uhg…I miss being able to do this
Valentine’s day is boring. Instead, let’s celebrate the anniversary of Native Hawaiians killing the fuck outta douchebag English explorer Captain James Cook, on February 14, 1779.
anti-colonialism and indigenous resistance 8ever.
It’s that time of year again.
Oh my god, YES!
I am from the town that Captain Cook was from. My mum lived across from what is now a park, but was where he was born. There are museums and statues and monuments all dedicated to him. Everyone is ever so proud that once upon a time this small, broken, industrial north eastern town in England was the birthplace and home of Captain James Cook… And I hate it.
Lupercalia is a much better holiday http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lupercalia
D’aww, how sweet. Happy Valentine’s day! :D
HAHHAHAHA I forgot I had posted this bwhahahhaa
Fuck, why do I even try then? Man. I wish she would realize that she doesn’t love him as much as she thinks she does. It’s just a subconscious coping method and/or way that your past affects your present. Your whole life was filled with agonizing abuse, but now you are in too much of a hurry to…
I have had this conversation many times. It never makes a difference, in fact, depending on your relationship, it could make it worse because now they have to “prove you wrong”. These days, when someone cuts off a portion of themselves just to be liked, I just say, “Let me know how it works out after a couple of years with someone who only likes 70% of you.”
We just broke the 75% mark with 9 days to go. Help us make it happen! http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/tentacle-grape-soda/
I suppose a tentacle monster can be a daddy too…..oO
Love you all! <3
You are all amazing!
I need to remember this
and that’s why you don’t go around fixing people
and that’s why you don’t give up pieces of yourself to make someone else whole
We do this more than we think. Sometimes we reject those who have helped us the most. Other times, we help those who allow their egos to hide their humilities.
someONE FUCKING MAKE THAT TEDDY BEAR HAPPY BEFORE I CHOKE BECAUSE I HAVE TEARS BRIMMING MY EYES HELP ME
it may take time but there is someone waiting to hold your handMy tears
No lie this hits home for me
right in the feels
A little love on CNN today
The Battle Of The Nations is an international full contact medieval martial arts tournament held annually in Europe. The competitors wear a complete suit of period accurate armor and fight using metal weapons
MMA for nerds made it to CNN today
»MMA for nerds
My Polish friend said that “nerd” translates to “loser” in many translating programs. I also sometimes forget that being a nerd is not a compliment in some backward cultures. I am sorry if I offended you. If you are offended because you are a nerd or “lntellectual hobbist” then understand that I compliment these fighters. It is really the the first sport that has interested me.
So, I guess we have all been there. The thrill of a new partner, the wild sex, the chemicals pumping through the body at a million miles an hour. “Oh my God!” you say to your self “This is the One for me! This is what I have been waiting for! At last - someone with whom I truly connect!”
In those first heady weeks you may find yourself planning all sorts of nonsense: you imagine being branded and collared in front of a group of your deeply admiring and slightly jealous friends. You will become a slave, move in with your new love to serve them 24/7. People throughout the kink world will speak in hushed tones of your union, holding it up as the one true example of how a D/s relationship should be. For surely, never in the history of kink, nay, the history of love itself, has there ever been two souls quite so perfectly matched.
But wait. Hang on a minute.
If you can step down for just one moment from your cloud of unrelenting bullshit, you might notice that there is something wrong. Maybe it is the way that you always seem to initiate the text messages; messages that, if responded to at all, are met with short, terse replies, indicating that the object of your affections is busy tonight. Actually they are busy for the rest of the week, though they might be able to slip in a session with you for an hour and a half next Sunday, maybe, they’ll get back to you on that.
"That’s OK" you say to yourself "They have a life outside of kink". So you wait. And you wait. And you start to fret. And when you do eventually pluck up the courage to call them, they seem perplexed by the hyperventilating mess you have become.
Because you were just a fuck.
