The art of being emotionally detatched.

Today in lecture hall, a student offered, “lock all of the crazy people up,” as a solution to preventing mentally ill people from obtaining guns. Oh.

I do, on occasion, lose my mind. That’s my catch-22. My perfect pitch will always be contrast by my crazy. You know, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The first man I ever kissed was a schizophrenic. He wasn’t dangerous, and neither was I.

I wanted to ask that person in lecture hall, “Darling, what is ‘crazy’?”

Is crazy how you drive to work while texting?
Is crazy the look in a wife beater’s eyes?
Is crazy the stammer in the quiet boy’s speech?
Is there a particular pattern to crazy that we might follow?

Why do people draw a parallel between insanity and violence?
I’ve only known one mentally ill person whom the orderlies suspected had a propensity towards violence. Again, he was just misunderstood.

I have never seen a correlation between insanity and violence. I’ve been in two mental institutions. Never have I seen people more scared of their own shadows, or of their own voices. Never have I seen people more scared, beaten, and abused than I’ve seen there. They scream from the pain in their heads, and they’re promptly shoved up against the wall, or held down against a bed and sedated.

I’ll tell you what crazy is: crazy is personal suffering that society doesn’t understand.

C; How Do You Take Your Coffee? (series)
cosmicnaut:

robaemea:

WHOA WHOA WHOA THERE. HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?? IS THAT ROB? OUR BRO? IN A FUCKING SKIRT AND BRA AND SHIT? YOU FUCKING BET IT IS.
DOES THIS MEAN YOU SHOULD STOP USING MALE PRONOUNS, BECAUSE I’VE TAKEN PART IN SOMETHING STEREOTYPICALLY FEMALE? FUCK NO! YOU SHOULD RESPECT MY PRONOUN CHOICE NO MATTER HOW I AM PRESENTING MYSELF, UNTIL I SPECIFICALLY ASK YOU TO CHANGE PRONOUNS!
DOES THIS MEAN, BECAUSE I AM (FAAB)ULOUS AND PARTAKING IN STEREOTYPICALLY FEMALE ACTIVITY, THAT I AM FEMALE? DOES IT MEAN I AM REJECTING MY GENDERQUEERITY OR MAKING MY GENDER IDENTITY ILLEGITIMATE? FUCK NO! IT MEANS I WANNA WEAR A FUCKING SKIRT, SON!
DOES THIS MEAN YOU HAVE TO BE ABLE TO FEEL COMFORTABLE IN A SKIRT BECAUSE CLOTHES ARE GENDERLESS? FUCK NO! IF IT ISN’T FOR YOU, IT ISN’T FOR YOU!

this is an excellent post im glad i found it again

cosmicnaut:

robaemea:

WHOA WHOA WHOA THERE. HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?? IS THAT ROB? OUR BRO? IN A FUCKING SKIRT AND BRA AND SHIT? YOU FUCKING BET IT IS.

DOES THIS MEAN YOU SHOULD STOP USING MALE PRONOUNS, BECAUSE I’VE TAKEN PART IN SOMETHING STEREOTYPICALLY FEMALE? FUCK NO! YOU SHOULD RESPECT MY PRONOUN CHOICE NO MATTER HOW I AM PRESENTING MYSELF, UNTIL I SPECIFICALLY ASK YOU TO CHANGE PRONOUNS!

DOES THIS MEAN, BECAUSE I AM (FAAB)ULOUS AND PARTAKING IN STEREOTYPICALLY FEMALE ACTIVITY, THAT I AM FEMALE? DOES IT MEAN I AM REJECTING MY GENDERQUEERITY OR MAKING MY GENDER IDENTITY ILLEGITIMATE? FUCK NO! IT MEANS I WANNA WEAR A FUCKING SKIRT, SON!

