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Words, words, words!

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wrote in her diary (or LJ, or Myspace blog, or whatever) at least once a day, sometimes two or three times a day. Then life happened, and she stopped. Years later, she decided she wanted to start writing again, and all her friends (well, ok, not all, just two) recommended she get a page on Tumblr, because it's just so cool.

So she did. And here it is.
Oct 9 '13

Do we really just not care?

So, I know I’ve been out of touch for awhile, but I haven’t heard anything about any protests of the government shutdown, any letter-writing campaigns, and sort of organized efforts to make sure the government knows that we’re not okay with this.  We practically shut down the Internet for SOPA and PIPA, there were demonstrations in the capitol over gay marriage…but no one can be bothered to do anything about the government shutting down, people not getting paid, the threat to government programs like welfare and Social Security and the possible economic collapse that could result?  What, it doesn’t directly affect most of us yet, so we’re not going to do anything about it?

Oh, and btw, the debt ceiling problem hasn’t magically gone away while we’ve all been distracted by the shutdown.  We’re going to have to deal with that, too, and soon.

Jun 2 '13

the-unsigned:

calmingmanatee:

steelplatedhearts:

I made a series of Calming Bunnies (based off of the Calming Manatee meme) for my friend Gab, who isn’t a huge fan of manatees!

We can always use more bunnies, I think.

I need these bunnies

(Source: jdanielatllas)

Jun 2 '13

bretlowski:

openlayla64:

littleteashi:

You should have heard by now from the news and at twitter about what happened in my country… 


Just terrible.

The wonderful people we allow into the alliance of NATO.

(Source: fonbaligi)

Jun 2 '13
brodingershat:

brodingershat:

Yes, your brain cells will eventually die.
That sentence doesn’t need a “if you do blank” for a qualifier, guy.
Your brain cells will eventually die.
Period.
The end.
That’s all, folks.
Your brain cells will die from prolonged lack of sleep. Your brain cells will die from inhaling the fumes from household cleaners. Your brain cells will die from drinking too much high-carbonation soda. Shit, they think your brain cells might die from the chemicals released in the air after a lawn is mowed. That’s right: you’ve fallen prey to the insidiously deadly neurotoxic scent of freshly-cut grass.
I respect your opinions here, and honestly, this will be the last of these I answer, because this is not that kind of blog and we will never convince one another. That’s not how it works. I’m not going to bend, and I doubt you will.
But I think it needs to be clarified exactly what constitutes a drug.
Plot Twist: Almost anything that alters your state enough, honestly. That’s why half of the classifications are constantly contested.
Your brain produces its own drugs. The reason drugs work at all is because your brain is already a complex interplay of naturally occurring drugs. Your brain is its own meth lab. Congrats.
To say the “happiness that the drug gives you is not real” is not only inaccurate, it’s almost offensive. Remind me what happiness is. Are you referring to happiness as elation or contentment? Because they’re not the same. They’re very different chemical processes. Happiness is always drug-induced- a reaction to a positive stimulus.
When you don’t have that reaction, you have a neurological disorder. 
Now tell me: if someone with depression is lucky enough to find the perfect balance within a prescribed medication, is the happiness they feel unreal? Do you honestly believe that their natural state- in and of itself, a deviation from what’s agreed to constitute ideal neurological health which causes them significant unhappiness- is preferable to their medicated state?
Do you believe they deserve to be depressed?
But that’s different, you say. That’s medication, not drugs.
It’s all drugs.
What you call drugs and someone else calls medication and someone else calls recreation- that’s all the words we’ve slapped on the labels.
I switched off of Adderall because it was exacerbating my anxiety, but now I’m on Concerta for my ADHD. It helps. A lot. And you know what? You’re totally right. It’s a drug. It might have long-term health effects on me. That’s the price I’ll pay for productivity and clarity.
You tell me I can’t escape my problems by doing drugs.
I challenge you to say that to a schizophrenic person.
I fucking dare you.
Not everything can be solved with therapy and list-making. Not everything can be solved with careful nutrition and the institution of routines. Not all problems have non-chemical solutions, and I ask you to please, please make an attempt to see beyond what you’ve been spoon-fed before you apply widespread judgments. 
Assumptions like these are the reason I hate telling people I have ADHD. Why we all hate telling people about our misconnected wires and blown fuses.
Because the vast majority of people either look at us like we’re broken or like we’re making excuses, with no middle ground.
You tell someone you have a certain kind of disorder and suddenly you’re that one shopping cart lady who mutters to herself about aliens and screams at the sun. Doesn’t matter what you look like, how well you speak, how well you dress.
And that’s just those of us who are neurologically atypical.
You say you believe our handful of legalized intoxicants should be illegal. 
I politely remind you that this was tried. Please recall the Prohibition.
Like I said: it doesn’t matter if you don’t make drugs accessible. If we’re looking, we’ll find them.
And honestly, life isn’t about balancing yourself like a chequebook. It’s not about being a perfect piece of clockwork and always keeping time. If you’d like to carefully regulate every aspect of your intake, never eat hydrogenated fats or processed sugars, always drink your eight glasses of water a day and maintain a minimum of thirty minutes of moderate to high-intensity exercise a day, be my guest.
Do not expect this of the rest of us.
Because hey, you know what? The happiness I feel when I’m sipping a glass of good Merlot and engaging in a lively discussion that interests me is a hell of a lot more genuine than the happiness I feel when I’m obsessing over the fibre content of my food.
And yes, I could do that without the wine. But I won’t. Because I like wine. More for its flavour than effect. 
I will continue to eat a diet of shitty, delicious high-cholesterol food interwoven with relatively healthy choices. I will go entire days without engaging in significant exercise but be sure to maintain a healthy level of activity the rest of the time. I will continue to take my medication. 
I will engage in a lifestyle of moderation between care and enjoyable self-destruction.
This has nothing to do with my intelligence, age, or level of attractiveness.
This is because I am a person who doesn’t take stock in the self-righteous contentment of people who maintain fastidious lifestyles for the express purpose of looking down on the rest of the world as inferior. 
The decisions I’ve made have shaped me. I am who I am because of the people I’ve been and the things that I’ve done. Call them mistakes, but they are the reference points of an adult perspective that’s allowed me to look at my parents and see people who always meant well but didn’t always know what was best. The mistakes that I’ve made are the things that have allowed me to accept that I am most certainly not a saint and to love myself better for never aspiring to be one. My faults define me just as much as my virtues. That suits me just fine.
I will eat, drink, and be infinitely merrier than you, and there is not a fucking thing you can do about it.
I can only hope your lifestyle one day brings you the same level of enjoyment as mine does me.
(Rebloggable by request.)

