so i get some ridiculous anxiety sometimes. i mean dizzy-room-spinning-running-to-the-bathroom-to-vomit anxiety. i can’t breath and i catastrophize to the point of exhaustion. i have tried to manage it in some extremely unhealthy ways but i’ve ifnally reached a point where it is just not feasible. and i certainly cannot preach mental health and help others if i cannot get my own stuff under control. and i definitely cannot keep panic texting christine when i can’t handle it.
so i found this app and i just downloaded it to my phone. i think it was a good idea and i will start using it the next time i begin feeling anxiety.
i’m glad april posted that list of mental health apps.
If a woman is not attractive to the cat-caller, or more relevantly, has not made a visible _effort_ to be attractive to the cat-caller (demonstrated by not being the weight he finds attractive, or not wearing makeup or not dressing to whatever his personal standards are) they see that as a deliberate denial of services. The woman is not turning herself inside out to cater to his personal aesthetics, and that is perceived as a sexual rejection. Hence the hostility.
One of our biggest challenges, as women, and as feminists, is to break down this assumption of sexual entitlement, and another is to destroy the concept that our value, as people, is in our adherence to the aesthetic expectations of others.
i have a problem with spectatoring. i spend too much time looking at all my pieces and cringing at the folds and flesh. but sometimes i forget it and i love the way my skin feels and feel beautiful.
if only i could feel the latter all the time so i didn’t feel so disgusting for having eaten so much for breakfast.
#I love them like crazy
I’m dog sitting for my friend Breck and his boyfriend Michael (whom I don’t know very well). But they’re at a comic convention in Seattle today. The one pictured is Baxter. He peed a million gallons so far, but no poops.
I’ve also been snooping, like a good friend does. I was pleased to find that Breck owned all the sailor moon figurines and a working ocarina. I was unsurprised to find all the Walt Whitman, moulin rouge, rent, and the newsies (because gay stereotypes).
So I’m sitting on their couch watching evangelion and playing pokemon. Lazy Sunday indeed.
#my friends are all hilarious
|Breck:||Have you seen Steel Magnolias?
|Me:||Not yet, but I imagine I should at some point. My grandmother watched it enough.
|Breck:||Oh my god, you have to watch it. You will cry your eyes out.
|Simon-Peter:||Steel Magnolias? That sounds like a war-hardened vagina.
|Breck:||No. That's the iron curtain.
"A propos: I have often wondered what became of those nymphets later? In this wrought-iron world of criss-cross cause and effect, could it be that the hidden throb I stole from them did not affect their future? I had possessed her and she never knew it. All right. But would it not tell sometime later? Had I not somehow tampered with her fate by involving her image in my voluptas? Oh, it was, and remains, a source of great and terrible wonder."
Vladimir Nabokov from Lolita; 50th anniversary edition, page 21.
As I read this snippet to myself I felt this immense pulling at my chest and stomach. None of us forget that strange and misunderstood, unsettling feeling that creeps over us the first time a much older man drags his gaze across our young bodies. Of only 11 or 12 when we just begin to grow into more developed bodies, but still very much children, is when it begins. The innocent and curious stares of boys our own age are intriguing and expected, even exciting. But when it comes from men; the men that are our superiors and role models for adulthood- the feeling is a mixture of fright and confusion.
Humbert, or Nabokov, was right to say that it would ‘tell sometime later.” Because it is sexuality suddenly and without permission thrust upon an individual far too young to understand the feelings that accompany it.
I remember standing there is torn, cut off shorts and a loose tank top. It was the middle of july and everything wreaked of gas from the broken lawn mower sitting on your garage. I turned 12 a few months prior. You told us to go inside and drink lots of water so we wouldn’t get dehydrated. Your eyes linger on me as your daughter went through the door first. You kept staring and I didn’t move. I was afraid to for some reason. You looked me up and down and went back to tinkering. I avoided you for 3 weeks because I had no idea what I was feeling aside from fear.
That was the first time I witnessed this; my image being captured in a way unfamiliar and uncomfortable. My fate may not have been “tampered” with, but it shows. We know. We feel it. It only increases with age. But when it first occur, during an age when it never should.
With Humbert it might have come from a different place, but it’s all the same.
When am I allowed to say I felt adulthood and the world of men weighing down on me?
as much as i love this comic and its message there is another side of feminism that we often fail to address. in reference to the panel where brian is being teased for “throwing like a girl,” we often cast ideal over other behaviors. boys are not encouraged to express emotions (unless it is anger and only in acceptable terms). they are not encouraged seek help (as many women are raped and suffer from mental disorders but far less of the male population will ever seek help for it due to pressures to appear “strong”) as often as girls are. boys are not always encouraged to bond in healthy ways. they are not encouraged to display or express affection in as open terms as women are expected to (which is another issue entirely).
telling someone they throw or run “like a girl” will cease to be an insult when the ordinary aspects of humanity are no longer assigned to one trait of the female gender. brian won’t be a “pussy” because he’s crying about something. he will just be brian crying about something and his friends will want to help him and address it in a healthy way.
i feel like i am talking in circle but the point is this- how we raise boys is just as important as how we raise girls. it should be about how women should be encouraged to speak up for themselves and empowering themselves as much as it should be about teaching boys that expressing emotions and seeking help is necessary. Then, perhaps, in the following generations- she won’t be a “whore” and he wont’t be a “stud.” they will just be two people who engaged in sexual activity and then decided not to again.
(Source: chromehearts, via aoizure)
And add in “Drunk” for Native American to add insult to injury. So much truth.
one thing that has always bothered me is how people say “I’m american.” north america is the continent. not the country. candians are also american, as are mexicans- same logical that follows both the french and italian being european.
is it not horribly arrogant? to take the entirety of the continental identity and apply it to only our countrymen- its selfish. we try to own titles the same way we force them on other people.
words. words. words.
(Source: owning-my-truth, via nap-city)