We are indeed jelly.
I’m getting this printed on my birthday cake for Saturday. You jelly?
It’s been getting a little Whedon heavy over here, so I decided to give you a TARDIS!
In other news: my writing class starts on Monday! Which means our regularly scheduled text posts should be returning soon. Are you excited? Because I’m excited.
Another ‘Dollhouse’ essay from Slayage journal worth gushing over. (seriously, my inner thespian and my inner english student have never been so giddy)
1. Get naked and take a good long look at your body. Trace your stretch marks, feel your hip bones poking out, place your hand over your tummy and take a fistful of yourself in. Appreciate your scars and pimples, your uneven,large,or nonexistent breasts. Take pride in your un/shaven, un/cut, fantastically odd private bits. Hold up a mirror to yourself and study your body. Love it.
2. Be Ugly, reclaim words that are used to put you down and shut you up and scream right back at these fascist beauty standard reinforcing scumbags. Give them the finger and tell them to kiss your fat/skinny/somewhere in between ass ‘cause you ain’t got time to waste with their body hating bullshit. and remember, you don’t owe prettiness to anyone. Validate yourself by accepting yourself.
3. Wear clothes that don’t fit, that are too big or too small and show all your “problem areas” that cosmo insists you hide and walk down the street like the fucking fabulous queen you are. Sashay the hate away.
4. Do what YOU want with YOUR body. Shave or don’t, wear makeup or don’t, whatever choice you make is yours to make, and anyone who shames you for your decision can keep it moving. This also means respecting the choices of others, even if they differ from your own.
5. Surround yourself with loving and supportive people. Rid of the toxic bullshit in your life if possible, and immerse yourself in a community that embraces body positivity and diversity.
"(via sarahtheimpossible)
Feeling very body-positive today. Also, you lovely gentlefolk should check out the snazzy lady I rebloged this from. She’s pretty col.
(via sarahtheimpossible)
So fitting right now ^_^
I miss you so much, baby. <3
This song has been in my head aaalll dayyy
Source: thefangirlslayer
This essay from Slayage journal’s special issue on ‘Dollhouse’ BLEW MY MIND. (And inspired me to up the anty in my still-in-progress-novel. Definitely worth a look.
Hey new followers, it’s great to see you! I’m not sure where you guys are coming from or how you found this blog but I am super jazzed to have you. Feel free to message me questions, comments, or just to chat about whatever.
A quick word: this blog is probably going to get a little more casual personal and feature a broader base of writing raging from the little ficlets i’ve been posting, to glorified journal entries, to me discussing tv shows and books i’m obsessed with at the moment.
Sick around, every one! <3
GPOY: nothing says happy mother’s day like cake! I made this bad boy from scratch. Not gonna lie, feeling awfully proud of myself right now.
There was this girl named Jane that I met in High School and fell in love with even though we never officially dated. It wasn’t love at first sight or even a bout of intense attraction that matured into something rich and inebriating like a good red wine but the first time I saw her, my knees went weak at the sight of her thin red lips and guarded glassy eyes. “My uncle calls them my baby blues” she told me later. I’m a sucker for a girl with a secret. Extra brownie points for multiple or erratic personas; Jane racked up enough brownie points to break the bank.
Every Friday night my parents would swing by her trailer where I would help load her suitcases into the trunk and steal a tight hug, taking in the smell of her favorite jacket: lavender and baby powder. We would climb into the car and hold hands while we passed my iPod back and fourth to give the illusion of egalitarianism and fairness. I always tried to think of what would make her smile or laugh when it was my turn to pick a song. She knew it, too. It sometimes made her feel bad, she said once, because she could never read me like that. “Just keep the country music out of our playlists and we’ll be just fine,” I said.
Although Jane’s issues and eccentricities were seemingly endless, the biggest thing was her self-image. One time we were laying in my bed after Sunday brunch and she pulled the covers over her head. “Don’t look at me,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a monster.”
I wrapped my arm around her soft stomach and pulled myself flush against her back, “Don’t be silly, you’re beautiful.”
“No, I’m not. I’m hideous.”
I remember thinking how strange the word sounded, misplaced in the mouth the way all words get once you say them forty times fast or think about them too much. I looked down at the Jane-shaped lump in my bed and saw her red wavy hair turning luminous on the car rides back to her home and the way her glasses made her baby blues even brighter and the way her head hung to one side when she smiled.
She had this thing about carrying enormous bags with her everywhere. She filled them to the brim with everything she could imagine needing for the day. For her birthday, I sewed her a white and green hobo bag for my big project in Home Ecc. She carried it around for the rest of the school year. She only wore dresses on specific occasions, took forty-five minutes to put on her makeup in the morning, and followed fashion trends religiously, especially shoes.
We went school shopping for me the summer I left for college and ended up spending two hours at DSW and Famous Footwear, mostly because she just couldn’t help herself. She apologized to me on and off as she worked her way through Sperries and Stilettos, deep into leather boots and ballet flats, sling-backs, sketchers, and silver glitter TOMS.
Neither of us knew how to drive so when I started college in the city the make and texture of our relationship turned upside-down. When we reached the point where people become couples, where they start doing more things together and having playful, quiet moments when they think no one is looking we spent our time talking about being together, talking about kissing, holding hands, watching movies, having dinners an falling into my tiny twin bed. But all it was, was talk.
