Lisa, 23, feminist, jewish (and badly agnostic). To the best of my ability to determine, my sexual orientation is "sprung rhythm" and my gender expression is "fabulous badger". (She/her/hers pronouns are fine.)EMT, aspiring PA. Poetry, intersectional feminism, Pacific Rim, Night Vale, Circle of Magic, language, biology, and eclectic nerdery. Whovian blogging will resume when Moffat stops fucking everything up.If it involves dragons or iambic pentameter, you'll probably find it here.
WARNING: CURRENTLY IN THE MIDDLE OF AN X-FILES LIVEBLOG/FEELINGS SPIRAL. If you don't want X-Files spoilers and lots of Scully feelings, TURN BACK NOW.
Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun - drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable.
Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit.
You cannot romanticize hurt.
You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way.
And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film.
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Anger, that beautiful daughter of hope, demands action. Anger changes things. It seeks to correct the injustice that offendedness merely wants to savor. Anger sees injustice and tries to rip it out at the root. Offendedness looks at injustice the way a oenophile looks at a nice bottle of Chianti — wanting to preserve it in the cellar with the rest of the well-stocked, impeccably organized collection so that one day it might be taken out and enjoyed, swirled on the tongue to luxuriate in every piquant note of flavor.
Rules of High School.
Thankfully, ‘befriend the nerds’ was one they followed at my school. Don’t know what I would have done otherwise. :)
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If we believe that all humans are both intrinsically valuable and intrinsically fallible, then we are compelled to be tolerant of others in recognition of their worth and dignity and of our own humble and partial and likely flawed perspective.
There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.