Relevant to some recent discussions I’ve had.

brodingershat:

brodingershat:

Yes, your brain cells will eventually die.

That sentence doesn’t need a “if you do blank” for a qualifier, guy.

Your brain cells will eventually die.

Period.

The end.

That’s all, folks.

Your brain cells will die from prolonged lack of sleep. Your brain cells will die from inhaling the fumes from household cleaners. Your brain cells will die from drinking too much high-carbonation soda. Shit, they think your brain cells might die from the chemicals released in the air after a lawn is mowed. That’s right: you’ve fallen prey to the insidiously deadly neurotoxic scent of freshly-cut grass.

I respect your opinions here, and honestly, this will be the last of these I answer, because this is not that kind of blog and we will never convince one another. That’s not how it works. I’m not going to bend, and I doubt you will.

But I think it needs to be clarified exactly what constitutes a drug.

Plot Twist: Almost anything that alters your state enough, honestly. That’s why half of the classifications are constantly contested.

Your brain produces its own drugs. The reason drugs work at all is because your brain is already a complex interplay of naturally occurring drugs. Your brain is its own meth lab. Congrats.

To say the “happiness that the drug gives you is not real” is not only inaccurate, it’s almost offensive. Remind me what happiness is. Are you referring to happiness as elation or contentment? Because they’re not the same. They’re very different chemical processes. Happiness is always drug-induced- a reaction to a positive stimulus.

When you don’t have that reaction, you have a neurological disorder. 

Now tell me: if someone with depression is lucky enough to find the perfect balance within a prescribed medication, is the happiness they feel unreal? Do you honestly believe that their natural state- in and of itself, a deviation from what’s agreed to constitute ideal neurological health which causes them significant unhappiness- is preferable to their medicated state?

Do you believe they deserve to be depressed?

But that’s different, you say. That’s medication, not drugs.

It’s all drugs.

What you call drugs and someone else calls medication and someone else calls recreation- that’s all the words we’ve slapped on the labels.

I switched off of Adderall because it was exacerbating my anxiety, but now I’m on Concerta for my ADHD. It helps. A lot. And you know what? You’re totally right. It’s a drug. It might have long-term health effects on me. That’s the price I’ll pay for productivity and clarity.

You tell me I can’t escape my problems by doing drugs.

I challenge you to say that to a schizophrenic person.

I fucking dare you.

Not everything can be solved with therapy and list-making. Not everything can be solved with careful nutrition and the institution of routines. Not all problems have non-chemical solutions, and I ask you to please, please make an attempt to see beyond what you’ve been spoon-fed before you apply widespread judgments. 

Assumptions like these are the reason I hate telling people I have ADHD. Why we all hate telling people about our misconnected wires and blown fuses.