That once-in-a-life-time-soul-defining scene that you shared with them: just a fuck. The way they looked into your eyes, their fist coiled into the roots of your hair as they growled the words you longed to hear: just a fuck. And as they held your spent and shaking body in the glorious endorphin soaked aftermath - they were probably planning what to buy at the supermarket.
The realization hits hard and fast. You fall. You feel confused, hurt, betrayed, angry……. above all you feel a bit of a twat.
But it is at this point, my overzealous and romantically inclined friend, that you have a choice. Up until now you have been living in a bubble, cushioned against reality by the soft soaped froth of your sex addled brain. But now, as your dreams lay shattered among the twisted wreckage of your heart, you have the power to take control.
Of course the easiest thing to do is to blame the one for whom you fell. After all, they were leading you on right? I mean, the way they held you, kissed you, rammed that dildo so far up your ass that your eyes almost popped out -that was them telling you that they loved you right? Wrong. Detach the fluff from the retina of your memory and you will see: there were no protestations of love, no cosy conversations about your future. Nothing, in fact, other than those vague discussions about the next scene, birth control and btw, when was the last time you went for a check up at the VD clinic?
No, you gave your heart unwanted and unbidden; non consensually if you will. You are the one who is hurting so it seems natural to paint yourself as the “victim”, but it was not your lover who created this fantasy, this fairy tale castle built upon the precipice of your unfulfilled needs and desires -nope, that was you. It was you who misread the signs and wove them into a web of fiction, you who needed to much and saw too little. YOU DID THIS TO YOURSELF and that is why you are hurting now.
So before you rush off to write a bold expose on how bad a Dom such-and-such is, or how so-and-so is a heartless bitch, think on. What did they want from the relationship? How have you fulfilled their needs and desires? How have your unrealistic expectations affected them?
And practice a little grace.
If you really care for this person then you will detach your toxic self from their presence immediately. Maybe, with a little distance, you will be able to see them for who they are, not as the bodily manifestation of all your romantic needs and desires.
Accept responsibility: Take a look inside and try to discover the key to yourself. Find ways to love yourself, care for yourself and to fill the yawning chasm within. You can grow from this, really you can, it just takes a bit of time.
Laugh: we all do some damn fool things from time to time and this is one of them.
Talk to your friends: I bet most of them have experienced similar situations.
Above all be happy: Be happy that you are a fully realized human being, with the potential to express love. Because believe me, it is better to love too hard and too deep than to never love at all. And one day, who knows, maybe you will meet someone who is as bigger fool as you are x
Yes. Yes we do.
I went on a date last night and then you texted and asked, again, whether I would come there. Start our days with coffee, end with you making dinner. Forever. I feel myself tug towards yes and then I remember why it will always be no with you and I.
There are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. They will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.
They are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brothers dared you to run across a pile of logs. They won’t know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. They’ll miss the scar on your finger, too from the time you were seven and closed a swiss army knife on it. They won’t understand that these are two of only a handful of things you can remember about your childhood. They’ll notice that you have great tits, but they’ll miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you’re walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. They won’t know you get migraines. They won’t ask where the story you wrote came from, so they’ll never know that it was true. They’ll love it because it feels real to them. They’ll miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. You might tell them some of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.
They will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. They won’t ever consider you strong.
When the parts that aren’t your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours until their irises burn. They’ll silently make you promise to never show them that again. Those things are not to be shown. Be at your best so I can love you. I would love you more if only you never show me those things.
And you do not marry those people. You do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. You leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.
Or they leave you.
My nine or so followers may have noticed that I have been quiet for a few weeks now. The reason is simple. I moved out of the house I have shared with my partner for nearly two decades because I caught her in bed with two guys. See? Simple, really.
Truth be told, we had not been getting on well…
humor, even dark is an excellent coping method. I sometimes do this when relating a particularly horrific experience, much to the horror of the listener. They think I am a monster, but it really just how i keep from crying inside.