“Write the story that you were always afraid to tell. I swear to you that there is magic in it, and if you show yourself naked for me, I’ll be naked for you. It will be our covenant.”—Dorothy Allison (via mmmajestic)
it’s a little weird to realize that the reason why you want your favorite character to be happy is because you hope that if they are able to achieve that (and salvation and love or whatever) you can be happy too
“A fire broke out backstage in a theatre. The clown came out to warn the public; they thought it was a joke and applauded. He repeated it; the acclaim was even greater. I think that’s just how the world will come to an end: to general applause from wits who believe it’s a joke.”—Søren Kierkegaard, Either/Or, Part I (via i—-i)
My eleventh grade English teacher was a guy named Paul MacAdam. I got a D in the class, and I only got the D because I wrote a paper about Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye over the summer. I was a crap student: I didn’t read; I didn’t participate; I didn’t turn in papers, or when I did, it was embarrassingly obvious I hadn’t read the books. I also skipped class a lot. It was in the morning, and I didn’t think very highly of morning classes.
I actually said that to him once. He took me aside after the bell rang one day and said you’ve been missing a lot of class, and I was like, “Yeah, I don’t think too highly of morning classes.” I was a real peach.
But when I did go to class, I was usually the last person to file into the room. One thing I remember about that class: Mr. MacAdam always held the door open for us until the bell rang. We’d walk in, and he’d greet each of us. He always held the door open until the bell started ringing, and I’d come in last, three seconds before the bell rang, staring at my untied sneakers, stinking of cigarette smoke, and he’d say, “Mr. Green, always a pleasure,” and then he and the class would talk about the book. Say it was Slaughterhouse Five. I hadn’t read it, of course, but they would talk about it, and MacAdam would get to talking about war and the nonlinear nature of time and how Vonnegut had stripped down the language to tell the nakedest of truths.
But the discussion was always so interesting—these big, hot, fun ideas seemed to matter so much. So I read the books. I never read them when I was supposed to read them; I’d read them a week later, after I’d already gotten an F on my reaction paper. But I’d read them. In essence, I was reading great books for fun. MacAdam didn’t know it, of course. He probably still doesn’t know it. But it didn’t matter whether I was worthy of his faith; he kept it. He still held the door open every day for me. He still treated me like I was the smartest kid in the class, still took me seriously on those rare occasions when I’d raise my hand, still listened thoughtfully to me when I’d give him my reading of a passage I could comment upon only because he’d just read it out loud. He believed I was real, that I mattered. I wasn’t yet able to understand that he mattered, but he was okay with that. He just kept holding the door open for me.
John Green, excerpt from his 2008 speech at the Alan Conference (via speciousstuff)
I love you, John Green. And I love teachers like Mr. MacAdam.
“Here’s the thing: It’s ok to think that Merida is a lesbian, not because she shirks traditional gender roles but because she doesn’t have a love interest. Archery prowess and a love of the wilderness does not a lesbian make, otherwise The Hunger Games might have been a little different. She’s not “an honorary boy” because she’s not actively trying to find a husband. On the contrary, it is unlikely that this story could have happened to a guy in this setting, and this conversation about sexuality definitely wouldn’t have happened. Also, stop conflating gender identity with gender presentation! Commentary like these reviews is frustrating, but maybe that’s the point Pixar is trying to make: Merida’s sexuality is a non-issue in the film, and the fact that this topic is even worth mentioning is because women are constantly sexualized.”—Grace via Autostraddle — Brave’s Unconventional Heroine: What Doesn’t Queer You Makes You Stronger (via autostraddle)
“We must return to our Founders’ dream of every state deciding who it can turn away at its border. I believe that when I head home to Connecticut after work, I should have to show my papers — especially after they drag off my driver, Luis, for forgetting his!
It’s easy: 50 states, 50 immigration policies. Every state gets its own bird, right? If Georgia can say ‘yes’ to the brown thrasher, why can’t South Carolina say ‘no’ to the brown Guatemalan? (Justice Antonin) Scalia is right — if Arizona is a sovereign state, it should have its own immigration standards, its own standing army, its own currency, its own Olympic team, its own space program, and its own debts to China!”—
STEPHEN COLBERT, reacting to Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia’s opinion in United States v. Arizona, on The Colbert Report.
Of Arizona’s right to enforce its own racist immigration laws, Scalia wrote “In the first 100 years of the Republic, the United States enacted numerous laws restricting the immigration of certain classes of aliens,” which included convicts and freed slaves.
To which Colbert replied “Yes, the first hundred years of the Republic — the good old days.”
FBI agent, William C. Sullivan, wrote the following recommendation of how to deal with the increasing influence Martin Luther King was gaining as a civil activist, in a letter to the head of the FBI, Hoover:
“It should be clear to all of us that Martin Luther King must, at some propitious point…