adjective: characterized by or exhibiting excessive vanity; boastful; thinking too highly of oneself. oh and if you disagree and don't think I'm better than you in every way, please by all means, let me know: vainglorious.sarah at gmail
For 9 days. Well maybe, might go to NC for a couple days.
Visited my esteemed and perfect male sibling this week. Haven’t seen him in a minute — 1.5 years — and we had a grand time.
Colorado is pretty.
Here’s a sure-fire way to know that you hate women: when an incident of intimate partner violence in which a man knocks a woman unconscious gains national attention and every question or comment you think to make has to do with her behavior, you really hate women. Like, despise.
There is no other explanation. There is no “I need all the facts.” There is no excuse. You hate women. Own it.
Now, you probably don’t believe you hate women. You probably honestly think you’re being an objective observer whose only interest is the truth. You are delusional.
We have this problem in our discourse around the most important challenges we face where we feel we have to be “fair to both sides.” But sometimes, one of those sides is subjugation and oppression. If you’re OK with legitimizing that side in the interest of “fairness,” you’re essentially saying you’re OK with oppression as a part of the human condition. That’s some hateful shit.
Mindy Hung, quoted here: What Are Your Stress-Reads? - NYTimes.com
It’s always great when you share similar tendencies with others and feel less … random? I stress read advice columns, historical fiction, romance, and twitter.
This quote is also great, the way I think:
"… I prefer long-form (novels generally) over short-form, again, because it’s something I can really fall into and reading it over days means it runs in a parallel track to my regular life — something I look forward to.” — Posie Harwood
I’ve never been a super Adams fan, though I enjoy him I guess, but I really like this quote. And this article is pretty great.
it’s possible to feel like 20 emotions at once. or maybe that’s just a me thing.
it’s possible to call your mother at 11pm her time crying your eyes out on a sunday night and not be asking for anything but an ear.
it’s possible to be a constant contradiction. profesh as fuck but also someone who says profesh as fuck.
it’s possible to be able to manage and handle it all while also freaking the fuck out. it’s a coping mechanism.
it’s possible to love being single and hate being single all at once. to want love and partnership and help while also understanding that shit is hard as fuck when you have to worry about someone else.
it’s possible to feel as if your heart will burst with affection and appreciation for all the nice people praising you and also wish they would stop talking to you, stop complimenting you, stop burdening you with their expectations. i’m nothing special i promise. but also, goddamn i am the best.
it’s possible to doubt yourself hourly while also fully knowing it’s totally fine, you’re totally capable.
it’s possible to have emotional meltdowns in private and write weird lengthy tumblr posts and still be capable of keeping it together for your friends and family who are worried you’re about to snap.
it’s possible to ask for help and receive help and not feel guilty for it. i’m not sure how it’s possible as i’ve never been good at it. but i’m sure it is. i’m sure of that.
it’s possible that people will miss you and you family and friends and coworkers and clients aren’t lying when they say this. it’s possible that you will someday be able to accept that. until that’s a reality, it’s possible to not refute those claims.
it’s possible that everything is wonderful and still hurts so much.
it’s possible that you are beyond excited. and terrified.
it’s possible that you are a bit of a drama queen. and you like it so so so much.
possible and valid. stop beating yourself up girl.