A boy sprawled next to me on the bus, elbows out, knee pointing sharp into my thigh.
He frowned at me when I uncrossed my legs, unfolded my hands
and splayed out like boys are taught to: all big, loose limbs.
I made sure to jab him in the side with my pretty little sharp purse.
At first he opened his mouth like I expected him to, but instead of speaking up he sat there, quiet, and took it for the whole bus ride.
Like a girl.

Once, a boy said my anger was cute, and he laughed,
and I remember thinking that I should sit there and take it,
because it isn’t ladylike to cause a scene and girls aren’t supposed to raise their voices.
But then he laughed again and all I saw
was my pretty little sharp nails digging into his cheek
before drawing back and making a horribly unladylike fist.
(my teacher informed me later that there is no ladylike way of making a fist.)

When we were both in the principal’s office twenty minutes later
him with a bloody mouth and cheek, me with skinned knuckles,
I tried to explain in words that I didn’t have yet
that I was tired of having my emotions not taken seriously
just because I’m a girl.

Girls are taught: be small, so boys can be big.
Don’t take up any more space than absolutely necessary.
Be small and smooth with soft edges
and hold in the howling when they touch you and it hurts:
the sandpaper scrape of their body hair that we would be shamed for having,
the greedy hands that press too hard and too often take without asking permission.

Girls are taught: be quiet and unimposing and oh so small
when they heckle you with their big voices from the window of a car,
because it’s rude to scream curse words back at them, and they’d just laugh anyway.
We’re taught to pin on smiles for the boys who jeer at us on the street
who see us as convenient bodies instead of people.

Girls are taught: hush, be hairless and small and soft,
so we sit there and take it and hold in the howling,
pretend to be obedient lapdogs instead of the wolves we are.
We pin pretty little sharp smiles on our faces instead of opening our mouths,
because if we do we get accused of silly women emotions
blowing everything out of proportion with our PMS, we get
condescending pet names and not-so-discreet eyerolls.

Once, I got told I punched like a girl.
I told him, Good. I hope my pretty little sharp rings leave scars.

'My Perfume Doubles As Mace,' theappleppielifestyle. (via arthurpendragn)

jameshance:

"Wookiee The Chew" - By James Hance

"Every journey starts with a single paw print…"

The Chewniverse is expanding!

x

My site / My Facebook / Original Art on eBay

notaloneintheuniverse:

rainbowrowell:

Jon Stewart vs. People Who Don’t Understand How Birth Control works

There will never come a day where I will not reblog this.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle-Earth.

- George R.R. Martin  (via indisposablehero)

This is one of the most beautiful quotes I think I have ever read. I love it, and I will treasure it for my entire life.

(via draodoir-mna)

tastefullyoffensive:

[happyjar]
janinekspendlove:

RSS (recruit station) South Bend -12 out -39 windchill and 18 inches of snow on the ground.
Reason #4,268 I love the Marine Corps. 

janinekspendlove:

RSS (recruit station) South Bend -12 out -39 windchill and 18 inches of snow on the ground.

Reason #4,268 I love the Marine Corps. 

bobjackets:

For the nerd in all of us.

bobjackets:

For the nerd in all of us.

dduane:

officialkylieminoguedragqueen:

why go to art school when you can just be a painting dog

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog

peterpayne:

Wow, 3D printers have really come a long way.

peterpayne:

Wow, 3D printers have really come a long way.

kuueater:

opticoverload:

What does it mean?

YOU CAN NOT HIDE. I SEE YOU.

kuueater:

opticoverload:

What does it mean?

YOU CAN NOT HIDE. I SEE YOU.

I want a horror game with a mic set that relies on you being quite when there is a monster or something, because the sound you make, not your character, but you lures it and gives away your position so if you scream or breath heavily it can give you away so you play most of the game in mute terror

kyroki:

or purposefully shout to draw it say for like a challenge or to save a friend in multiplayer or something

morefunthanbeingsad:

physicsphysics:

An interesting model of our solar system’s path as it travels through space in the Milky Way.
Certainly a departure from usual models that show the Sun as a static object, which it certainly isn’t

I had no idea this was happening. Where are we going?

morefunthanbeingsad:

physicsphysics:

An interesting model of our solar system’s path as it travels through space in the Milky Way.

Certainly a departure from usual models that show the Sun as a static object, which it certainly isn’t

I had no idea this was happening. Where are we going?

kidmograph:

Windows9

kidmograph:

Windows9

hatcadet:

comics-are-sexy:

Why would u torture me like this

This and the story* about the young man practically paralyzed with cerebral palsy, to the point he can’t speak, whose family will put him on the roof so he can look out over the city, and he witnesses a battle with Spidey and Morpheus, and there’s a line, when Spidey takes off his mask to talk to the guy, about how the young man can see the tremendous sadness behind Spider-man’s eyes, even when he’s smiling at the guy and telling him it will be okay…

These stories stick out to me.

*(Spectacular Spider-man Volume 3: Here There be Monsters)