The woman in white also called “Cascada La Novia “ located in Peru
If you bring up vegans eating food picked by underpaid immigrants but stay silent about underpaid workers working for animals agriculture then maybe you don’t actually care about underpaid immigrants workers at all idk just a thought
people were writing “hot or not” lists on the bathroom stalls when i was in 8th grade and the dean of students came on the morning announcements and said something i will never forget “we’ve got some bad apples at this school… and it’s applesauce season"
The faint rings of Uranus, shot in 1986, are made of countless fragments of water ice containing radiation-altered organic material.
Credit: NASA/JPL/Michael Benson, Kinetikon Pictures
i remember being taught by my butch lesbian neighbor how to figure out if a button-down shirt fits properly, and her femme wife teaching me how to tie a tie. it was in my dining room that we used as a makeshift nursery for my sister. the walls were blood red, and the floors and ceiling were dark. the whole world felt like it was suffocating you in that room, much like life felt for me at the time. i was fifteen years old, and it had been seven months since my mother had last spoken to me. my father was drinking. i was failing my classes partially because my brain couldnt stop projecting old home movies onto the backs of my eyelids and i couldnt stay present and partially to see if anyone would notice. no one did. no one but my neighbors.
they invited us over for dinner. the butch always greeted us while the femme finished dinner and we took off our shoes and one would take our coats and the butch would clap her hand on my shoulder, and the femme would touch my elbow gently while she took out my chair. they fed us, we played board games, they talked openly about being gay. they held hands across the dining table, and twirled their wedding rings, neither seeming to notice they were doing it. watching them methodically work, hosting this beautiful dinner, moving together like two pieces of an intricate puzzle, like weaving together yarn and hemp, like gears, like one soul split evenly between two bodies–
i had never seen love like that. i had never met women like them. women who wore athletic sandals in november. women who wore sundresses with denim and cowboy boots and called her wife “sonnyboy,” whose wife was always quite put together, button-down buttoned to the top, tie straight (with the constant help of her wife), hair short & cropped to the scalp all the way round. women who both did the dishes.
i didn’t know love like that was an option. i had only been shown angry, volatile love. i didn’t know i could be a woman like that. or rather, i didn’t know i could be loved as that kind of a woman. i had been taught that women like that are lonely. they’re ugly. but i watched her. her crisp leather jacket, her darkwash, baggy jeans on summer days that she folded once over her brown boots with the yellow shoelaces. she wasn’t ugly. i watched her, and i bought brown boots.
Shy Husband
there was NO reason for me to make this
psych majors should be required to kick it with a mentally ill person for at least 80 hours just to be reminded that we are human and not experiments
As both a psych major and a mentally ill person I cannot begin to tell you how many people I have met in my classes who make me concerned for the safety and health of mentally ill people everywhere, especially the young children who struggle.
My first psychology class was fucking wild. Put of around 35 of us only three (one being a close friend of mine) of us had any sort of mental illness. Intro Psych is mainly about brain development with only a small section at the end being about mental illness but Oh Fucking Boy did everyone’s weird ass stereotypes and fetishes jump out in the last chapter.
We were talking about schizophrenia and the one other girl with mental illness was a schizophrenic (it wasn’t known until this exact moment). We were talking about symptoms when someone just asked outloud, “Aren’t schizos like super likely to murder people though?”
I thought, okay, one guy still stuck in the fucking 80’s, whatever.
But Then A Bunch Of People Start Agreeing
And soon we were 20minutes into class and everyone had shared a case of a schizophrenic murdering, abusing, etc etc and They Saw Nothing Wrong With Thinking These Stereotypes Were A Standard
The prof finally stopped them and asked if anyone wanted to make one last statement and this poor girl just raises her hands and “I just thought you all should know that I’m schizophrenic and have never thought about murdering someone, nor have I ever hurt anyone apart from myself.”
And… no one apologized. They literally felt no guilt at all for bashing this girl.
The same exact thing happened when we talked about depression, anxiety, and ptsd.
“Ptsd is what soldiers get after war right?”
“Yeah sometimes, but anyone can suffer from it after a traumatic event”
“How would you know, are you the professor now?”
“No, but I have ptsd from a car crash that nearly killed me so…”
Like god damn I really fucking hate neurotypicals trying to satisfy some weird curiosity they have for “crazy” people or whatever it is like please stay like 3000ft away from anyone with a mental illness and never fucking talk to them dear god