animalstalkinginallcaps:
GREETINGS, DENIZENS OF THE DEEP! MY NAME IS CHIP WIGGLESWORTH AND I AM A STRANGER IN THESE LANDS! OR IS IT WATERS? WATERS! I AM A STRANGER IN THESE WATERS! IT WOULD BE MY PLEASURE TO FROLIC BENEATH THE WAVES FOR A BRIEF TIME, BUT ONLY WITH YOUR KIND PERMISSION!
I’M GOING TO WARN YOU AHEAD OF TIME, I SHED LIKE A DANDELION AND MY BLADDER HASN’T BEEN THE SAME SINCE I CHEWED THROUGH THAT EXTENSION CORD LAST YEAR!
IT HAS JUST OCCURRED TO ME THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T KNOW WHAT DANDELIONS OR EXTENSION CORDS ARE, AND ALSO THAT I DON’T REALLY KNOW HOW SOUND WAVES WORK UNDERWATER! I MIGHT NOT NEED TO BE YELLING! I APOLOGIZE! I CAN’T SEEM TO STOP MYSELF!
4:28 am • 24 March 2012 • 1,360 notes
think-progress:
Obamacare turns 2. Here are the facts about what Americans have already gained.
(via kateoplis)
2:51 pm • 23 March 2012 • 7,329 notes
“Creativity is paradoxical. To create, a person must have knowledge but forget the knowledge, must see unexpected connections in things but not have a mental disorder, must work hard but spend time doing nothing as information incubates, must create many ideas yet most of them are useless, must look at the same thing as everyone else, yet see something different, must desire success but embrace failure, must be persistent but not stubborn, and must listen to experts but know how to disregard them.”
—
(Source: hundredsofcharacters, via writeworld)
2:05 pm • 19 March 2012 • 116 notes
wearethe1in3:
When I was 20 and in college, I got pregnant. My boyfriend took me to the clinic. The abortion cost $190. I still have the receipt to remind me of how crucial the right to choose is. I felt only gratitude and relief after the procedure—not guilt or shame. It was 1980. Today, my daughter, born in 1990, is 21 and in college. I am standing up for her right to control her destiny. I am the 1 in 3.
1:24 pm • 19 March 2012 • 2,535 notes
“An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn’t know why they choose him and he’s usually too busy to wonder why.”
— William Faulkner
8:47 pm • 23 February 2012 • 5 notes
Memories Revisited
I lay in bed, replaying not only the days events but also the events of the last month, last year, last decade. The track is on slow motion and I pause at every second with a critical gaze. Again and again I go through scenarios, thinking about how I should have said those kind words here or stood my ground there. Sometimes I grit my teeth thinking about how I let them tread all over me and fooled myself into enjoying it. I grin just as often as I look back at how I defended my friends even when society demanded neutrality. I wonder if everyone is so quick to protect the dignity of those close to them only to be lax with the upkeep of their own…
The word regret is on the tip of my tongue, but I never let it enslave my mind. Why should I remorse the mistakes I’ve made? Why should I wish for a different past? Every faux pas, every misguided emotion, every morally bankrupt act; they are the parchment on which I write my view of the world. A beggar’s life may seem of little consequence, but he sees the world with a beauty only he can claim. He has his leaps for joy, his sudden laughter, his screams of anguish, his silent tears of dreams delayed…
So it is with me. I would not trade the most traumatic experiences of my childhood for your most heartfelt memories. But if you want to exchange tales of days long gone or tell me the troubles of yesterday than come on in, sit down, and cast off your burden, if only for a moment. I’m always ready to listen to those willing to do the same…
6:05 am • 23 February 2012
