How are you moved? What does it take to move you?
We were at everybody’s favourite giant bookstore. My company talked about a choice her favourite writer had to make. The writer was asked if she had to choose between a person she had strong feelings for and someone who moved her, who would she choose?
“You know what frustrates me? It is frustrating when someone tells you to keep a secret and you try really hard to keep a secret from everyone. Then, the next time, you heard the same secret from another person because that same someone told it to another. What happened to telling me to keep it a secret? Why did I even make the effort?”
- My Dad.
My world revolves around this at the moment.
danceswithfaeriesunderthemoon:
dilq:
Middle-Eastern women need to have more confidence, and then the rest of the world would know what’s hiding underneath their fucking oppressive hijab: gorgeous skin containing a woman dying to get away from her spiteful culture
This is going to come as a shock to you, so I hope you’re sitting down.
Are you sitting down?
There are women who like wearing hijab, okay? There are women who enjoy wearing it. There are women who choose to put it on, despite what people like you have to say about it.
Just as a woman can choose to show her skin, she can choose to cover it. She can choose to hide her gorgeous skin just as another woman can choose to show it.
And how do you know, tell me, how do you know that these women are ‘dying to get away from their spiteful culture’? How do you know anything about their confidence? You’re trying to speak for and police the bodies of millions of women, and it’s ridiculous. Please sit down somewhere.
^Flawless.
Fuck you, OP.
^ commentary.
I say that I love rain,
and I hardly carry an umbrella,
but sometimes there is
a need to love something else more,
a job, a career, a wedding of a faithful bride.
I say that I love the sun,
and I stand often beneath the rays,
but sometimes there is
a need to love something else more,
the heat but not the harm, a health, a life.
I say that I love the wind,
and I smile often as it bellows,
but sometimes there is
a need to love something else more,
the warmth of a flame, a memento, a hardwork of a faithful wife.
I’ve not said I love you.
(Quelle: leilockheart)
“I advise you to stop sharing your dreams with people who try to hold you back, even if they’re your parents. Because, if you’re the kind of person who senses there’s something out there for you beyond whatever it is you’re expected to do - if you want to be EXTRA-ordinary - you will not get there by hanging around a bunch of people who tell you you’re not extraordinary. Instead, you will probably become as ordinary as they expect you to be.”
(Quelle: nevercouldgetthehangofthursdays)
There was a person who held everything, trust, secrets, silly questions, feelings, conundrums and more. It was something earned. Because to be given such trust required hard work and reflection of trustworthiness.
But things change and I took it all away.
But things don’t feel right anymore.
How does one take something away which was rightly earned?
I have to younger brothers and studies have shown that families where boys have elder sister(s), makes them less harsh(?).
So I have two younger brothers that I adore. We fight one minute and laugh at the next. We’ll shout, “I’m not talking to you anymore,” but we know each other’s weakest points. We think our parents’ enmity with their siblings is really stupid and we don’t see ourselves like that because being angry with another person takes energy. A fight is a fight and not a life. But my brother are as boys go. We do not have heart to heart sessions. We go out to eat alone and wonder what we’d talk to each other. Stories are expressed at random like in the kitchen or just when I hang out in their room; about an old acquaintance who wants to hang out too much, about a fight they got it, and twitter. My mom says I have to look after them, I have to know them. I do but I don’t see why I should use it against them e.g. how a brother smokes. I think when you want to be trusted in something, you gotta give up something. I’m just an elder sister in name. They call me, kakak, out of an inculcated habit. I don’t demand respect because it should be something earned.
The point of this entire piece is… my mother told me about how the youngest told her not to allow me to travel in a foreign country alone. It’s dangerous, he said. You shouldn’t allow her to go and you always let her go, she’s a girl, he added. It made me smile. My brother is just simply a brother.
I had no plans last evening, so I came home, did some yoga with Jillian Michael, had a bowl of avocado+boiled egg+too much feta and thought I should read a book. I took a book to read and had Born and Raised playing.
Then I thought, it’ll be lovely to just listen and do nothing but just listen and see what thoughts drift into my mind. So I put away my books and listened. Sleep crept and left, as consciousness tried to pus me awake to switch off the lights.
I’ve been having trouble sleeping. John Mayer lulled me into it easy.
I should get off my ass.
I don’t see why one couldn’t do both. At the same time or independent of each other. And who’d want to turn down a dance?
:D indeed, you can do both. Just giving options y’know and then maybe during process end up doing both ;) hahaha
peelings hat gesagt: S1E5 is “5G.” That’s the most upsetting episode for me. Also, you just can’t watch Mad Men out of order. You won’t catch the allusions. The research they do and the thought behind it is crazy. I hope you can try it again, from the beginning.
I did watch from the beginning and as much as I like the depth of the characters, I do not like the bitchyness surrounding it. Then, I decided, it is not for me. I kept cringing from all the backstabbing and making use of people and it stopped being enjoyable.
You xan be anythin
