treat me like a college textbook. spend lots of money on me but never touch or look at me
no. treat me like your favorite book. keep me by your side, touch my every page, learn all my twists and turns, remember every word I say, even the ones that make you cry
*4-second-long fart noise*
I took my girlfriend to an improv show the other night and during intermission we were passionately arguing over whether half a 5 Hour Energy shot would give you 2.5 hours of energy or 5 hours of half-assed energy so we turned around to ask the opinions of the three people behind us and one of them said “Are all your arguments like this because we heard you in the lobby earlier fighting over the right way to pronounce ‘egg’?”
Thorin’s motivations in The Hobbit movie: deep, meaningful destiny to reclaim ancestral homeland
Thorin’s motivations in The Hobbit book:
Excerpt, "Barbarous Rituals," in Sisterhood is Powerful. (via yellowboxturtle)
—-kicking strongly in your mother’s womb, upon which she is told, “It must be a boy, if it’s so active!”
—-being tagged with a pink beaded bracelet thirty seconds after you are born, and wrapped in pink blankets five minutes thereafter.
—-being confined to the Doll Corner in nursery school when you are really fascinated by Tinker Toys.
—-wanting to wear overalls instead of “frocks.”
—-learning to detest the words “dainty” and “cute. “
—-being labeled a tomboy when all you wanted to do was climb that tree to look out and see a distance.
—-learning to sit with your legs crossed, even when your feet can’t touch the floor yet.
—-hating boys—because they’re allowed to do things you want to do but are forbidden to—and being told hating boys is a phase.
—-learning that something you do is “naughty,” but when your brother does the same thing, it’s “spunky.”
—-wondering why your father gets mad now and then, but your mother mostly sighs a lot.
—-seeing grownups chuckle when you say you want to be an engineer or doctor when you grow up—and learning to say you want to be a mommy or a nurse, instead.
—-wanting to shave your legs at twelve and being agonized because your mother won’t let you.
—-being agonized at fourteen because you finally have shaved your legs, and your flesh is on fire.
—-being told nothing whatsoever about menstruation, so that you think you are bleeding to death with your first period, or:
—-being told all about it in advance by kids at school who titter and make it clear the whole thing is dirty, or:
—-being prepared for it by your mother, who carefully reiterates that it isn’t dirty, all the while talking just above a whisper, and referring to it as the “curse,” “being sick,” or “falling off the roof.”
—-feeling proud of and disgusted by your own body, for the first, but not last, time.
—-dreading summertime because more of your body with its imperfections will be seen—and judged.
—-liking math or history a lot and getting hints that boys are turned off by smart girls.
—-getting hints that other girls are turned off by smart girls.
—-finally getting turned off by smart girls, unconsciously dropping back, lousing up your marks, and being liked by the other kids at last.
—-having an intense crush on another girl or on a woman teacher and learning that that’s unspeakable.
Fun little trick I learned in therapy: validation. When someone is upset, don’t try to fix the problem, point out the cause, or tell them it could be worse. Just validate their emotions. Be like, ‘shit yeah man, that sucks. I’m sorry you’re going through that. I’m here for you.’ That’s literally all you have to do to make them feel better. Thank you and goodnight.