Bob Kee of the Samaritans (a migrant advocacy organization)savagemike)
Dear Dr. Tiller,
The one year anniversary of your murder is coming up in about two weeks. May 31, 2009. I can’t believe it has already been one year. It’s weird that so much time has gone by. It seems like not that long ago I was crying at your vigil. At the same time, it seems like four lifetimes ago. I don’t tell people anymore, “Oh, just get to Wichita. Just get to Wichita. Don’t worry about anything else.” I can’t tell anyone that and women have babies now. Dead babies. Severely deformed babies. Moms have died. I have gotten used to that fact. Depressing, right?” —The Abortioneers (via sluthaditcoming)
Also, lines from the movies Napoleon Dynamite and PeeWee’s Big Adventure have been quoted several times.
Apparently, taking the dog for a 20 minute walk in the rain then coming home and cleaning the kitchen while listening/dancing to Jay-Z is not the best way to prepare yourself for it.
I’m terrified of becoming my grandmother.
She’s been here in Wichita for the last few weeks from Tulsa where she lives with my my uncle. She’s only 62 years old and will not be able to stay by herself much longer. She’s just mentally unstable.
She raised four kids, by four different fathers, on her own. She worked at Walmart for over 20 years. She now is not able to work and has no way of supporting herself.
She’s worse everytime I see her. She used to be so creative, so incredibly talented. I was extremely jealous of her abilities. She painted, she would make all of her grandkids Halloween costumes, and she made beautiful jewelery. Basicly, she could do anything. Sometimes she will be sitting in her chair knitting and she will just stop, like she’s completely forgotten how to do something she’s done for over 40 years. The vibrant, loving, selfless woman I once knew is disappearing.
You know how on medical history forms that you have to fill out at the the doctor it always asks if there is a history of mental illness in your family? Well, there’s always a box for yes or no but never an undiagnosed box, which would be a large portion of my family. So, yeah, I’m scared.
Modesty is nothing more than polite self-doubt.
Every step you take, mean it.
And if you’re not sure and really are uncertain, PRETEND.
Fucking fake it.
on the cookie aisle. I was dumbfounded.
If there’s one thing I know, it’s cookies.
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.” —Pablo Neruda (via pufflepie)
My uncle, whom I rarely speak to, just randomly sent me this text: “I was just looking at your pics on your facebook profile. Do you realize how pretty you are? Really. You are a beautiful young woman.” Very rarely am I complimented so this totally made my day, which had been incredibly shitty until now.
I’m an incredibly negative person. I really am. But deep down in my dark, cold heart I still believe that I will one day find that person I’m supposed to be with. That one person that will show me, for the first time in my life, what happiness feels like. What it feels like to be loved. To love.
So, I haven’t given up. Yet.
“What the fuck do you mean you understand? You understand what it’s like to go to bed alone every night and want more than anything to have someone there when you wake up? You understand that your closest family member is 3 hours away? You understand the fear of never having children or a family of your own? You understand the complete frustration of a job that grinds you down more everyday? No, you don’t fucking understand. You have been married to your husband for almost ten years now. Yes, your husband does occassionally travel for work, but is never gone for more than a week. You have two beautiful little girls and will have another in just a few months. Every time I talk to you you tell me about how much fun you had at the zoo with your kids that day or about the next vacation you are planning. So, no you really don’t understand.”
But all I really say is “Thank you.”
My grandma just offered me a Pop Tart and a Dr Pepper. That’s the closest she’s ever come to “cooking” a meal for me. And that does not bother me in the least.
Also, that movie so came on while I was in the shower. I was totally not watching it beforehand.