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Reduced rent = fixed bike = giddy

So excited I could vomit (and almost did)

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Today was a beginning I want to remember:

Let this digital journal be a record of finishing.

Tags: whatever
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Why the FUCK are plastic bags still a thing people use?

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This is a thing that just happened.

This is a thing that just happened.

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Olive stands guard as @kristentoma takes a well-deserved break.

Olive stands guard as @kristentoma takes a well-deserved break.

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thesmithian:


If the dictum of good writing is “write what you know,” what do women and people of color know? What dreams and nightmares do they have? What are their battles and fantasies? What stories aren’t we hearing from them?

more.

thesmithian:

If the dictum of good writing is “write what you know,” what do women and people of color know? What dreams and nightmares do they have? What are their battles and fantasies? What stories aren’t we hearing from them?

more.

Photoset

blogoftheplanetoftheapes:

throughthewildblue:

You cannot buy electronics with food stamps. You cannot buy cigarettes with food stamps. You cannot buy pet food with food stamps. You cannot withdraw money with an EBT card (food stamps).

Do you know what else you can’t buy with food stamps? Shampoo, soap, laundry detergent, toilet paper, paper towels, tissues, tinfoil, plastic sandwich bags, toothpaste, cleaning products, tampons, pads, over the counter medications (such as Tylenol, Ibuprofen, etc.), and anything else you can think of that you cannot physically ingest for nutritional purposes.

Do you know what you can buy with food stamps? Food.

Do you know what it’s like to scrounge for change to buy non-edible necessities, use a credit card and EBT card (food stamps) during the same transaction, and then have the person in line behind you judge you for buying the ingredients to make a birthday cake?

People who disseminate false information about food stamps have never had to use food stamps.

These people literally don’t even know what foodstamps are.

#whiteness

(Source: sandandglass, via iamtheearthmother)

Tags: whiteness
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What the what? HOW IS THIS SO GOOD?!?

I have this problem sometimes with albums that are achingly good: I fear listening to anything else by the artist. What if it isn’t as excellent? It’s not that I would think less of him or her, but before that second step everything remains pristine. And is it so wrong to want someone we respect to remain pristine, especially in this era of constant criticism. (For example, this article manages to convey some surprisingly deep disappointment for the opening segment of the Oscars, MERE MINUTES AFTER IT AIRED.)

In a world (wide web) where everyone is given a voice, and most use it to denigrate other, much more talented people, I like to take a few and let an artist and his/her creation just be perfect before seeing what else they have done.

What the what? HOW IS THIS SO GOOD?!?

I have this problem sometimes with albums that are achingly good: I fear listening to anything else by the artist. What if it isn’t as excellent? It’s not that I would think less of him or her, but before that second step everything remains pristine. And is it so wrong to want someone we respect to remain pristine, especially in this era of constant criticism. (For example, this article manages to convey some surprisingly deep disappointment for the opening segment of the Oscars, MERE MINUTES AFTER IT AIRED.)

In a world (wide web) where everyone is given a voice, and most use it to denigrate other, much more talented people, I like to take a few and let an artist and his/her creation just be perfect before seeing what else they have done.

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"I just want to write someone’s favorite book."

— Markus Zusak at a Goodreads livestream on November 5, 2013 (via thegirlandherbooks)

(Source: raisingareader, via elsilvero)

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  • text from my boss: happy valentine's! Hope you have a heart on.
  • me: That's going on my tumblr.
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Ideas are fickle things:

I’m only going to explore one of the many avenues that title could be headed down and talk about the experience of having a new idea, one that tastes ripe, like accidentally taking a wrong turn that instead leads to the used bookstore everyone managed to overlook, leaving all the titles you’ve been meaning to grab but haven’t gotten to yet—mostly because they cost just a dollar too many—all of them inexpensive enough that a single ten spot is enough to walk out with an armload (which you do).

When I have those kinds of new ideas, I often see them in one of two futures: the first being the ideal version and wildly successful, which almost universally equates a fame of some kind; the second being the other end of the spectrum, either never leaving the completely failure-free bubble that encases an untouched idea, or breaching that bubble and finding myself giving up after the first step. So far I have been incredibly steadfast in walking only one of the two paths I have set for myself. As you are free to do, a simple Google search will tell you which one.

Why am I incapable of even envisioning the middle ground? Why do I instinctually shoot right to the extremes? When you consider the capacity that our culture has to drastically influence our individual social developments, how much of this problem am I supposed to feel responsible for? I think recognizing that such a question could be reasonably asked automatically makes you responsible for all of it.

And I think the point that my cannabis-laced conscience is really trying to get at is that our own personal satisfaction should rest squarely on our own shoulders. I know, this is pretty much the unattainable if you ever create anything of your own. Even outside of writing, as a cook/baker, I let too much depend upon reaction, regardless of how I, the creator, feel about it. But even if we can’t quite reach that kind of self-satisfaction, wouldn’t merely trying to make things a lot better?

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ether-eden:

{ yonce all on his mouth like liquor }

ether-eden:

{ yonce all on his mouth like liquor }

(via joshtheword)

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Deciding whether or not
to stand up & speak
can be like deciding whether
or not to open your mouth
with a grenade lodged in
your gut:

might be better to spare
those around you the
discomfort of shrapnel
and not give it any exit
between teeth, swallow
everything.

You wonder who placed it
there because your gut is
deep & shadowed, no finger-
prints or serial number to
trace, only the presence of
a grenade,

the absence of a pin, & the
knowledge that it may have
been your own, manufactured
in those shadows, as you are
wont to do from time to
time.

Tags: poetry
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Just Want To Draw Some Attention:

To the middle-aged Latino woman who swiped her MetroCard for me last night.

I am one of a horde of white people rapidly gentrifying Bushwick, a fact I am not necessarily proud of. This is usually evident from the way I dress, especially when I am going out for the evening, as I was last night. I was at the balance inquiry machine in the Jefferson St. subway station, taking out my wallet when, unbidden, she approached me, asking, “You need a subway ride?”

I was almost certain I had enough fare and was really only checking out of curiosity. “Here, I have an unlimited. Here, let me swipe,” she said, practically ignoring my half-mumbled response as she walked toward the turnstile, not waiting to see if I followed. I saw that my card had $10, twice as much as I would need to get to Manhattan and back.

I noticed her shiftily glancing at the MTA worker manning the booth. I don’t know if this is technically illegal, but I’m sure it has to be frowned upon, as it is letting people ride for free. But she did it anyway. She didn’t care that I’m a young white kid, didn’t care whether I had the fare or not, didn’t care that I hadn’t even asked. I had never seen her before and it’s possible I never will again.

I have no idea why she did that, just as I’m sure she had no idea that I recently had both wheels of my bike stolen and that it will take about $200 to replace them, so I’m trying to save money wherever I can. She had no idea that I hate paying for the subway when I love biking for free. She had no idea how wonderful it was to be on the receiving end of that kindness.

You haven’t the foggiest idea about the lives of any of the strangers you pass every single day. Do something nice, such as swipe your unlimited MetroCard for someone when you get off the train. It takes zero effort.

(Footnote: The only Conditions of Use are brief and in no way prohibit this. Why isn’t there a city-wide day when everyone does this?)

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"if people sat outside and looked at the stars each night, I bet they’d live a lot differently. When you look into infinity, you realize there are more important things than what people do all day"

findyoursanction:

- Calivn and Hobbes