I’m sure this sounds weird, but I’ve been thinking about Paul Bunyan a lot, and how my life is peppered with people that I’ve made into myths.
(Source: connorclegg)
Once you love yourself, you can be the best version of yourself. You will find success and happiness. You will find that being different is a wholly wonderful and joyous thing, because it will mark you for greatness.
From Standing on the Sun, a speech by Mitch Anderson, high school senior: http://bit.ly/11Bscqf
This piece of writing encompasses everything that I’ve been struggling with for the past 10 months. Forwarded to me by the smartest and most insightful person I know.
Same as it ever was.
I sleep in my running shorts with the fan on, and I wake up in cold sweats and never remember any of my dreams. Teenage summer.
Rather than fighting for every woman’s right to feel beautiful, I would like to see the return of a kind of feminism that tells women and girls everywhere that maybe it’s all right not to be pretty and perfectly well behaved. That maybe women who are plain, or large, or old, or differently abled, or who simply don’t give a damn what they look like because they’re too busy saving the world or rearranging their sock drawer, have as much right to take up space as anyone else.
I think if we want to take care of the next generation of girls we should reassure them that power, strength and character are more important than beauty and always will be, and that even if they aren’t thin and pretty, they are still worthy of respect. That feeling is the birthright of men everywhere. It’s about time we claimed it for ourselves.
I don’t want to be told I’m pretty as I am - I want to live in a world where that’s irrelevant (via brute-reason)
New things
New things. Short stories and songs with banjos in them and a drink called a Peruvian Bear Fucker, and a spacious new room all to myself. Finishing a story soon, maybe. Definitely shopping at the Shaw farmers’ market, cleaning out my house and loving everyone around me so much that it hurts.
I was single the summer that I was 17—the only summer in the last eight years. I worked hard and drove myself around Houghton and felt something new, a kind of self-reliance and peace. I think I can get back to that, if I try hard enough. I’m looking at things a different way now. It just takes practice.