DOES THIS MEAN YOU HAVE TO BE ABLE TO FEEL COMFORTABLE IN A SKIRT BECAUSE CLOTHES ARE GENDERLESS? FUCK NO! IF IT ISN’T FOR YOU, IT ISN’T FOR YOU!

this is an excellent post im glad i found it again

Violent tendencies and mental illness are not the same thing

amydentata:

Doing horrible things doesn’t require a mental illness

Not having a mental illness doesn’t render you incapable of committing atrocities

Everybody wants an easy answer for why people do horrible things

Everybody wants a clean separation between “normal” people and monsters

But that’s not how reality works.


 

Queerness, to me, is about far more than homosexual attraction. It’s about a willingness to see all other taboos broken down. Sure, many of us start on this path when we first feel “same sex” or “same gender” attraction (though what is sex? And what is gender? And does anyone really have the same sex or gender as anyone else?). But queerness doesn’t stop there.
This is a somewhat controversial stance, but to me queer means something completely different than “gay” or “lesbian” or “bisexual.” A queer person is usually someone who has come to a non-binary view of gender, who recognizes the validity of all trans identities, and who, given this understanding of infinite gender possibilities, finds it hard to define their sexuality any longer in a gender-based way. Queer people understand and support non-monogamy even if they do not engage in it themselves. They can grok being asexual or aromantic. (What does sex have to do with love, or love with sex, necessarily?) A queer can view promiscuous (protected) public bathhouse sex with strangers and complete abstinence as equally healthy.
Queers understand that people have different relationships to their bodies. We get what it means to be stone. We know what body dysphoria is about. We understand that not everyone likes to get touched the same way or to get touched at all. We realize that people with disabilities may have different sexual needs, and that people with survivor histories often have sexual triggers. We can negotiate safe and creative ways to be intimate with people with HIV/AIDs and other STIs.
Queers understand the range of power and sensation and the diversity of sexual dynamics. We are tops and bottoms, doms and subs, sadists and masochists and sadomasochists, versatiles and switches. We know what we like and don’t like in bed.
We embrace a wide range of relationship types. We can be partners, lovers, friends with benefits, platonic sweethearts, chosen family. We can have very different dynamics with different people, often all at once. We don’t expect one person to be able to fulfill all our diverse needs, fantasies and ideals indefinitely.
Because our views on relationships, sex, gender, love, bodies, and family are so unconventional, we are of necessity anti-assimilationist. Because under the kyriarchy we suffer, and watch the people we love suffering, we are political. Because we want to survive, we fight. We only want the freedom to be ourselves, love ourselves, love each other, and live together. Because we are routinely denied that, we are pissed.
Queer doesn’t mean “don’t label me,” it means “I am naming myself.” It means “ask me more questions if you curious” and in the same breath means “fuck off.

jessicavalenti:

Great ad campaign from the Maine Coalition Against Sexual Assault. More posters here. 

waywardvictorianconfessions:

To be honest, I don’t really care about Emilie’s personal life or anything like that. I just like her music. I’m like that with every musician, though.
[blank image]

waywardvictorianconfessions:

To be honest, I don’t really care about Emilie’s personal life or anything like that. I just like her music. I’m like that with every musician, though.

Every time someone complains about social justice bloggers I am reminded of the need for social justice.

problematize:

Every time someone complains about social justice bloggers I am reminded of the need for social justice.

Also, I am reminded about the misinformation, lack of history, and sheer ignorance that exists in regards to social justice.

While sometimes I think people want to complain about the *methods* of certain social justice bloggers, too often people end up complaining about social justice in general, including its goals, which terrifies me.

When you dismiss social justice, you may not think you are, but you are dismissing the commitment of moving towards an equitable society free from oppression.

When you dismiss social justice, you dismiss the experiences and voices of people who have experienced and are experiencing (often multiple) oppression(s). You tell people who have experienced racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, ageism, classism, cissexism, colonization, etc. that their experiences and voices do not matter.

