1TB? Looks like someone will be uploading all her screenshots, lol.
omg soft reset xkit extension is the actual best thing that’s ever happened to me and my shoddy internet connection
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness
That most frightens us.
We ask ourselves
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small
Does not serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking
So that other people won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine,
As children do.
We were born to make manifest
The glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us;
It’s in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we’re liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.
i taped she’s all that the other day, because who doesn’t occasionally like to relive the 90s, and also—i fully admit—i never actually watched it during the time of my life that a quintessentially 90s high school romcom would have actually applied. (i used the word ‘applied’ loosely because those never really applied. aspects of them did, in the right light, when viewed at the right angle. the moments of cruelty passed like currency between high schoolers, primarily, which is universal and, in a way, comforting—or would be, if it wasn’t so familiar, and therefore so horrifying.)
it’s been a really, really long time since i was in high school, but the party scene in she’s all that was able to bring me back—like that—a snap of your fingers, a magic word, the sudden unkindness of one unhappy soul inflicted on another lonely one. i lived that. every day, i lived that. i was a poor girl attending a rich kids’ school. i looked ridiculous. i never styled my hair. i had enormous glasses and middle school friends who drifted apart and then i had no one, a notebook, jeans that didn’t fit right. those cruelties were small and unsubtle and at least i could rely on them. that someone would mention what i was wearing. that they’d laugh. that anything which began as a compliment would turn in on itself and turn on me to bare its ready poisons. ‘you look good today! so much better than you usually do.’ ‘did you actually comb your hair?’ ‘wow, your sense of style is really…developing.’ ‘did something happen to your sweater in the wash?’
at the time—because the perspective of an ugly thirteen year old whose mother dressed her practically, thriftily, exists only within the sphere of her glasses frames—this was the world. the universe. it eclipsed daily triumphs and joys and seemed eternal somehow, important, vital. that i was not popular; that i wasn’t cool; that in the night the planets would cease their orbit; that i could never know this secret world they lived in. and in a way, of course, part of that was my own doing. my own distancing. the rest was money, personality, fate. high school, especially that first year of it, is so achingly structured, a hierarchy without mercy, ruthless and painful and, most importantly, dramatic. a drama on which we all thrived.
you can look back on it later and see it for what it is: inconsequential. gone—like the snap of your fingers, a magic word. it was exactly as unimportant as anyone ever told me it was, though the cruelties, the sudden unkindnesses, remain. a major part of me, to the point where i’m still certain i wouldn’t be the same me without them.
so in a way, it wasn’t really as inconsequential as all that. it was small, like a stain on a pillow, one we turn over to the good side for company. we always know it’s there. we don’t transform the moment we remove our glasses; as a matter of fact, i honestly prefer the way i look with them, and hate the sight of myself in contacts.
what small, desperate little outcasts we all must have been. and some of us felt alone, and some of us didn’t. and some of us were cruel because we were unhappy, and some of us were cruel because it was easy. it was so many years ago, but why does it feel so much more visceral than any other memory? not the events, but the emotions. (and the music.)
Hey since it’s Mother’s Day here’s a thing that is nice to remember!
This is kind of a rude question.
There’s lots of reasons, too! Maybe the person you’re asking doesn’t want kids, and would prefer not to tell you in the hopes of avoiding a debate. Maybe the person you’re asking is not in a place right now in their relationship where they can do so, and your question just reminds them that their finances are in shambles or they’re fighting a lot with their partner.
Maybe that person has lost a child in pregnancy, because this is actually pretty common and something people don’t tend to talk about! Maybe that person would really like a child but can’t have one, which is, again, a pretty socially taboo subject.
Bottom line is, someone’s reproductive status is very, very personal, and I wish people would stop considering this question to be pleasant small talk.
Do you ever wonder how some people function in this world? Because I do.
We used to have a tenant that would put cash through the mail slot in an unlabeled envelope, and couldn’t imagine why we’d consider that a sub-ideal way of paying rent.