“When error is so often repeated it becomes very important to repeat the truth; especially as good men are apt to be quiet, and selfish men are prone to be active.”—Lydia Maria Child (Unitarian, author, reformer) An Appeal In Favor of That Class of Americans Called Africans (1836) p.209 (via uuquotes)
“Home does not consist in house and land but in friends, our partner and children, and our mind.”—Abigail Alcott (Unitarian, reformer, abolitionist) in Eve LaPlante, My Heart Is Boundless p.61 (via uuquotes)
“I’m not saying don’t complain. I’m not saying the arguments about better casting choices are not true. I’m not saying you aren’t entitled to say loudly and repeatedly how much you hated it. However, I wonder how many people who absolutely hated what they saw took the time to tweet, facebook or write to NBC and say “thank you so much for being the first network in modern memory to attempt to bring the magic of live theatre performances to a larger audience, and we hope you’ll take even greater risks next time to ensure the performances live up to the material.” If all NBC hears is “it was terrible” they just may decide it isn’t worth doing again. That’s a loss for all of us.”—Eviscerating The Sound Of Music Live | It Seems To Me… (via girlwithalessonplan)
I’m pretty neutral on all things Sound of Music, but this seems like a good point.
I hate the song “Baby, it’s Cold Outside”. It’s like the Christmas version of Blurred Lines.
What’s funny is I only ever knew the song with the women singing the dominant lines because of show choir, so I was all “Yes! female in control!” The first time I heard an original, I was like, “The hell is this?”
“The 113th (Congress) hasn’t passed the bills every Congress does like a highway bill, or a defense bill, or a farm bill, or a budget. But what do we need a budget for? Clearly not for highways, defense or food! Besides, Congress did pass a bill insuring that people can fish near dams on the Cumberland River, AND (House Republicans) also passed deep cuts in food stamps for the poor. Which is good solid governing, because the poor don’t need food stamps anymore now that they can fish near dams on the Cumberland River.”—STEPHEN COLBERT, on what is now officially the least productive Congress — only 55 bills passed this year, with only a week left in their session — in American history, on The Colbert Report (via inothernews)
Old English (Anglo-Saxon):Eft he axode, hu ðære ðeode nama wære þe hi of comon. Him wæs geandwyrd, þæt hi Angle genemnode wæron. Þa cwæð he, "Rihtlice hi sind Angle gehatene, for ðan ðe hi engla wlite habbað, and swilcum gedafenað þæt hi on heofonum engla geferan beon."
Middle English:In þat lond ben trees þat beren wolle, as þogh it were of scheep; whereof men maken clothes, and all þing þat may ben made of wolle. In þat contree ben many ipotaynes, þat dwellen som tyme in the water, and somtyme on the lond: and þei ben half man and half hors, as I haue seyd before; and þei eten men, whan þei may take hem.
Early Modern English:But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love!
Modern English:Moving forward using all my breath. Making love to you was never second best. I saw the world crashing all around your face, never really knowing it was always mesh and lace. I'll stop the world and melt with you. You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time. There's nothing you and I won't do. I'll stop the world and melt with you.
I just realized how fucking disgusting it is that it’s considered healthy and normal for teenage boys to eat everything ever yet teenage girls are obviously also growing but are fucking dieting all the time and shamed for eating while they’re growing
“The years between eighteen and twenty-eight are the hardest, psychologically. It’s then you realize this is make or break, you no longer have the excuse of youth, and it is time to become an adult – but you are not ready.”—
“The pleasures of books, music, and pictures ought to touch every life at some point. Some aesthetic pleasures, it is true, are won only after long study and preparation, but the best art is universal in its appeal”—Mary Ellen Richmond (Unitarian, social worker, author, a developer of social work and research) Friendly Visiting Among The Poor (1906) p.132-133 (via uuquotes)
Yesterday privilegedwhitegirl asked if I was going to finish my NaNoWriMo book.
LOL. I wrote a couple of thousand words. It was hardly even an attempt. A big part of it was time. November was a whirlwind of conferences and sub days and being several assignments behind in grading.
It was also a whirlwind of not being present with my family. My brother shot his first deer this month and texted me a picture. Today, my dad hosted a huge dinner for all of our extended family, most of whom I haven’t seen in over two years. I wasn’t there.
