tieflinggay:

tieflinggay:

i hate the idea of a True Self that you Never Show To Anyone like the me by myself isn’t me partly because humans are defined imo by their social interactions as we are social creatures but mostly because that guy is a gremlin. the disgusting idiot who crawls out of my bed at 1pm and eats peanut butter from the jar isn’t me he’s the manifestation of a collection of weird impulses that all give way at once. saying that dude is Truly Me In An Objective Way, as if that exists, is such bullshit like [holds up a creature that is on the cusp of going insane because its species literally cannot be alone for any significant amount of time] behold, a True Self! give me a break

peanut butter gremlin man is exactly as True as the dude who got invited to a frat party is exactly as true as the man who goes to job interviews and doctors appointments and applies to specialized courses and it’s useless to insist that one is truer than the others. truth isn’t real and peanut butter man has a 3.5 gpa. the self is a whole even when we insist on looking at it in situational fragments

akiwuff:

gaypeopletwitter:

God @ straight girls

water-whisp:

uendwen:

stormyskiesandbutterflies:

faerieglade:

faerieglade:

“theyre homophobic but theyre good people!!!” hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. are they really. are they REALLY. are they. are theyr eally. Are the

this post is making straight people mad keep reblogging

“theyre racist but theyre good people!!!”

“theyre transphobic but theyre good people!!!”

“they support laws that allow school shootings but theyre good people!!”

“they appoint rapists in the supreme court but theyre good people!!!”

Yeah they’re. they’re not. they’re really not.

Good people don’t hurt others knowingly.

Good people can make mistakes and unknowingly hurt others through ignorance.

…But good people don’t continue to make those same mistakes after seeing the damage they’ve caused.

Good. People. Don’t. Hurt. People. Knowingly.

They’re ‘ good people ’ to ‘ you ’.

vaspider:

I am allo as fuck. I experience lots of romantic attraction. I get crushes all the ding dang time, of all sorts. (Side note, I didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘squish’ for a long time, because I had never had a crush that didn’t have some sort of I MIGHT LIKE TO DO A SEXY THING component. And then I realized I totally have a squish on Reggie Watts from the Late Late Show. I just want to snuggle and talk about Westworld? But I’m like super crushing on him in a snuggly friend way?)

Anyway. Here’s the thing. Like. I can choose to either be an inclusive person who stretches out my arms and says, “come on up, bring that bit of wood you’ve been clinging to, and add it to our raft so that our raft is bigger, and we will all weather the storm together. I can see that you are hurt and tired, and I, too, am hurt and tired. And together we have a better chance of surviving.”

Or.

I can shove people off the raft, have a smaller raft because people aren’t bringing me their life jackets and bits of flotsam they’ve been clinging to, have a shittier crew on that raft because we’re all focused on who should and shouldn’t be on the raft rather than how we can get the raft to a safe harbor and take care of everybody on it until we get there.

Those are the choices. The only reason to shove someone off the raft is if they’re actively, that individual, a danger to people on the raft, because no one ends up clinging to flotsam in the middle of this metaphorical ocean unless they belong on the ding dang raft in the first place. They’re all on the big sturdy SS Cisheteroalloperipatriarchy. They don’t need our raft and they don’t want it.

Clearly, I choose the first one. And I’m glad to welcome you up onto my raft. The seas are high and choppy, and we’re not gonna make it if we have to weather these waves alone.

h0tbobby698240216433122y5164231:

fieldnotesfromtheunderworld:

thefearofcod:

every STEM motherfucker out there owes me five fucking dollars if they’re gonna ask if they can just do my job for shitsies. some 35 year old chem PhD alum is like hey i wanna take a year off and write and work in an archives and get paid for fun, any archivists able to talk about this with me?

yeah I can talk with you about it, Linda. How many languages do you read? Living languages? Dead languages? 90% of documents are not in english. How’s your programming? your world history? Local history? What’s your fine art credentials like? Can you read cursive? Old cursive? Bad cursive? Old bad cursive, with weird abbreviations and spellings? You know what a long S looks like? How’s your paleography? Have you heard of it? You know how to do a reference interview, like I’m doing right now, because I have an entire class on it? 

“oh well i could come from a conservation angle” Could you? How’s your essential tremor? Do you know Western color theory? Are you patient? How’s your attention to detail?

like I read four languages and I am BARELY qualified. I taught myself paleography. Can you tell a post-mortem photo from a family portrait? How’s your eye for historical fashions? Can you place a photo by the shape of a corset? The pattern of a kimono? HOW ODD, because I can, because I taught myself, because Old Shit Profession does not in fact play.

“gosh, i had no idea archives were so complicated!” yeah girl. I know. That’s why I’m in a fucking Masters program about it.

LOUDER FOR MY FAMILY IN THE BACK

nassadii:

kaasknot:

bara-zoku:

tolkienteacher:

juan-the-gecko:

When women want to fuck monsters:

When men want to fuck monsters:

Conclusion: men are fucking cowards.

I laughed out loud in the middle of a staff meeting.

I have yet to see a “not all men” and I’m surprised. 

via @trillgutterbug