"Girl Speaks Gibberish With Perfect Accents To Show What Languages Sound Like To Foreigners"
I love this?
this is hands down one of the best things I’ve ever seen
Okay but consider this: mermaids in space
Space mermaids? As in: alien mermaids that live in the vacuum of space and swim between the stars? A setting that uses the analogy of deep space as the open ocean but keeps all the sea monsters? DO WANT!!
space mermaids swarming around an active galactic center to feed off the energy thrown off by it’s jets like deep sea fish at vents
When I was seventeen and preparing to leave for university, my mother’s only brother saw fit to give me some advice.
“Just don’t be an idiot, kid,” he told me, “and don’t ever forget that boys and girls can never just be friends.”
I laughed and answered, “I’m not too worried. And I don’t really think all guys are like that.”
When I was eighteen and the third annual advent of the common cold was rolling through residence like a pestilent fog, a friend texted me asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I told him that if he could bring me up some vitamin water that would be great, if it wasn’t too much trouble.
That semester I learned that human skin cells replace themselves every three to five weeks. I hoped that in a month, maybe I’d stop feeling the echoes of his touch; maybe my new skin would feel cleaner.
It didn’t. But I stood by what I said. Not all guys are like that.
When I was nineteen and my roommate decided the only way to celebrate the end of midterms was to get wasted at a club, I humoured her.
Four drinks, countless leers and five hands up my skirt later, I informed her I was ready to leave.
“I get why you’re upset,” she told me on the walk home, “but you have to tolerate that sort of thing if you want to have any fun. And really, not all guys are like that.”
(Age nineteen also saw me propositioned for casual sex by no fewer than three different male friends, and while I still believe that guys and girls can indeed be just friends, I was beginning to see my uncle’s point.)
When I was twenty and a stranger that started chatting to me in my usual cafe asked if he could walk with me (since we were going the same way and all), I accepted.
Before we’d even made it three blocks he was pulling me into an alleyway and trying to put his hands up my shirt. “You were staring,” he laughed when I asked what the fuck he was doing (I wasn’t), “I’m just taking pity.”
But not all guys are like that.
I am twenty one and a few days ago a friend and I were walking down the street. A car drove by with the windows down, and a young man stuck his head out and whistled as they passed. I ignored it, carrying on with the conversation.
My friend did not. “Did you know those people?” He asked.
“Not at all,” I answered.
Later when we sat down to eat he got this thoughtful look on his face. When I asked what was wrong he said, “You know not all guys do that kind of thing, right? We’re not all like that.”
As if he were imparting some great profound truth I’d never realized before. My entire life has been turned around, because now I’ve been enlightened: not all guys are like that.
No. Not all guys are. But enough are. Enough that I am uncomfortable when a man sits next to me on the bus. Enough that I will cross to the other side of the street if I see a pack of guys coming my way. Enough that even fleeting eye contact with a male stranger makes my insides crawl with unease. Enough that I cannot feel safe alone in a room with some of my male friends, even ones I’ve known for years. Enough that when I go out past dark for chips or milk or toilet paper, I carry a knife, I wear a coat that obscures my figure, I mimic a man’s gait. Enough that three years later I keep the story of that day to myself, when the only thing that saved me from being raped was a right hook to the jaw and a threat to scream in a crowded dorm, because I know what the response will be.
I live my life with the everburning anxiety that someone is going to put their hands on me regardless of my feelings on the matter, and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I live with the knowledge that statistically one in three women have experienced a sexual assault, but even a number like that can’t be trusted when we are harassed into silence. I live with the learned instinct, the ingrained compulsion to keep my mouth shut to jeers and catcalls, to swallow my anger at lewd suggestions and crude gestures, to put up my walls against insults and threats. I live in an environment that necessitates armouring myself against it just to get through a day peacefully, and I now view that as normal. I have adapted to extreme circumstances and am told to treat it as baseline. I carry this fear close to my heart, rooted into my bones, and I do so to keep myself unharmed.
So you can tell me that not all guys are like that, and you’d even be right, but that isn’t the issue anymore. My problem is not that I’m unaware of the fact that some guys are perfectly civil, decent, kind—my problem is simply this:
In a world where this cynical overcaution is the only thing that ensures my safety, I’m no longer willing to take the risk.
— r.d. (via elferinge)
Yes. This. All of this.
It’s what I tried to explain in my post about being afraid of cis people, and this is also how I feel about interactions with men too. People who don’t get it keep looking at it from the wrong angle. They look at it from the angle of the privileged group. When they hear a woman talk about harassment, or sexism, or assault they’ve experienced, they go “not all men are like that”, and they think, as long as it’s not ALL of the men that are like that, then it’s okay. As long as there are men who don’t have experiences of assaulting women, harassing us, or being sexist assholes, then there’s not a problem. As long as there are cis people who don’t have experiences of misgendering trans people, then there’s no problem. They don’t look at it from our perspective, which is that each time this happens to us, it scars us. WE have to deal with each incident, and the effects on us. WE have to deal with each time this happens, not knowing what’s going to happen, or in what condition we’ll be in when the incident is over. This adds up. It’s like telling somebody who gets slashed with a knife every so often whenever they go out, “oh not all knife wielders are like that”, and they want us to not be paranoid about knife wielders. When you’ve been hurt over and over again, seemingly randomly, and you don’t know when the next person you meet is going to do it again, you get scared. You get damned scared because you don’t want to get cut again, you don’t want another scar, you don’t want to have to heal again. You don’t want to get hurt. And it doesn’t fucking matter how many people are like that as long as it regularly keeps happening to us, and the culture keeps excusing it and creating an environment where it keeps happening!
Not all men are like that.
Almost all women have had an experience with a man who is like that.
My prince has finally come
I’m laughing too hard ohj my gosdsdgaksjdg
Raidersofthelostart aka Susan Hoerth - 1: The Land of Fairy Tales constructed from a book called Fairy Land dated 1923 2: Grimm’s Fairy Tales Altered Antique book Pop Up style 3: Repurposed Antique Altered Children’s Book Beauty And The Beast and Other Fairy Tales 4: Altered Art Book Autopsy- The Little Chief, 1879 5: Altered Book Autopsy Birds of A Feather Altered Books
in which Totoro boops Mana Ashida on the head.
Japanese child actress Mana was embarrassed that she couldn’t pronounce Guillermo Del Toro’s name so he gave her special permission to call him “Totoro-san” instead.
Her calling him that almost makes me cry
Not everyone you lose is a loss.
- Unknown (via nguyenlisa)
I have a tilted uterus and during my last pregnancy, I lost 6 liters of blood. I almost died. I can’t have this baby. Why don’t they understand that?
Weeping client talking to me today. They tried to goad her companion into a fist fight so they could call the police and have him arrested, therefore she couldn’t have the procedure.
She was crying and screaming for them to leave her alone. They wouldn’t, and her companion got angry.
I told her that I have no idea why they can’t understand it. My guess is, that they don’t care about you or your partner, only the fetus that could kill you.
She was very upset, so I let her and her companion wait in my car. She thanked me and said “I’m glad you are here. He would have hit that guy if you all had not walked with us”.
She walked into the clinic tear free, but still with anti’s trailing behind her shouting. The escort presence gave her space and a buffer from the harassment.
That is why I escort. That is why I do it.