When my mom asked me about coming to visit them for Thanksgiving, I told her I couldn’t afford it (true). My stepdad called me back and offered to pay my way, which I know they can’t afford. The truth was (is) that I don’t want to go see them; out loud, I said that the real problem was the sheer volume of driving (also true: eleven hours one way by myself is misery).
As much as I miss my mother and stepdad and baby (16, but who’s counting) brother, I feel really good about the decision to not go to KY for Thanksgiving. It would not have been a break and I would have returned emotionally and physically exhausted, reeking of cigarette smoke and depression.
Of course I’m here with mb24jg and her family, and it has been a really good, low-pressure long weekend. I am once again humbled by the generosity and kindness of a friend’s family, a recurring theme in my life. There has been an abundance of delicious food, lots of baking, and good company. The visit here has left me in a much more positive and relaxed mindset than visiting my own mother ever will.
I don’t know what to do with that, to be completely honest, even though it’s an emotion I’ve been feeling for nearly twenty years. I can’t tell if it makes me a terrible daughter, or if it is more a reflection on her being a terrible mother, or if it just results from a terrible set of uncontrollable tragic circumstances, or some combination thereof.
I would have really enjoyed myself at Dad’s this weekend, though. I couldn’t get there, though. Dad did not offer to buy me a plane ticket, even though he could have probably afforded it. To be fair, I didn’t ask, but then I did just ask for money towards the Christmas ticket. The thing about my dad is that he is really self-involved, and I don’t occupy any space in the center of his life anymore. He loves me, of course, and when I ask for a thing he generally tries to make it happen for me. He doesn’t see me as an integral part of a family holiday celebration. I don’t really know what to do with that either, so I just spend a lot of mental space being nostalgic for when I was young and Dad and I just had each other.
Anyway, I would have really missed the time with mb24jg.
The real reason I didn’t finish my book has not much to do with time and everything to do with inspiration (as cheesy as that sounds). I know I have a book in me. And I know that I can string words together pretty well. But I don’t know which story to tell or which words to use. I keep telling myself to be patient, and that the story will show itself when the time is right, but I’ve been impatiently staring at a blank page since I was 12, waiting for this damn story to materialize.
If I knew how to work for it I would. If I knew how to mine a story I’d rip through the earth with my bare hands to find it. If I knew how to build it I would break my back to lay the bricks. If it had to be planted I’d plow acres by hand for it, work until my hands cracked and bled, work until I was sunburned and sweating and caked with dirt.
If I knew how to make a place for myself in my own family I would do that too.
This past year—this current fall—I have been the happiest I’ve ever been, I think. I am in love with my job and my school and my home life. I just can’t seem to shake this particular set of stressors, and they feel like anchors. Anchors that haven’t actually managed to lodge into a specific spot and hold me steady; anchors that I’m constantly dragging through heavy silty mud.
I’ve always been a “say what you mean and mean what you say” kind of person. I’m not a bullshitter, and I avoid people who can’t be straight with me. I’m not abrasive. I’m not rude. I’m just straightforward and honest, and I expect the same in return. I could go on and on about how this helps my marriage, my rapport with my students, my family, etc. but I’m sure you can figure it out.
The reason this is so timely, is that the hubs and are on the sidelines watching our friends’ marriage fall apart because of this. This lack of honesty. No, no one’s cheating or doing anything like that. It’s honestly because one is saying things like, “Go ahead, it’s fine.” Then later they say, “HOW COULD YOU GO WHEN I NEEDED YOU HERE?!”
So here’s my public service announcement. Ladies and gentleman, no one can read your mind. Not even your beloved soulmate. But, if you tell them what you want, I bet they’ll do their best to give it to you. I bet they’ll stay home when you ask them to. But if you tell them to go, they’re going to believe that you’re being honest with them, and they’re going to go. I don’t mean go forever, I just mean go out with their friends or whatever they want to do. They’re going to believe you. So tell them the fucking truth. If you want them to stay home because you don’t feel well, say so. If you’re really unhappy about the path in life you’re going down (TOGETHER), you should probably say something. If you’ve had second thoughts about your life plan, YOU SHOULD PROBABLY SAY SOMETHING. Because your partner is going to be skipping along happily until further notice. And frankly, it’s unfair to them to expect them to read your mind, no matter how romantic that may seem.