Because the vast majority of people either look at us like we’re broken or like we’re making excuses, with no middle ground.

You tell someone you have a certain kind of disorder and suddenly you’re that one shopping cart lady who mutters to herself about aliens and screams at the sun. Doesn’t matter what you look like, how well you speak, how well you dress.

And that’s just those of us who are neurologically atypical.

You say you believe our handful of legalized intoxicants should be illegal. 

I politely remind you that this was tried. Please recall the Prohibition.

Like I said: it doesn’t matter if you don’t make drugs accessible. If we’re looking, we’ll find them.

And honestly, life isn’t about balancing yourself like a chequebook. It’s not about being a perfect piece of clockwork and always keeping time. If you’d like to carefully regulate every aspect of your intake, never eat hydrogenated fats or processed sugars, always drink your eight glasses of water a day and maintain a minimum of thirty minutes of moderate to high-intensity exercise a day, be my guest.

Do not expect this of the rest of us.

Because hey, you know what? The happiness I feel when I’m sipping a glass of good Merlot and engaging in a lively discussion that interests me is a hell of a lot more genuine than the happiness I feel when I’m obsessing over the fibre content of my food.

And yes, I could do that without the wine. But I won’t. Because I like wine. More for its flavour than effect. 

I will continue to eat a diet of shitty, delicious high-cholesterol food interwoven with relatively healthy choices. I will go entire days without engaging in significant exercise but be sure to maintain a healthy level of activity the rest of the time. I will continue to take my medication. 

I will engage in a lifestyle of moderation between care and enjoyable self-destruction.

This has nothing to do with my intelligence, age, or level of attractiveness.

This is because I am a person who doesn’t take stock in the self-righteous contentment of people who maintain fastidious lifestyles for the express purpose of looking down on the rest of the world as inferior. 

The decisions I’ve made have shaped me. I am who I am because of the people I’ve been and the things that I’ve done. Call them mistakes, but they are the reference points of an adult perspective that’s allowed me to look at my parents and see people who always meant well but didn’t always know what was best. The mistakes that I’ve made are the things that have allowed me to accept that I am most certainly not a saint and to love myself better for never aspiring to be one. My faults define me just as much as my virtues. That suits me just fine.

I will eat, drink, and be infinitely merrier than you, and there is not a fucking thing you can do about it.

I can only hope your lifestyle one day brings you the same level of enjoyment as mine does me.

(Rebloggable by request.)

Relevant to some recent discussions I’ve had.

May 27 '13
chisagi:


Argentina JUST PASSED a groundbreaking gender identity bill!!!
From now on, people will be able to change the name and gender on their ID without needing psychiatric permission or any body modifications. Furthermore, anyone who does want hormones or surgery will be able to access them for free through the public and private health system.
It was passed unanimously today by the Senate
UNANIMOUSLY

Argentina is just getting more awesome by the year. Countries that aren’t Argentina need to take note.

chisagi:

Argentina JUST PASSED a groundbreaking gender identity bill!!!

From now on, people will be able to change the name and gender on their ID without needing psychiatric permission or any body modifications. Furthermore, anyone who does want hormones or surgery will be able to access them for free through the public and private health system.

It was passed unanimously today by the Senate

UNANIMOUSLY

Argentina is just getting more awesome by the year. Countries that aren’t Argentina need to take note.

(Source: genderqueer)

May 25 '13
bretlowski:

musicnotesandhoofbeats:

trumpetnista:

rarely-pure-never-simple:

thecornercoffeeshoppe:

hickshannary:

small-and-misunderstood:

Saw this somewhere else and felt the need to post it cause no one else ever really tells you this stuff

My mom never really noticed. She noticed when she was breast feeding my little brother and blood started coming out instead of milk. 

My mom said she felt and saw a little lump in the shower. She was lucky enough she found it at stage 2

My mom had a mammogram. The radiologist thought the spots were just regular calcium deposits. 
Turns out it was triple negative breast cancer that had spread to her lymph nods. Mastectomy, radiation and chemo saved her life.
This could SAVE a life.

Signal BOOST and pass it on. I had a breast cancer scare before (luckily it was just scar tissue…) and information like this kept me calm and collected at the doc’s.

my mom felt a HUGE lump. her doctor told her to come back in 6 months to check up on it. so she called my aunt, who is a nurse, for her opinion… she was on the operating table the falling tuesday. if she had listened to her doctor, she wouldn’t be here today.
i was feeling severe pain in one. my doctor was extra careful and had me get an ultrasound. they found a large mass, but thankfully it was only a cyst. had it biopsied and later surgically removed… i get checked regularly, though, because this kind of cyst is more common in women at higher risk for breast cancer.

