The Latest

Aug 30, 2014 / 47,041 notes
The trend of labeling women “crazy” is part of the culture that socializes women to go along to get along. When women are told over and over again that they’re not allowed to feel the way they feel and that they’re being “unreasonable” or “oversensitive”, they’re conditioned to not trust their own emotions. Their behavior – being assertive, even demanding or standing up for how they feel – becomes an “inconvenience” to men and they’re taught not to give offense and to consider the feelings of others before their own.
Aug 30, 2014 / 3,054 notes
Aug 30, 2014 / 59,569 notes

(via lilikoiiii)

Aug 28, 2014 / 175,299 notes


dog trying to save fishes

This broke my freakin heart

(via galaxy-faraway)

Aug 26, 2014 / 25,043 notes
Aug 26, 2014 / 6,408 notes
Aug 26, 2014 / 412 notes

(via floranymph)

It was the tension between these two poles – a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other – that kept me going.
Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary (via introspectivepoet)

(via introspectivepoet)

Aug 26, 2014 / 113 notes

It’s a common and easy enough distinction, this separation of books into those we read because we want to and those we read because we have to, and it serves as a useful marketing trope for publishers, especially when they are trying to get readers to take this book rather than that one to the beach. But it’s a flawed and pernicious division… a debased cultural Puritanism, which insists that the only fun to be had with a book is the frivolous kind, or that it’s necessarily a pleasure to read something accessible and easy. Associating pleasure and guilt in this way presumes an anterior, scolding authority—one which insists that reading must be work.

But there are pleasures to be had from books beyond being lightly entertained. There is the pleasure of being challenged; the pleasure of feeling one’s range and capacities expanding; the pleasure of entering into an unfamiliar world, and being led into empathy with a consciousness very different from one’s own; the pleasure of knowing what others have already thought it worth knowing, and entering a larger conversation.


The fallacy that the pleasures offered by reading must necessarily be pleasures to which a self-defeating sense of shame is attached offers a very impoverished definition of gratification, whatever book we choose to pull from the shelf.

In a beautiful New Yorker essay, Rebecca Mead, author of My Life in Middlemarch, extols the pleasure of reading to impress yourself.

Here’s to making your own “beach reading” both pleasurable and intelligent.

(via explore-blog)
Aug 25, 2014 / 467 notes

Aug 25, 2014 / 4,362 notes