I occasionally write, constantly scheme, frequently read, repeatedly daydream, and never pay my bills on time.
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2016 Year in Review.
So this was the year I stopped posting on Tumblr for good, which I’ve said I was going to do several times in the past but I figured, since I haven’t really logged on here since July last time I checked, and since nobody is really around anymore, I feel like this is the perfect place to spill out my thoughts once again for my annual Year in Review posts I do on the last day of every year. It feels like I’m yelling inside an empty room with nobody to listen, which in many ways, really described 2016 in general.
And then there were four.
I never knew what it felt like to lose a pet until
today.
It’s going to be so weird not referring to my dogs as my five toy poodles anymore.
Rest in peace baby Ricky. I love you so much. And I will always love you.
I’d give anything to hold you again, have you fall asleep on my wrist as you always do, and have you lick my face. I always lovingly called you Ugly Ricky because of your underbite but you know I loved you so much deep down inside. You were so smart, such a good dog, so well behaved.
I’m going to forever miss your distinct barks every time I entered the house.
You were such a good watchdog, and what makes me sad was that you never got to relax because you were always alert, always waiting for something, always watching.
Keep watching over us Ricky. Until we meet again, I know you won’t be far away.
My disposition was just absolutely horrible today. Today was just awful. I felt awful. Everything was awful.
Hormones got me all sorts of hella fucked up in every which way possible.
Today was a weird day. Barely ate and kept developing fixed stares on nothing in particular and felt dead as hell inside.
Here’s hoping tomorrow will be better. Or at least my body and brain will resume to its normal disposition.
Here’s to really hoping.
When you hear your white colleague or friend complain that white trash is a racist slur, you need to remind them that the slur is not racist. The slur casts aspersion upon a kind of denigrated white person in response to white supremacy, to white social class, to oppressive economic class, and historically to the dehumanization of black people as closer to animals than whites. White trash was a phrase for the “low down” white who behaved like a brute. It makes sense. You call me an animal?! Look at yourself. You’re the brute. I have more morals than you. It’s a slur that originates in a just response to whiteness that nobody cared to hear. So, it’s also quite adamant in its anger. White people using it as a slur against poorer whites appropriated the word. Without violent white supremacy that insists white people, even the poorest, least educated, propertyless whites, are better than, more moral than, and offered an opportunity to succeed first, by law, before all others, the term wouldn’t have come into such prominence.
Maybe we shouldn’t be using the word. We can talk about that. But it’s not a racist slur and it does maintain its relation to its historical usage in the present day. Understanding this can help us, though, come to a better understanding of why colorblind class struggle is a bad idea.
I’m getting old.
I spent the past two days after work to make individual handmade Mother’s Day gifts (67 mind you) to hand out to the moms at my church for Sunday, and baked two loaves of chocolate chip banana bread, which I’d never made before in my life.
I made the bread because I had four extremely ripe bananas that I knew I wanted to get rid of since I’ll be gone for ten days.
And I figured I’d bring it to the office to share with my coworkers today since I won’t be coming in for ten days. Idk what me being gone has to do with bringing banana bread for my coworkers but Lord knows I won’t eat all the bread by myself, even though secretly I know I actually can.
I’m really Martha Stewart-ing that shit up this week, aren’t I?
I’ve become so domesticated. And boring. This was seriously the most exciting thing I did all week this week.
One of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me: “You just really have your shit together, and that turns me on. You have your own social circle of friends, you have a career, you always have something going on and you have your own life. That’s probably what I like about you the most.”
Bill Clinton says Black Lives Matter activists are defending murderers
now can we lay to rest that myth that he cared about black people?
Maybe when BLM starts freaking out about black on black crime as much as white on black crime this won’t be a problem, considering the vast majority of crimes committed against blacks in the last few decades have been committed by blacks.
This claim about black on black crime is a white supremacist construct that ignores the historical circumstances that created the social reality the claim generalizes to score political points. It’s one of the more disgusting claims because it forgives the racism of the policing, prosecution, prison, and class, for that matter.
Also the logical implication of your claim is, from this perspective, black lives won’t matter until white people murder more black people. It assumes that white people value (black or all) life more than black people do. Again. This ignores social reality.
Common sense failure.
(via dagwolf)
Look what Sara got me!! I nearly shat myself! Say hello to Larry Rafael Ernesto James Armstrong the First! My new monkey’s name!
