Anderson Cooper & Grumpy Cat on Anderson Live
This cat’s fame has already outshined Rebecca Black and Carly Rae Jepsen combined and he don’t even care, he’s just like “Put me down Anderson this is so undignified I hate my life”
“Saying goodbye is most difficult when there is a part of you which believes it is only a “see you later.” You would never fully admit it, but you intend on seeing them again. You count on them making certain changes — changes that you know in your heart are in their best interest — and coming back to you a new person, ready to accept and give the love you so desire. We construct entire imaginary people who will return to our lives, people who borrow lightly on the qualities we know they actually have and fill in the blanks with a million hopeful improvements. They will be better, they will be stronger, and yet they will still retain all of the things we cherry-picked when we loved them.
When I said goodbye, I meant, “Fix these things and I will see you soon.”
Maybe I should have reminded myself that this was not my path to walk, that I barely knew this person, and that I could not force someone to want to get better. But in the moment, it’s so hard. We hear a lot about “hitting bottom,” “creating consequences,” and “enabling” — but what does that all mean when you only want to see someone, and hold them, even if they are too sick to hold you back? We are all selfish, and no one really wants to say goodbye. There will come a point at which your love for someone else — your will for them to get better, to stop hurting you, to stop hurting themselves — will be overcome with a more palpable love for being healthy and safe.”
I found this on Thought Catalog this morning- it hit close to home, and also made a lot of sense. I think there’s a false sense of guilt in walking away from a relationship with an addict, that you leaving is abandonment, or a suggestion that you lack the desire to help them, or that you leaving will perhaps (in some weird, false way) make the addiction worse. I myself have done the whole saying-goodbye-but-read-my-mind-i-mean-see-you-later thing; it didn’t work out, and I’m confident there is a reason for that, and yes, that it was ultimately the right (but hardest) decision. I’ve learned over the last year that a lot of us have been here, between the love of an addict and a hard place. That’s why, when I read the article, I was filled with peace: it is endlessly encouraging to know the lies we believe about leaving when it’s necessary are just lies. And, that other people have been here too and recognize that, and will understand your decision. There’s a time and place where such love works out in the end; but there’s just as many time and places where it becomes unhealthy and unsafe for your own heart.
“Guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.”
It was written to us for a reason.
Read the whole thought here.
My favorite light is that late afternoon light, right before the sun sets, that makes everything gold and the atmosphere looks like a Renaissance Venetian painting. I’m sitting at a red and white checkered kitchen table watching streaks of sun grow long and stretch through the blinds, across checkered borders, and over the island counter, where the rest of the blinds rest their shadows. I imagine that in the next twenty minutes or so I’ll see these shapes, this light, move all over the kitchen, creating more ephemeral artwork on the walls, the cabinets, the stove, claiming every counter top item and kitchen knicknack for itself.
In a room, it makes everything peaceful. In the library at school, it’s refreshing, cheerful; an enticing summons away from the depths of the books and their stresses that gets your mind to the surface for a deep breath. But the best is when you get to be outside during this light and soak in it.
I think of baby leaves on the front yard tree suddenly being the greenest pea green. The Georgia mountains reflecting the all-knowing glow, sitting proud and magnificent, for a while washed of their dusty blue. The quad and empty, summertime Kirksville, which under this light seemed more enchanting and delightful to be in and less desolate and melancholy.
To catch it and always have it in a jar on my desk would be rather lovely, but then this special time of day might lose is magic.
“Male privilege is “I have a boyfriend” being the only thing that can actually stop someone from hitting on you because they respect another male-bodied person more than they respect your rejection/lack of interest.”
Wearing leggings, making endless amounts of coffee, and alternating readings between Cheaper by the Dozen, fin de siecle history, and queer theory readers, listening to Bilie Holliday. Which, makes for an interesting afternoon.
See also: crafting/pinning/watching office reruns for the Nth time. Absolutely enjoying temporary social isolation and reveling in non-Sodexo food. (It took me over a year to become a cranky Sodexo whiner, but yep. It’s happened. Tried to fight it. It’s the worst.)
Between now and Sunday’s return to school, I’m planning on leaving the house….oh, twice. Maybe three times.
Spring Break is the /best/.
“It’s Valentine’s Day! Bitter? Stop that. Stop it right now. There is a whole entire world, a whole entire universe, with things to love, and today, you are required to celebrate it. Love your friends? Make dinner together. Love your family? Call them. Love Lord of the Rings? Watch it. Love a poem? Read it. Love nature? Skip class. Go on a hike. Love yourself? You should, so slow down and do your absolute best to show it. And if you can’t find a single thing to love, go outside. Look at the clouds, the trees, look at the stars. Look closely. Everything is perfect. And you are part of the perfection. So, go have a Blue Moon or a cup of tea or read Harry Potter or listen to Marvin Gaye or bake shitty Pillsbury cookies with friends or whatever it is that brings you love.
Great. Now do that every day.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Go fall in love.”
A friend of mine posted this on facebook on Valentine’s day, which was forever ago…but self love is always relevant, so get loving!
I’m trying to get through the last late homework night of midterms and it’s taking every ounce of restraint in my body to keep me from jumping up on one of these tables in the near empty cafeteria and shrieking ELVIS! ELVIS! LET ME BEEE! KEEP THAT PELVIS FARRR FROM MEEE! in my best Rizzo voice right now because I’m delirious and have been listening to basically nothing but the Grease soundtrack all week.