I was on my way to a Camp meeting, just entering the 101-S onramp, when I saw a couple of hitchhikers with a sign labeled with my destination. I twisted the wheel and eased onto the brakes and pulled over before I had time to second-guess myself. The two guys and their dog walked over and climbed in. I nervously introduced myself, asked their names. The one who took the front seat was Rain, tall, black, early-twenties, dreadlocked former Psych major from New Orleans. The other was Evan, a skinny, quiet, sparsely-bearded white guy also in his early twenties, from Seattle. The dog, called Miss Hobo, was a big, calm sweetheart who panted happily in the back for the duration of our fifteen minutes together.
We talked about travel; where we’ve been and where we want to go. They were headed to the next town for food stamps, and Rain said that no matter where they go, Arcata is a kind of home. The way he said it felt warm and nearly profound.
We parked in old town and split ways. I’ll probably run into them again since it’s a very small town. This was the first time I’ve picked up hitchhikers, possibly not the best thought-out decision since I am female who was traveling alone, but we had a good conversation during our short drive and I touched lives with people I’d otherwise not have met. Life! I love it.
NO REALLY, LOOK AT IT! Cheap, green, recycled, mainly thrifted fashion from Emily and I as well as whomever else wants to contribute. Save the planet (at least a little bit), save money, and save on airfare ‘cause you’ll be looking fly. Yeeuh baby.
I am putting together an awesome project! I want to show my campers (at the awesome young girls’ feminist camp I am counseling for this summer!) the juxtaposition between the media’s portrayal of beauty and what REAL beauty is (pretty flexible, really!).
All I am asking is for…
Err’body check this out! Callie is a total hottie McLovelypants and a role model for young girls at an awesome summer camp. She’s looking for women to help with a photo project to teach her kids that beauty is so much more than what we see on magazine covers. Click through to her blog for the full scoop. <3
Has it always been this prevalent? It’s come up in an English class, in a discussion with a professor/friend yesterday, and today, when one of my housemates and I were trying to get to know each other by asking/telling one another exciting things about ourselves… I said that I had just recently had a story published. She responded, “Published like… fanfiction?” I was like… “No, like original. For money.”
What the heck. Who randomly tells someone they wrote fanfiction and expects them to be impressed? Not to bash fanfiction; it has a bad rap, but I firmly believe there’s much more to it than purple porn and plagiarism. But like. If I tell someone I wrote a story, why would they immediately assume, without any context to or against, that it fits into that very specific category? Or that I even know what fanfiction is?
I’ve been ill, which is especially lame because it’s the middle of summer and being bedridden isn’t the greatest. Here’s my list of home remedies which may or may not work, but that I’m trying anyway.
1. Eat local honey, suggested by storiesitelltoooften. I actually couldn’t find any local honey—I was probably looking in the wrong place, because you’d think Arcata would have a plethora of it—so I settled for some from Oakland, CA.
2. Take a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar, suggested by my mom’s co-worker. Supposedly it is highly alkaline which makes it hard for germs or whatever to survive. Hold your nose and swallow it fast.
3. Eat sushi with a shit ton of wasabi. This is my way of curing the common cold. The wasabi will clear your sinuses, which seems like a temporary effect but for some reason I usually get better a day or two afterwards.
So, I did all three of these yesterday and I’m still sick, BUT my appetite, which has been absent for days, came back this morning. Progress!
“Not being assaulted is not a privilege to be earned through the judicious application of personal safety strategies. A woman should be able to walk down the street at 4 in the morning in nothing but her socks, blind drunk, without being assaulted, and I, for one, am not going to do anything to imply that she is in any way responsible for her own assault if she fails to Adequately Protect Herself. Men aren’t helpless dick-driven maniacs who can’t help raping a vulnerable woman. It disrespects EVERYONE.”—
"Not being assaulted is not a privilege" "Men aren’t helpless dick-driven maniacs who can’t help raping"
Thank you. I’m so sick of hearing arguments contrary to these two statements every time I get into a discussion about sexual assault. It feels wrong to me that sharing this quote’s opinion colors my perspective as optimistic-rather than realistic.
“When I was a student at Cambridge I remember an anthropology professor holding up a picture of a bone with 28 incisions carved in it. ‘This is often considered to be man’s first attempt at a calendar,’ she explained. She paused as we dutifully wrote this down. ‘My question to you is this–what man needs to mark 28 days? I would suggest to you that this is woman’s first attempt at a calendar.’ It was a moment that changed my life. In that second I stopped to question almost everything I had been taught about the past. How often had I overlooked women’s contributions?”—Sandi Toksvig (via thatswhatshesaidquotes)
My friend ohhabsolutely needs a room to rent from August through December so that she can finish up her final semester at university before she leaves to study abroad. She is kind, funny, brilliant, open-minded, tidy, a great conversationalist, and a wonderful roommate—I should know, as I shared a teeny weeny dorm room with her for a year.
