2nd and 3rd years:
It’s okay to change your yes to a no. Yes’s aren’t permanent. They’re something we choose again and again, each and every day. Something we have the right to recall and reconsider as soon as saying yes no longer feels conducive to our wellbeing and happiness. It doesn’t matter whether you said yes to a job, a date, a relationship, sex, a favor to a friend, a social endeavor, or a vow of silence — you don’t ever have to commit to something that forces you to compromise who you are and what feels right; especially if it’s something you agreed to under pressure, intimidation, or force. Changing your yes to a no might make people angry. It might hurt their feelings, cause them to see you as a flake, and result in lost connections. But if saying no means staying true to yourself, honoring your feelings, and making self-care a priority, it’s worth it. You are worth it. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.
Let’s get crazy,
Talk about our big plans
Places that you’re going
Places that I haven’t been
Maybe when I’m done with thinking,
Maybe you can think me whole.
Maybe when I’m done with endings
This can begin, this can begin
This can begin.
she waits all day
she stands a stranger in her skin
she moves the science with her hands
she lines her walls
with every paper she can see
these words consume her
but they never set her free
and then she looked at me to scream
“my castles are falling”
but i can’t look into the street
without everything changing
i want to read good news
i want to be innocent again
i want to read good news
but nothing good is happening
in the car, the radio leaves me searching for your star
a constellation of frustration driving hard
singing my thoughts back to me, and watching heartache on TV
According to their survey, men hate when women wear beanies, floppy hats, hair bows, open-side shirts, oversize sweaters, shoulder pads, peplums, bandeau bikinis (“they just make your shoulders look like a linebacker”), bright lipstick, heavy eye makeup, fake nails, bangles, pointy-toed shoes, wedge sneakers, ultra-high heels, fold-over ankle boots (“it looks like the shoes have foreskins”), high-waisted jeans, high-waisted shorts, high-waisted skirts (“it lacks a certain degree of subtlety”), pantsuits (“you’re a woman, not a man”), drop-crotch pants (“really, any loose fitting pants,) and mullet dresses (“I just don’t get it — where’s the fucking party??? You are covering the back!”). The question is how to wear all of these things at once.
Hahaaa. Women dress for themselves (which in turn is more like dressing for other women than men) and I love all this stuff!
Partially because my energy is maxed out just by reblogging random pictures i like but also because i feel as though i don’t do much worth writing about. Technically can’t write about most of the things i do since its all with students or clients and…thats illegal. i am getting good experience and hopefully all of this work will pay off when i am doing something i enjoy and helping people at the same time.
BUT that seems far away. Everyone is having babies or getting married or experiencing the freedom of finding themselves by doing whatever they feel called to do. i know this is my calling but i just hate that it takes lots of school and money to get there. i want to be done “getting there” and i just want to be.
i am jealous of people who get to be near the people that they love. i love my cohort here and with how often we are together we are like a family. But i miss my other family. i miss my kittens and my actual family and my christmas girls and my church friends and my boyfriend. i saw people fighting on campus and literally thought well at least they are fighting in person. Tyler and i are so good and it’s not fair that we can’t be together. (Fair only comes to town once a year.-my dad) &&& i know that, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying.
My teacher said i have a comma deficit problem but i don’t care and i will write as many run on sentences as i want because this is a blog and little i’s are more aesthetically pleasing to me so i>I.
also i am turning into a crazy girl portrayed in films as the insane friend.
when the boys pull your hair and push you to the ground
I promise not to tell you that it’s because they like you.
when the teachers call home to tell me that
you pushed them to the ground in return
I’ll take you out of school early and buy
you your favorite ice cream.
when you get older and the boys
try to touch you when you don’t want to be touched
I’ll look at you like the sun when you come home
with anger in your fists.
they all tell you not to fight fire with fire
but that is only because they are afraid of your flames.
when the boys yell after you like hyenas
you yell back, baby.
I will not teach you to be afraid of your anger
so that you look for it in others.
I will not make you be the better person
because you already are.
you wanna fight ‘em? fight ‘em.
don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love
you have for yourself
and the lengths you go to preserve it.
when the boys try to tell you to soften up
I hope you make them bleed with your edges.
I hope you remember that you are not theirs
that their disappointment in you is not yours.
when the boys come to your door with pretty words and
I hope you show them the anger in yours.
I hope you show them just how strong your mommy
thinks you are.
I hope you show them the animal they can’t always
see in their own reflection.
when the boys come with the intention of hurting you
my advice will always stay the same, my darling:
give ‘em hell.