “I wish I had the chance to read them the moment they first existed, before anyone else.”

Being a child who read a lot, the dumb little girl should have known not to make wishes out loud, giving them power (or does that take power away? really, there is not a consensus). So anyway, a witch decided to challenge the girl.

“You want stories early, do you? Before all the others?” the weird old witch, who apparently hung out at the mall for some reason, said.

“Of course!” The girl pondered this for a second. “But I don’t have much money, so I couldn’t pay for that privilege.” She frowned at her meager purse.

The witch was like, “No, little girl (though economically advantaged people do often get to do stuff like that, you’ll see, it really sucks not being rich).” She stretched out a hand, all creepy like, because witches love to stretch creepily toward children. “In fact, you’ll be paid to read those books early!”

The little girl, who probably should have distrusted this strange witch person with the creepy stretching and all that, was intrigued! “What’s the catch?”

“Well, it will be work, and you’ll have to work really fast, and you’ll need to know whether impassible or impassable is the preferred spelling of that term and other silly nonsense like that. If you do a great job, no one will notice; if you do a terrible job, everyone will, and you will be haunted with guilt. And just for funsies, you will almost always get some kind of illness, say, a nasty sinus infection or a case of the runs, when the deadline is strictest, so you’ll have to work while blowing your nose or sitting on the toilet, you get the idea. Trying to read with a migraine? What a fun challenge! Also, the pay will be tragic. The publishing industry is notoriously low paying.” The witch added that last part very quickly before raising her eyebrows. “You will be powerful, kind of, and you’ll get to read the hottest books months before everyone else!”

The little girl had gotten distracted in the middle of the witch’s speech, but the end part, post eyebrow raising, sounded fantastic. “Radical!” (It was the 1980s.)

And thus, a copy editor was born.

#posts written on cold medicine #cool story