If you or anyone you know in Arcata needs a roommate (or two—our other friend/former roommate is becoming desperate for housing as well), please let me or ohhabsolutely know. Thanks! <3
Just so you know, your body is great. It does a wonderful job of keeping your soul in place and sweating to cool you down when you’re hot, crying when your sadness is too much for your mind to bear, closing its eyes when it is tired from a day of living and continuing to allow you to breath, smile, love, laugh, yell, sing, or whatever it is you do all day long.
“There is no such thing as too thin.” There is no such thing as too thin, skinny, slender, average, athletic, stocky, tall, short, muscular, lean, chubby, tubby, husky, portly, fat, obese or heavy. If you’re about to argue that “too skinny/fat” is unhealthy, well, sorry, but a person’s health is none of my business. I’m just talking about how you feel about that beautiful machine that you call your body. If you want to diagnose an eating disorder of any sort, talk to a doctor. This is merely a reminder that your extraordinary machine of a body is perfectly built, no matter how flawed.
I am a size 18. 246 pounds, last I checked, and about 5’5”. I have cellulite. My belly serves as a filler for most clothes and it bounces when I do jumping jacks. I also am a vegetarian and I recently stopped eating gluten. My blood pressure is perfect and so is my cholesterol. I do not have diabetes. I do, however, have a wonderful fiance who loves me exactly as I am. In fact, I was 201 pounds when we began our relationship and he has continued to love me, 45 pounds later. He doesn’t have a fat fetish, he just loves me. More importantly, though, is that I love myself. I know I am beautiful, sexy, pretty, whatever. I feel like a goddess when my hair is flowing, when my hips shake, when I wear dresses that hug my curves.
Your body does not make you unlovable. Your flaws do not negate your qualities.
I feel like this should be said more… That we need to be reminded, often. You are lovely exactly as you are. Your weight and skin and hair and eyes and height are all beautiful.
Reblogging because I agree 100%, and because this perspective needs to be said, seen, & understood on a far greater scale than it is.
Life is too short and the world too full of wonder and opportunity for us to limit ourselves or anyone else, either with negativity about our looks or otherwise. Your body is a wonderful, beautiful machine that deserves appreciation, recognition, and love in whatever way you choose to give and receive them, but there is so much more to you, to life, to consciousness than the bonefatbloodtissue that our brains, thoughts, goals, feelings, and memories live within.
Think you’re too this or not enough that to wear that outfit, get that job, take that trip, follow that dream? It’s not true. YOU CAN. You’re gorgeous and brilliant and prepared and deserving of love and worth it. Don’t let anyone convince you you’re not.
“I, personally, have a cunt. Sometimes it’s ‘flaps’ or ‘twat’, but, most of the time, it’s my cunt. Cunt is a proper, old, historic, strong word. I like that my fire escape also doubles up as the most potent swearword in the English language. Yeah. That’s how powerful it is, guys. If I tell you what I’ve got down there, old ladies and clerics might faint. I like how shocked people are when you say ‘cunt’. It’s like I have a nuclear bomb in my pants, or a mad tiger, or a gun.”—
“That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain’t I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain’t I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man – when I could get it – and bear the lash as well! And ain’t I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother’s grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain’t I a woman?”—Sojourner Truth, ‘Ain’t I a Woman?’, (1851)
This 25 year old nurse photographed her cervix daily for 25 days to show the way it changes at different times in a woman’s cycle. It is really fascinating.
Warning: this is a graphic internal look at the vagina/cervix. Really interesting.
This is the coolest thing ever. I remember the first time an OB-GYN held out a hand mirror and and asked if I wanted to see my cervix, it was fascinating and eye-opening. Our bodies are just so FANTASTIC!
He forgot that I was working from 8-12 today despite the fact that it’s been on the schedule he made all week, and despite having spoken yesterday about the fact that I was coming into work today. Whatever. So instead of, y’know, checking the schedule, he called in another employee to take over the shift and then was confused both when I called to say I’d be a little late (see nosebleed picture), and when I proceeded to show up. Again, whatever. He ended up assigning me to a different area and my 8-12 shift turned into an 8:20-3:00 shift.
I’m grateful for the hours, but holy crap, it would be nice to have some sense of certainty about what my shift is going to entail before I arrive! A seven hour shift is kinda different from a four hour shift; just sayin’.