I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and than make the choice to share it with other people. You can’t just sit there and put everybody’s lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can’t. You have to do things. I’m going to do what I want to do. I’m going to be who I really am. And I’m going to figure out what that is. And we could all sit around and wonder and feel bad about each other and blame a lot of people for what they did or didn’t do or what they didn’t know. I don’t know.
I don’t think people get art. I feel like people think art is something created by a tortured soul and you have to go out of your way to go to an art gallery and you have some kind of emotional response and that’s art.
But that’s bullshit
You walk into a grocery store and you’re surrounded by art. Who do you think designs the packages? Fucking artists. Who do you think designed your house? Your bedsheets? Your car? Artists.
Art is a necessity. It’s everywhere, we wear it, we talk about it, we live in it. It’s everywhere. Every color, negative space, font, placement, material, you come into contact with an artist had a hand in that. TV, movies, music, graphics, It’s everywhere, it’s everything
A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life.
Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.
this fucks me up every single time
I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.
After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.
She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.
Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.
The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.
The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.
Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.
I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.
This is so fucking important and I think it’s something I needed right now
why did shipping turn into a contest of “most accurate” or “most likely to be canon” why do i have to get a 40-slide powerpoint, three defense lawyers, a fortune teller, and a background check of myself and my whole immediate family to say i want two ppl to have sloppy makeouts in a car
Also: when did shipping turn into a ‘which relationship is the most healthiest in real life terms.’ I mean I ship people because I think their story is interesting, not to get relationship advice.
I think my biggest “huh” moment with respect to gender roles is when it was pointed out to me that your typical “geek” is just as hypermasculine as your typical “jock” when you look at it from the right angle.
As male geeks, a great deal of our identity is built on the notion that male geeks are, in some sense, gender-nonconformant, insofar as we’re unwilling or unable to live up to certain physical ideals about what a man “should” be. Indeed, many of us take pride in how putatively unmanly we are.
Viewed from an historical perspective, however, the virtues of the ideal geek are essentially those of the ideal aristocrat: a cultured polymath with expertise in a vast array of subjects; rarefied or eccentric taste in food, clothing, music, etc.; identity politics that revolve around one’s hobbies or pastimes; open disdain for physical labour and those who perform it; a sense of natural entitlement to positions of authority (“you should be flipping my burgers!”); and so forth.
And the thing about that aristocratic ideal? It’s intensely masculine. It may seem more welcoming to women on the surface, but – as recent events will readily illustrate – this is a facade: we pretend to be egalitarian because it suits our refined self-image, but that affectation falls away in a heartbeat when challenged.
Basically, the whole “geeks versus jocks” thing that gets drilled into us by media and the educational system isn’t about degrees of masculinity at all. It’s just two different flavours of the same toxic bullshit: the ideal geek is the alpha-male-as-philosopher-king, as opposed to the ideal jock’s alpha-male-as-warrior-king. It’s still a big dick-measuring contest – we’re just using different rulers.
It’s just two different flavours of the same toxic bullshit: the ideal
geek is the alpha-male-as-philosopher-king, as opposed to the ideal
jock’s alpha-male-as-warrior-king.
So can we like…start normalizing the idea that not everyone dates or has their first boyfriend/girlfriend in junior high or high school?
There are plenty of people who go into college with little to no dating experience. There are tons of people who go into college having not had their first kiss yet. It’s not wrong; everyone experiences things at a different pace, and that’s okay. Don’t feel pressured into doing things you’re not comfortable with at the time just because you feel like you have to fill some sort of “quota.”
im bi but I tend to get crushes on fictional male characters more that real men and real women more than fictional female characters
so I guess I like to concept of men
i think this is a common feeling because men are written with such depth and complexity, whereas fictional women are not only few and far between, but are written half-assedly and from a place of little understanding of a woman’s standpoint.
meanwhile, real women are lovely and complex people, and real men are mostly just potatoes.
be poetic. if you find the way the light falls through your window and onto your bedroom wall pretty, write about it. call it soft and golden as sunlit honey. if it makes you glad to be alive then it’s not silly. you look for the beauty of things, be proud of that. say the heavy rain is kissing you. write about the glow of the moon, the dancing of flowers. make your world magical. collect your metaphors and treasure them.
It’s not stupid. I promise. It’s not stupid to turn into your 5 year old self and get happy beyond measure for the little things. It’s not stupid to be proud of yourself for completing a load of laundry and washing the dishes. You aren’t lame for patting yourself on the back when you chose a salad over a burger. You’re taking care of yourself and each victory – no matter how small – is worth celebrating.
At the end of the day, when everything else around you feels like garbage, these little moments of joy and satisfaction are what will get you through. You are allowed to be happy, for big things, for small things, for nothing at all. Allow these small moments to fill every moment possible. And eventually, there will come a day where you’ll go to bed realising that the entire day was made up of these silly, little moments. At that point, it’ll be just a little easier to go to sleep thinking that tomorrow might be a good day too.
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