[insert literary reference]: Why Do Men Keep Putting Me in the Girlfriend-Zone? -
You know how it is, right, ladies? You know a guy for a while. You hang out with him. You do fun things with him—play video games, watch movies, go hiking, go to concerts. You invite him to your parties. You listen to his problems. You do all this because you think he wants to be your friend.
Libraries Changed My Life: Libraries fed my brain when nothing else could -
I was one of those kids that couldn’t get enough words. I mean, I was downright voracious—I tried to read everything around me at all times (signs, placards, menus, anything), and books were my constant companion as far back as I can remember, even before I could read. Our little town had (and…
… I don’t see you arguing for an accurate portrayal of everything in your fiction all the time. For example, most people seem fine without accurate portrayal of what personal hygiene was really like in 1300 CE in their medieval fantasy media. (Newsflash: realistically, Robb Stark and Jon Snow rarely bathed or brushed their teeth or hair). In real life, people have to go to the bathroom. In movies and books, they don’t show that very much, because it’s boring and gross. Well, guess what: bigotry is also boring and gross. But everyone is just dying to keep that in the script. — » How to be a fan of problematic things Social Justice League
Yep, 2012 was the most expensive election ever! We’ve got all the dirty details right here in 2 new whopping editions of the Hightower Lowdown: Part 1, the straight-up donations to the parties: http://bit.ly/LowdownApril2013and Part 2, the “dark money” edition— SuperPACs and more: http://bit.ly/LowdownMay2013
Want to know who’s bought America’s elections? We’ve got the answers right here in 2 new whopping editions of the Hightower Lowdown: Part 1, the straight-up donations to the parties: http://bit.ly/LowdownApril2013 and Part 2, the “dark money” edition— SuperPACs and more: http://bit.ly/LowdownMay2013
Bring a memory, Make a Toast, share a poem, coast-to-coast. Taylor Mead Day. TONIGHT, Monday May 13, 6-9pm, Bowery Poetry, 308 Bowery, NYC, USA, Earth, O! Taylor Come Home!
„Das geht uns alle an“
Sind Sie der westdeutschen Frauenbewegung der Siebziger und Achtziger eigentlich dankbar?
Auf jeden Fall. Aber ich bin ja in der DDR aufgewachsen. Ein gleichberechtigtes Leben hat für mich deshalb nicht mit der westdeutschen Frauenbewegung begonnen, sondern mit der Erfahrung, dass meine Mutter arbeiten gehen konnte und dennoch Zeit für die Familie hatte. Etwas, das mit dem Fall der Mauer dann nicht mehr selbstverständlich war.
Are you thankful for the West German women’s movements of the 70s and 80s?
Absolutely. But I grew up in East Germany (GDR). Equality therefore for me didn’t start with the West German women’s movements. Instead it was with having the experience, that my mother could go to work, and still have time for her family. That was something that after the Wall came down was no longer a given.
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost. — Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via awelltraveledwoman)
(Source: oliviacirce, via cherylstrayed)
how giddy am I, making this Darwin GIF for my #tfii & #rp13 talks. (very)
Julie P.: My experiences in tech: Death by 1000 paper cuts -
In Once Upon an Internship, I learned early that sometimes being a software engineer means death by 1000 cuts because you don’t have the power to make it stop. Even the tiniest little things add up to something big – sometimes it’s really death by 1000 paper cuts.
The cuts started early. I’m discouraged and humiliated in math classes throughout my school years to the point where I still get anxious doing math in front of others despite being good at it in private. A high school teacher tells me that I shouldn’t go to college for engineering, but instead something nurturing (you know, what women are good for).