if your best attempt at getting women to join feminism is telling them that “not all feminists are angry lesbians who don’t shave!!” i need you to write me a five-page essay, 12 pt font, double spaced, on why angry, hairy, lesbians are a bad thing
it's national fall-madly-in-love-day by mindy nettifee
Also: Blame-Oxytocin-Day, The-Neighbors-Won’t-Mind-Day, and Lord-Have-Mercy-Week amongst devour believers everywhere.
The Amorousness supplies are high! You can tell by the lipstick on my ankles I’ve decided to celebrate in style. You can see from the milky look in my eyes I think I’m ready for anything, and it’s true—-
we are going to party all other holidays into submission. We’ve got mountains of ticker tape shredded from shitty insincere Valentines and enough cantaloupe flavored jelly bellies to pelt the Easter Bunny back to the religious doubt factory it came from. We’ve got a soundtrack of trust fall squeals to clink drinks to.
So why can’t I get you on the phone?
A new report by the Department of Miseries claims 8 out of 10 broken hearts are crushed beyond repair. It’s a tune you’ve been singing all week. You are every cynic’s back up choir.
I know what the world did to you. I know it’s easy to retreat behind the shields of graceful bitterness. It is the hardest thing in the world to tolerate being loved, and being loved again, like tanning on the surface of the sun.
But you don’t know what I know.
That report didn’t take into account that the most resilient parts of ourselves are hidden in the bomb shelters of each other’s eyes. It didn’t take into account the mounting evidence that joy is an involuntary muscle.
It didn’t factor in that this has been the best apocalypse ever.
So I am submitting a counter-report. I am submitting grandfather clocks, dozens of them, locked in a dust-clouded room illuminated with the ill romance of musty curtain light. An old bent over clockmaker is winding and freeing the pendulums at different times, setting loose a klutzy tinkling the sound like pyramids of teacups perpetually buckling.
In only two days time the clocks will synchronize. It’s a law of physics— vibratory frequencies in a closed system seek the path of least resistance. Pendulums will sway in perfect time and you would never see the thousand lazy changes it took, just the sudden satisfying lock step.
Everything wants to be bound to everything else.
Lightning charges someone’s porch wing night sky. It leads to two hands clasping electrically beneath a blanket that will someday smell like home. Neurotransmitters leap like liquid fish from crystal bowls so some kid can learn to play the guitar. He will write the song that will call her back to you.
Our hearts are just muscle fisted clocks, keeping their own time with this messy sentiment of drumming. Even the broken ones. Even yours.
“She recognized that that is how friendships begin: one person reveals a moment of strangeness, and the other person decides just to listen and not exploit it.”—Meg Wolitzer, The Interestings (via clairefoley)
“I think we should have more sexual education. Can you imagine if we didn’t have driver’s ed and people drove cars like they saw in the movies? Porn is adult entertainment, not education.”—James Deen (via afrometaphysics)
“Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something.”—Brandon Oda (via 5000letters)
“It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.”—Billy Collins, from his poem "On Turning Ten" (via beingblog)
“You must not reduce yourself to a puddle just because the person you like is afraid to swim and you are a fierce sea to them; because there will be someone who was born with love of the waves within their blood, and they will look at you with fear and respect.”—T.B. LaBerge // Things I’m Still Learning at 25 (via tblaberge)
“Without their chloroplasts plants would be left like the rest of us, to eat what they find. Instead they hold out their green palms and catch light. If there is magic in the world, surely this is it: the descendants of tiny creatures in leaves, capable of ingesting the sun.”—
“Spend your free time the way you like, not the way you think you’re supposed to. Stay home on New Year’s Eve if that’s what makes you happy. Skip the committee meeting. Cross the street to avoid making aimless chitchat with random acquaintances. Read. Cook. Run. Write a story.”—
Susan Cain, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking (via utterdiscord)
five sets of two hands, fingers spread wide
my best friend lying next to me squeaks out
“never have I ever masturbated”
a chortle and a shrug between the boys as they flick down their obligatory fingers
and I can’t help but feel a twinge in my stomach as my pinky follows suit
the silence in the room is thick and grey and suddenly sliced by
have you ever experienced fun?
I pull away a hair caught in my scarlet lipstick
in my reflection I see my table mate from english class
behind me she blinks twice and scoffs
“who are you trying to impress?”
the bathroom door is closed behind her before I can ask
the last time she did something to impress herself.
before a trip to the mall
one of my friends spends two hours
perfecting her bronzer
and choosing the perfect pair of shoes
the other rubs in dry shampoo
and is out the door in less than five minutes
they are two of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.
my father calls me beautiful through a mouthful of popcorn
as I pour a glass of milk to accompany my now third piece of leftover birthday cake
he plants a kiss on my cheek and I grin as I wipe it away.
she asks me what to do to start loving herself
and I send her away to my full length mirror
and demand to only speak to her
when she’s found something to adore
the way I did with my knobby knees
and tiger-striped hips
and big square teeth
fifteen minutes go by
and she finally points to the freckles on her nose
splits into a grin
the one that makes everyone weak in the knees
and I watch the lightbulb go off above her head
as she realizes
it’s never been her job to hate her body
i tell my sister she looks cute today
and the look on her boyfriend’s face
when she blurts out “damn right I do!”
I used to worry that I’d never find someone who loved me at all
and now my biggest fear
is finding someone who can adore me as much as I’ve come to.
”—seven thoughts on self love that came to me before I got my driver’s license (llb)
i love the term “partners” are we dating? are we robbing a bank? do we run a legal firm? are we the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies and are members of an elite squad known as the special victims unit? who knows.