January 2012
December 2011
“
I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.
Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re Doing Something.
So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn’t good enough, or it isn’t perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.
Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it.
Make your mistakes, next year and forever.
” —http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2011/12/my-new-year-wish.html (via neil-gaiman)
Pick A Number →
newyorker.com
Alfred Kinsey believed that human sexuality could be charted on a scale of 0 to 6, with 0 being “Exclusively heterosexual” and 6 being “Exclusively homosexual.” Owing to changing cultural boundaries and advanced research, Kinsey’s scale has recently been expanded:
0. So heterosexual that you think all other heterosexuals should be shot, because they seem a little gay.
1. So heterosexual that when a tax return or a loan application asks your gender you reply, “Straight.”
2. So heterosexual that the thought of two people of the same sex having intercourse doesn’t disgust you; it confuses you—“Wait a minute, if they’re both girls, which one falls asleep immediately afterward while the other one keeps babbling about her day?”
3. So heterosexual that when you go to see “Hugh Jackman: Back on Broadway” you can’t understand why he doesn’t just use his steel Wolverine claws to kill his backup dancers.
4. Heterosexual, yet still able to read the Times’ Arts & Leisure section without asking, “Who are Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin? School-board members from Staten Island?”
5. Heterosexual, but still willing to understand, at least theoretically, why two women having sex aren’t just practicing until their husbands get back from their golf date.
6. Heterosexual, yet still able to wear colors other than brown, olive green, and navy blue (but never pink or yellow, because you’re not some goddam circus clown).
7. Heterosexual, but sometimes fantasizes about bathing.
8. Heterosexual, but once, at college, glimpsed a roommate naked and thought, If everyone else in the world were dead, I would have sex with that person, as long as we both kept saying, “But everyone else is still dead, right?”
9. Heterosexual, but once, while serving in the military, made love with a same-sex partner, and afterward said either “I was so drunk,” “Wait—does that count as sex?,” or “Whoa. At least now I can check that off my bucket list, along with hot-air ballooning.”
10. Heterosexual, but during sex with one’s spouse often pictures the spouse with different genitalia sprouting from his or her forehead. This is not to be confused with imagining your spouse’s forehead as a place to hold keys, or to hang up your windbreaker.
11. Heterosexual, but while on business trips will frequently have intercourse with same-sex partners, primarily because they know the best local restaurants.
12. You identify as bisexual because you think it will double your chances of getting a date for Saturday night.
13. You identify as bisexual because you think it sounds French.
14. So bisexual that you fantasize not only about both Brad and Angelina but also about Regis and Kelly.
15. So bisexual that you get Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin confused.
16. Almost too bisexual, because you keep approaching straight married couples on the subway and murmuring, “The answer is yes.”
17. Homosexual, but occasionally attracted to the opposite gender, just to get your mom’s hopes up.
18. Homosexual, but willing to look at a member of the opposite sex without howling, “Dear God in Heaven, what is that?”
19. Homosexual, but sometimes still fantasizes about kissing someone of the opposite sex, as an item on a scavenger hunt.
20. Homosexual, but willing to speak to heterosexuals without muttering, under your breath, “Have you ever even been to a museum?”
21. So homosexual that both partners can achieve orgasm just by debating dream casting for the next revival of “Follies.”
22. So homosexual that you refer to you and your partner’s genitalia as “matchy-matchy.”
23. So exclusively homosexual that you made an “It Gets Better” video aimed at kids who were raised in homes without stacks of coffee-table books.
24. So overwhelmingly homosexual that you dream that Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin are your birth parents.
I’m a 17 ;)
“
Here’s the thing: If you’re using the holiday season to go out of your way to be an asshole to someone, believer or non-believer, you’re doing it wrong, and I wish you would stop. That’s not a war, it’s a slap fight and it’s embarrassing. As a non-believer, when someone says “Merry Christmas” to me, I say “Merry Christmas” back, because generally speaking I understand that what “Merry Christmas” means in this context is “I am offering you good will in a way I know how,” and I appreciate that sentiment. Left to my own devices, I use “Happy holidays” because I know a lot of people who aren’t Christians (or at least Christmas-centered) and that seems the best way to express my own good will; the vast majority of people get what I’m doing and appreciate that sentiment too.
I think most people get the idea that regardless of religion or lack thereof, we’ve designated this time of year as the one where we make an effort to be decent to each other. Accept it. Welcome it. Live it, in the best way you know how. Be tolerant and gracious when others share this sentiment in a way different than you would. Look for what they’re saying means, not just the words they use to say it. It would be a fine way to have everyone enjoy the season.
” —John Scalzi on The War on Christmas(tm)
The Invisible Question: Still Alive, Finals Edition →
theinvisiblequestion.tumblr.com
This was a triumph
I passed all my finals
HUGE SUCCESSIt’s hard to overstate my satisfaction
I’m done with my classes
I’ll put off my work because I can
Credit hours for all of us
Except the ones who have failedBut there’s no sense crying
Over silly mistakes
You just keep on writing
And you hope you don’t tank
And the projects get done
And the essays aren’t fun
But at least I am
STILL ALIVEI’m so exhausted
I just want to lay in bed right now
I really should get up and eat
And shower
And take my old essays
And throw every page into a fire
As they burn, I’ll laugh because
I am so glad to be doneNow these bits of ink make some beautiful lines
And I’m out of data
I’m submitting on time
So I’m glad my grade’s earned
Thing of all the things I learned
And the best part is I’m
STILL ALIVEGo ahead and leave me
I think I prefer to stay in town
I’ll just find another way to kill time
Maybe I’ll study
THAT WAS A JOKE
HAHA
FAT CHANCE
Anyway, this movie’s great
I haven’t seen one in weeksLook at me still thinking
When there’s nothing to do
When I see you at work
It makes me glad I’m not you
I’ve got a Tumblr dash to read
I might troll my Twitter feed
Or maybe Facebook ‘cause I’m
STILL ALIVEI survived finals and I’m
STILL ALIVEI’m doing nothing and I’m
STILL ALIVEHaving a break because I’m
STILL ALIVELet’s see a movie cause I’m
STILL ALIVEHang out all day because I’m
STILL ALIVESTILL ALIVE
STILL ALIVE
One teachers approach to preventing gender bullying in a classroom
“It’s Okay to be Neither,” By Melissa Bollow Tempel
Alie arrived at our 1st-grade classroom wearing a sweatshirt with a hood. I asked her to take off her hood, and she refused. I thought she was just being difficult and ignored it. After breakfast we got in line for art, and I noticed that she still had not removed her hood. When we arrived at the art room, I said: “Allie, I’m not playing. It’s time for art. The rule is no hoods or hats in school.”
She looked up with tears in her eyes and I realized there was something wrong. Her classmates went into the art room and we moved to the art storage area so her classmates wouldn’t hear our conversation. I softened my tone and asked her if she’d like to tell me what was wrong.
“My ponytail,” she cried.
“Can I see?” I asked.
She nodded and pulled down her hood. Allie’s braids had come undone overnight and there hadn’t been time to redo them in the morning, so they had to be put back in a ponytail. It was high up on the back of her head like those of many girls in our class, but I could see that to Allie it just felt wrong. With Allie’s permission, I took the elastic out and re-braided her hair so it could hang down.
“How’s that?” I asked.
She smiled. “Good,” she said and skipped off to join her friends in art.
‘Why Do You Look Like a Boy?’
