If you don’t ride the bus, you will never see people crying on the bus, and you will never wonder why. If you don’t ride the bus, you will never see mothers holding their toddlers from falling off the seats on the bus. If you don’t ride the bus, you will never see who rides the bus, and you will never see them at the edges of days, putting those private moments in public, the exhaustion, the exhaustion.
I felt myself breathe today. Really breathe. It was 91 degrees and my dress was wrinkled and stuck to me, but I gulped in a deep breath of humid air and I felt it. I felt it go in and it didn’t come back out. Do you know these breaths I mean?
I have stumbled over my words for the last few weeks….
Unrequited love is kinda redundant nobody will ever love you the way that you want your heart is a series of wells that will never be filled not with hours of work or dwayne johnson gifs or pictures of cats have you tried to pat a stray cat nowadays? lately? lately? they are only looking to hiss they are only looking to bite you for reals or claw you to death ‘yes I’m a cat person’ you say to yourself ‘yes I like cats yes I guess’
I wanna watch a movie but I also wanna finish this book but I also wanna go to bed but I also wanna eat something but I also wanna finish that tv series but I also wanna drink something but I also wanna do something with my life
Remember when that old lady ghost from Are You Afraid of the Dark? haunted that girl for not visiting? when I was younger she used to haunt me too I can’t visit my grandmother without getting carsick on the way I can’t lay on a couch without a week passing by
As a university tutor in my hometown, a city which is roughly 40% black and 37% white, I still had students asking me, “Do they just never learn how to talk right?” I pull up a chair when this happens, “Listen up, gang.” So what do I tell them? Well, the goal is to convey that, scientifically speaking, non-standard varieties of English such as the English spoken by Rachel Jeantel and the ‘proper English’ they’ve been taught are equally communicative. I go over the differences and point out that both have a rule system that must be followed to speak convincingly.
But then, I don’t see why there should need to be that justification. So I end up trying to teach respect. If they have a student that speaks a non-standard variety of English, they need to understand that that student is therefore competent in understanding at least two versions of English: the version they speak at home and other safe environments, and the one forced upon them when listening to you. Respect that.
The alarmingly pervasive idea that standard English equates to ‘good grammar’ and non-standard English equates to ‘bad grammar’ is false and exclusionary. When it’s used in conjunction with intelligence and credibility of a young black woman, it’s reminiscent of the faulty scientific racism of “The Bell Curve.” But language shaming is currently acceptable behavior in the status quo. It is one of the last bastions of unabashed racism and classism.
What happens when the walls drop The lies and the disguises and the small talk That cover up the pain and the shame and the bald spots We’re runaway trains what happens when it all stops Artists drop gems that ring false rocks We shouldve got those calls blocked like Alstott We’re feedin our mind from the tree in Eden Lately ive been reading what paul taught - freedom That’s what we all want
“Forgive. Forget. Fake it. Chin up. Wear lipstick, make lists, make sure your voicemail isn’t full. Mix protein shakes, send timely thank you notes, sip drinks more slowly, stare at adults’ eyebrows, smile without dimples, develop perfect posture. Be gracious, be kind, eliminate self-pity. Look in the mirror and shift your internal monologue from ‘How do I look?’ to ‘This is my face,’ from ‘What the hell am I doing?’ to ‘This is my life.’ Capitalize your emails, read the news, walk briskly, stay focused, and never, ever let on that you are somewhat lost and sometimes lonely and so completely confused (and would someone please just let me know what it is I’m supposed to do next, where exactly I’m supposed to go–). Just keep going. Go, and do not stop.”—Jennifer Schaffer, A Checklist For The Age 19 (via thatkindofwoman)
“You tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.”—Warsan Shire, “For Women Who Are Difficult to Love,” (via christinefriar)
If you’ll both follow me up to the porch here, you’ll see the swing I was telling you about. That was added when the place was renovated in 1980. And notice the gorgeous stained glass double doors. As a matter of fact, that is oak! Good eye. My husband’s the same way; he’s got a real knack. Now into the foyer—watch your step, that’s it.
As you can see, lots of light. That’s mainly the work of the two bay windows in the living room over there—all original trim, too, on those. You should see it in the morning; they just flood the place with sunlight.
Before we move into the living room, you’ll notice that the floor is lava. It’s really not an issue; none of the previous owners have had any trouble with it. You’ll just have to follow me. Generally, to get from the foyer to the living room, you’re going to want to hop onto the antique mail desk over there. I’m going to use the console table, but you should stick to the mail desk until you get the hang of it. That’s
I walked to a Staples a few blocks away from work today to get paper and came back out the same door I entered, but somehow ended up at the White House. I don’t remember taking any turns, let alone wrong turns. But, I was at the White House, standing holding card stock paper in a five cent plastic…
The jeweler is a family jeweler, he lives in Philly. He made her a ring for her eighteenth birthday from her father’s cufflinks and an old ring. You’re going to make her one from a family ring. Something new and better. I’m listening, sort of.
I look for signs everywhere Buy lucky strikes! Buy lucky strikes! in the silence among couches in a well lit room with you and the porous walls that let air come and go until there is no air at all and the floor creaks under the weight of a shoe being tied in silence There are no signs…
I meant to go to Target, but I kept walking and I got an 8oz. coffee. The barista held up the 8oz cup next to the 12oz cup and raised his eyebrows like, “Really?” And I nodded yes. I meant to go to Target then, but I saw that the two front window chairs that are never available on the weeknds…
This is what I used to do all the time. I used to marvel at daily events. I miss this.
There is a girl I follow on tumblr who has done a great job of making a brand of and name for herself, but slowly, over time, I’ve come to find her insufferable. Her posts often feature her mouth agape in the same tiny shape talking about nonsense things and I am the first to grant her that she…
we live in a world where the practice of art, of making the endlessly boring endlessly fascinating, becomes exploited into a commercial profession - illustrator, designer, architect. each one a carbon copy of the other, manufactured in the same universally recognised four-year degrees. we live in…