When you dismiss social justice, you dismiss all the varied forms of human rights, including (and where do I even start here?) gay rights, women’s rights, trans rights, labour rights, collective cultural rights, rights to food and water, rights to shelter, and rights to freedom, equality and dignity.

When you dismiss social justice, you dismiss social policies that combat oppression — everything from affordable housing to employment equity.

When you dismiss social justice, you also dismiss movements and events that stem from social justice, like, say, the civil rights movement, anti-globalization movements and all sorts of protests.

Social justice is important and it is worth striving towards. By all means, critique the methods of certain individuals and/or groups, but do not throw the baby out with the bathwater.

tattooeddicks:

popcornmassacre:

whenever i see posts like this i makeup backstories for the slutty girls


wow okay the above is absolutely flawless and perfect

tattooeddicks:

popcornmassacre:

whenever i see posts like this i makeup backstories for the slutty girls

wow okay the above is absolutely flawless and perfect

iloveyoulessthanpunk:

ugly-feelings:

sometimes i just want to get a fake orange spray tan and bleach my hair blonde and wear hollister and a&f and american eagle and uggs exclusively and wear frosted lipglosses and make ducklips faces and care about jersey shore and gossip girl. because apparently “nice” dudes hate when girls that because it’s “fake”, it’s “slutty”, it’s overdone/tasteless/”dumb” but fuck you. everything is fake. all persona is persona including what you’ve been conditioned to perceive as a “neutral”/”inoffensive” appearance.

because i don’t want your “respect”, and i certainly don’t need your advice on how to “respect” a body. i don’t need your fake concern about skin cancer and burns on my scalp when my body doesn’t even feel like mine sometimes. when breast cancer becomes selling sex to teenage boys who wouldn’t tell you about the lump in your breast they felt while they were feeling you up. your concern for my body will always be mediocre until it is mine to create/destroy/create, and even then it wouldn’t even matter because you do not inhabit this flesh, or these organs, or this mucus/snot/bile/blood/spit/fluid/fluid/fluid. so stop trying to crawl into my bed of skin, asshole. stop trying to own my ugliness. you can’t have it. too bad, so sad.

i don’t want you to wait before i leave the room to talk about how gross i am. i want my skin to be greasy and leave big orange stains on every man who touches me and who i choose to touch. i want my hair to make you puke. i want my clothes to remind you of how capitalism lives in tube tops and booty shorts just as well as it does in jeans and a t-shirt or whatever the fuck makes you feel like the girl you wanna fuck is real “authentic”, real “down-to-earth” or whatever. i want to remind you that every picture is posed. no expression can be pure when you can see the camera and the camera can see you. i want you to know that i spent three goddamn hours straightening my hair and putting on my eyeliner over and over again and removing it over and over again so there’s light grey rings under my eyes and when i reapplied my lipgloss for the 20th time tonight in the backseat of my best friend’s car it hit a pothole so it’s smudging against my lipliner and i’m still not “sexy” to your pretentious jonh lennon art school ass. my labor is MINE, and it’s ugly because god loves ugly. i wasn’t put on this earth to give you a hard on. i want to scream and drink and grind to shitty club music because i want to scare the living shit out of you. i want you to go home and post a facebook update about how “our generation is doomed” and get twenty likes from all your pretentious john lennon art school friends and all your fedora-wearing self-entitled pasty sarcastic bros and all your edgewatch xvx police officers and all your “nice guy” indie rock microbrew date rapists who all secretly wish they could make a man want to remove himself from this earth just by getting a spraytan.

i don’t want you to want to fuck me, BRO. i want you to have to look at me. i want to be the bright orange flesh you don’t want to fuck but you also can’t ignore. i want you to be very, very scared of what is going to come out of my mouth. i want you to cringe at the sound of my voice because it is both too feminine and too loud. your disgust makes me even louder, even more powerful. and it’s so funny to me, so funny to me, because you know and i know we are both just pretending we aren’t aware that deep down you so badly wish you could be a monster, too.

This is the best fucking thing I’ve ever read in my life.