Signal boost.

bretlowski:

musicnotesandhoofbeats:

trumpetnista:

rarely-pure-never-simple:

thecornercoffeeshoppe:

hickshannary:

small-and-misunderstood:

Saw this somewhere else and felt the need to post it cause no one else ever really tells you this stuff

My mom never really noticed. She noticed when she was breast feeding my little brother and blood started coming out instead of milk. 

My mom said she felt and saw a little lump in the shower. She was lucky enough she found it at stage 2

My mom had a mammogram. The radiologist thought the spots were just regular calcium deposits. 

Turns out it was triple negative breast cancer that had spread to her lymph nods. Mastectomy, radiation and chemo saved her life.

This could SAVE a life.

Signal BOOST and pass it on. I had a breast cancer scare before (luckily it was just scar tissue…) and information like this kept me calm and collected at the doc’s.

my mom felt a HUGE lump. her doctor told her to come back in 6 months to check up on it. so she called my aunt, who is a nurse, for her opinion… she was on the operating table the falling tuesday. if she had listened to her doctor, she wouldn’t be here today.

i was feeling severe pain in one. my doctor was extra careful and had me get an ultrasound. they found a large mass, but thankfully it was only a cyst. had it biopsied and later surgically removed… i get checked regularly, though, because this kind of cyst is more common in women at higher risk for breast cancer.

Signal boost.

Dec 2 '12

I can’t decide if I want to punch something, or cry into a pint of chocolate ice cream.

What I’m probably going to end up doing is reading fanfiction and steadily ignoring that there’s any sort of problem at all.

Oct 21 '12

I was like “wtf?” at first, but then I got to the end and it made sense.  Watch the whole thing, seriously.

Oct 6 '12

butts-with-bro-shades:

motherfuckingspookbro:

m-spooked:

thecloudybrainedkasumi:

sweetupndown9:

I know I’ve told this story before, but I want you all to know. I mean really really know.

In February of 2010, my younger sister (who was 14 at the time.) was in a really bad accident. She fractured her skull, broke her eye socket, and her brain started to swell rapidly. She was put into a medical coma to keep her brain safe from the swelling and after 36 hours she had to have brain surgery because she developed a blood clot. See that tube at the top of her head in the first picture? That’s going into her head.. 

She spent nearly 6 weeks in the hospital. She had to relearn a lot of basic functions like walking, and changing her clothes. But she trooped through and made it back home. For almost 2 weeks while they kept her sedated, we had no idea what we were going to do, how damaged her brain was. It was the most terrifying time in my life watching my little sister struggle to stay alive.

She was uninsured, but with the help of a great children’s hospital, and donations from all over the world (Hey! Thanks tumblr <3) we were able to keep her initial costs very low. But the graces of good people can only go so far. She needed physical therapy, and regular check ups for a long time after her initial release from the hospital. 

My grandparents gained custody of my little sister, and they tried to get her put on my grandfather’s (private) insurance plan. She was denied because of her accident. Because she had a pre-existing condition. My family is lower middle class, and could not even consider affording the out of pocket costs of the therapy my sister needed 

Within weeks of being denied, the Affordable Healthcare Act went into effect. I encouraged my grandmother to re-apply for my sister to be insured. 

The insurance company had to cover my sister. Because of Obamacare, my little sister was able to go to her therapy. She was able to take the medications she needed, and go to the doctor for regular check ups.  She was able to get the care that she needed, and she is now 17 years old, and has been medically cleared to participate in all the things a kid is supposed to do. She drives. She goes to the beach with her friends, she is going to start college soon. 

I am terrified of how different things could be for my beautiful sister if she wasn’t covered under an insurance plan. I want Obamacare. I want other families standing terrified at the foot of a hospital bed to know the person they love is more than just a profit. More than a number. They are taken care of, and they have a President that is willing to really fight to make sure they can keep that coverage. 

The bottom picture was taken in August of this year. 

Guys, read this.

Read this please.

You best all fucking read this.

Yeah Obamacare is definitely going to ruin this country.

(Source: kissing-whiskey)

Oct 6 '12
"

Romney lied:

When he claimed that “pre-existing conditions are covered under my plan.” They’re not.

When he said that President Obama had “cut Medicare by $716 billion to pay for Obamacare.” Obama didn’t.

When he denied proposing a $5 trillion tax cut. He did.

When he said President Obama had “added almost as much to the federal debt as all the prior presidents combined.” Not even close.

When he resurrected “death panels.” That was called “one of the biggest whoppers of the night.”

When he stated that half the green energy companies given stimulus funds had failed. Only if three out of nearly three dozen is half.

Stay tuned. These just scratch the surface.

"