in response to the horrific video of the little boy (poor kid) singing the extremely hateful anti-gay song in church:

(South Pacific, R&H)

You’ve got to be taught 
To hate and fear, 
You’ve got to be taught 
From year to year, 
It’s got to be drummed 
In your dear little ear 
You’ve got to be carefully taught. 

You’ve got to be taught to be afraid 
Of people whose eyes are oddly made, 
And people whose skin is a diff’rent shade, 
You’ve got to be carefully taught. 

You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late, 
Before you are six or seven or eight, 
To hate all the people your relatives hate, 
You’ve got to be carefully taught

i want back all the time i just wasted watching “kick-ass”. fucking terrible! nicholas kim cage!, i expected more from you.

facing a decision: cutting out a close family member who has been a constant source of anxiety and heartbreak. doing this might mean i miss out on a relationship with their children as well, which is the worst heartbreak of all.

discovered today that lupron was never ordered/i was never pre-certified. it might have been a simple error of being overlooked, but i’ve been told by my doctor and several nurses that the medicine was on it’s way (for months now). i am due to return to work (without intermittent FMLA leave) in a month, and i’m no closer to discovering why all my endo/IC symptoms have flared every single day for the past 8-10 months. all i’ve been told since january is “you might be depressed, thus your pain is worse.” and “you’re fat. that’s why your pain is worse.” (yes, in those words. seriously.) i’ve spent YEARS, YEARS YEARS YEARS going to doctors, researching the entire goddamn internet, trying every pill, diet, exercise, physical therapy—but i wouldn’t mention if i were depressed and needed a fucking pill? it’s asinine and avoidance. i’m not depressed, i’m over my head with irritation and anger.

i’m lost. in a mess of prescriptions, clueless family members, chronic, severe pain. i want to cry, but i feel too guilty and whiny to cry. i want to give up, but i’ve done it before, too many times. i’m just lost.

apushinthewrongdirection:

I’ve noticed some of my behaviours and some of the phrases/terms I use reflect negatively on women on a way I’ve never intended them to. I’ve had a far too lenient view on things like slut-shaming in the past, and the last few months have been a real wake up call.

I can thank people like …

I feel the same. I pay considerably more attention to my words these days and I’m much happier for it. She is really fantastic.

butterfliesonmywrists:

She brings home this big, green bag that says ‘Kahlua’ in big, gold letters on it, but she puts it away before I get a good look. I ask her what it is, and she just says “you’ll see.”

A couple hours later, she calls me into the kitchen to take a sip of her drink. It tastes like warm, melted dark…

This reminds me so much of my family. I have to consistently remind them “No, can’t drink diet soda. Or soda. Or juice.” “No, I can’t eat that.” “It isn’t funny that I spend so much time in the bathroom, you guys. It’s depressing.”

I’ve had symptoms since I was 12. I’m now 25. And I still must repeat these things during every visit (which is once a week usually). 

Perk #7 to living with your best friend/husband/partner-in-crime: having a crazy fantastic sex dream, waking up insanely horny and getting laid is an instant possibility.. While the sleep breath is horrendous, we still manage a good, good time ::sneak smiles::