RIP my sweet angel. I’m seriously so sad that we barely missed each other when I was first moved to Boston two years ago to meet in person for the first time in our lives after following each other on Tumblr for four years. I had to hear through another mutual follower just now to hear that you’ve passed away on Monday, March 21, 2016 after missing for 24 hours. They say the last time they saw you, you were headed to White Plains with some friends. I still don’t know how you passed away or exactly when you did or why—all I have are questions but no answers, fleeting memories of our budding relationship on Tumblr back in 2010 before we moved onto tweeting and texting each other every few months to check in on each other. You were absolutely beautiful, wise and so, incredibly incredibly intelligent beyond your years. It’s hard to believe you were only 14 when we first met…your writing caught my eye right away—it was absolutely flawless, raw, real, ridiculously brilliant, and everything in between. As our friendship progressed, our communication moved beyond the pixelated words on a flatscreen—we started sending each other pen pal packages, wrote each other letters; I still have that knitted wool monkey you first made me and mailed to me back in 2010.
The last time we really talked for hours straight was right before I was moving to Boston. We’d excitedly made plans to meet up someday since you lived in New York. Then the last actual time you and I communicated was a year ago, on Twitter, when I asked you to not be a stranger so that we could rekindle our regular communication.
You’ve left such a huge impact on so many people on this crazy website, and it pains me to realize that you’ve deleted your Tumblr page so many times so that I can never be able to re-visit all your thoughts and re-read everything you’ve ever cared to share on the Internet; all I have are memories from the virtual web that will slowly subside because I no longer can find your footprints buried within my notes’ replies from several years before–all those agreements, sometimes disagreements, laughs, inside jokes, advice, and affirmations that helped make my blogging experience that much more powerful. All I have left to commemorate any traces of you left on my pages are my @ mentions to you but nothing that can lead me back to where it all started, six years ago. It’s like searching in the dark for a hand only to find that it’s no longer there. You were a prime example of the importance of friendships on the Internet…it wasn’t about the Internet or even Tumblr; it’s about the fact that you were one of the few that I so quickly bonded with and someone who became such an integral part of my daily writing life.
It isn’t about “friends you’ve never met in real life” having such an impact I guess—it’s the fact that you were always there by not only my side but everyone else’s with your wit and soul.
We’ve told each other so many things, shared so many private stories and you were one of the few people on here that I was able to really let my guard down with. I’ve told you things that I never could tell anyone else, because you were someone I actually looked up to even though you were so much younger than me. We talked literally every day; you were one of the only people in my life I was able to trust with so many secrets, and I could only hope that while you were still alive that I was able to serve as positive of a purpose to you as you did for me. I’ll always regret never being able to have met you in person but for now, all I can do is read through our texts and cry over how the universe has lost another beautiful human being…so real, so mature, so raw, so genuine, so loving, so giving, and an amazing confidante.
I still remember all that you struggled with, or hopefully, used to struggle with, and I hope that in the recent years you were able to mend that timeline and come to terms with your past, or at the very least, were able to find the solace you sought after for so long and truly deserved. I’m sorry that I never followed up on those issues, but I hope that towards the end, you were able to free yourself from those chains.
Rest in Peace, Sara Marie Hilpert, you crazy, brilliant, kind, beautiful soul. You were gone too fast. I won’t ever forget you.
Death by gentrification: the killing that shamed San Francisco | Rebecca Solnit | US news | The Guardian
READ.
“At the trial, Fritz testified that he had not seen anything alarming about Nieto. At about 7:11 pm he began talking to the 911 dispatcher telling her that there was a "probably foreign” man with a black handgun. That a relative newcomer perceived Nieto as foreign says something unpleasant about assumptions about who belongs here and what kind of a place this is supposed to be.
What race, asked the dispatcher, black or Hispanic?
Hispanic, replied Fritz. Later the dispatcher asked him if the man in question was doing anything violent and Fritz answered, just pacing it looks like he might be eating chips or sunflowers but he’s resting a hand kind of on the gun.
Alex Nieto had about five more minutes to live.“
Watch: When Mitt Romney makes the same points as John Oliver, you know shit’s gone south.
If Mitt Romney thinks you’re an idiot, you KNOW you fucked up
^^
I never would’ve thought I’d live to see the day where I admit this but fuck…you go Mitt Romney.
(Source: mic.com, via valerieresin-blog)
https://www.gofundme.com/p9rzjhhg
Fuzz was stabbed by KKK a member at a rally in Anaheim,Ca this passed week.
Im sure people have heard about it as it turned violent and suprise the KKK members arnt being looked at as criminals.
He is on his second surgery. This is local and important.
These are the people we need to show these white supremacist fuckers that they have no fucking country to “take back”.
Please,help out if you can. Or share. Reblog,please.
This is important. This was one man who stood up for himself,his people and mine. I had friends at this rally,we can’t let the people think this is okay.
(via gowns)