if not people, then what?
trippytriangles:

ifnotpeople:

trippytriangles:

mausspace:

thatsnotwhathipposdo:

This was the outfit I wore to school today. I spent forever doing my hair, made an effort to actually wear makeup, wore jewelry, the whole nine yards, which I seriously never do. I wanted to get away from the normal t-shirt and jeans I usually wear so that I could take cute pictures with the Seniors on their way out of high school for the last time.
If you’ll notice, the front of the skirt is more than halfway down my thigh and I even had shorts on underneath. There’s no way anyone was seeing anything under this skirt.
At my school we have a “knee length” rule for all bottoms. I got through periods 1 through 4 with not even a comment from a teacher or administrator. All I got was compliments from many students, which made me feel awesome about myself.
In lunch, I go to the vending machine to get water. The second I turn around, there’s the Principal right in my face. “Hi there, your skirt is very pretty, but it’s way too short.”
“Well Mr.Crouch, I am pretty tall, and—“
“But that’s not what matters. I’m saying that if the sheer fabric wasn’t there, the part underneath wouldn’t be legal. So you’ve got two options, you can either go to ISS, or change into something appropriate. What do you want to do?”
“Um, well I think I might have something. I’ll change.”
“Okay, and come right back and show me what you’ve changed into.”
I knew I didn’t have anything to change into, because I’d worn this skirt before with no trouble.
I went back to my table to finish my lunch, and shortly after he approached me again.
“I thought you were going to go change?”
“I will, I just wanted to finish my lunch first.”
“Alright. And when you change, go show the front office to see if they approve.”
Now we’re standing at the door waiting to be released from lunch. Bear in mind, this will be 3 times he’s approached me in maybe a 10 minute time span.
“Are you going to change?”
“Yes, I just want to let my 5th period teacher know where I am.”
“What’s your first name again?”
“Emily.”
“And who’s your next teacher?”
“Mrs. Solburg.”
“Which one?”
“Drama.”
“Well I’ll let Mrs. Solburg know you’re going to be a few minutes late to class, alright?”
“Okay…”
So I went to class and let Mrs. Solburg know Mr. Crouch would be coming by soon because of my skirt and that I had no intentions of changing.
He walks in the classroom through the back entrance and says, apparently before scanning the room to see if I’m even in there, “Emily is going to be a few minutes late because she’s changing clothes. Oh, is she in here?”
Duh.
“Make sure you change.”
“Alright.”
He left, and I told my teacher that I didn’t have anything to change into. We looked in her closet and couldn’t find anything that normal people would wear that was both appropriate and matched what I was wearing. I told her to not worry about it, that I’d have my mom sign me out to go home.
When I hung up with my mom, here comes Mr. Crouch again. Mrs. Solburg tells him that I am signing out because I couldn’t find anything to change into.
“Oh, well she told me she had something to change into.”
“Mr. Crouch, I said that I might.”
“No, you said you had something.”
And he walked out.
Let’s count the things that were more wrong than my skirt, shall we?
1.      Him approaching me twice while I was trying to eat in our already short lunch time
2.      Him interrupting my theatre class twice just to tell me to change
3.      The fact he said my skirt wouldn’t be “legal” without the sheer fabric, and also, why would I wear the skirt without the outer fabric?! It’s the whole skirt!
4.      My friend Melissa had been trying to schedule a meeting with him since 2nd period to start up a donation drive for the suffering families in Oklahoma, and he was too busy following me around to help her
5.      So many Seniors were dressed way more inappropriately than me with tank tops and booty shorts
6.      I would have had to miss the Senior Walk even if I didn’t go home because I’d have been in ISS, so I didn’t get to say bye to all of my senior friends
7.      I had to disrupt my mom at work to sign me out
8.      I had to miss my last two classes when I had already been absent the previous day and needed to make up work
9.      He singled me out to the extreme, embarrassed me, and made me cry in front of my class
10.  My friend David wore shorts with a 5 inch inseam a few weeks ago and wasn’t even approached by an administrator. It was just shrugged off as him being a “silly boy”
11.  He didn’t even want to hear what I had to say about being tall (proportions, man. Put my skirt on any short girl and it would be fine. They don’t make cute skirts that are knee length on a 5’11” girl. It just doesn’t happen.), and he completely dismissed me when I said that I told him I *might* have a change of clothes, even though it was the truth
If he put just half as much effort as he did checking up on me every 5 minutes into, maybe, /running a school/, then everyone probably wouldn’t hate it so much.

also pretty fucking gross that he was paying that much attention to your legs
how scandalous, jesus christ

you should post his name and the school, don’t do him a favor by keeping him anonymous, he’s being a creep and you can probably get him in a ton of trouble if you tell this to the right person (his superiors perhaps) 

You knew of the policy beforehand, every school goes over this particular policy every year at least once. Don’t whine and cry because you weren’t able to get away with something you knew wasn’t allowed. Welcome to life my Millennial friend. You’ll learn to accept that the world does not and will not revolve around you or your skirt. By the way, if you are that tall, you need to learn to shop for clothing that fits properly.

she said she had worn the skirt before without any problems and as a tall person I can tell you that shopping for clothing is horrible, and in a lot of cases you end up having to shop online for longer sizes and some stores increase prices for them.  I personally am tall and skinny and pants are never long enough or when they are I have a couple of inches extra in the waist/hips.  clothing isn’t designed with every body in mind, they’re designed for an average.  this applies to height, weight, and shape.  most dresses and skirts are a standardized length, size, and shape, meaning that if you have short legs, you’re going to have a long dress, but if you have long legs you’ll have a short dress.  sure, you can alter clothing (or make your own), but that’s expensive or requires time and effort, not to mention sewing ability. 

I’m short and fat. Petite clothes are too short but regular clothes are too long. I’m not even going to get into finding proper sizes. I get the dilemma of proper clothing, I do. But if I find something that is too long but fits, I take the time to hem. To hem a pair of jeans it might take an hour, a skirt will also take about an hour. There’s really no excuse to not do it. Basic hand-sewing skills are all that’s needed, how-to videos can be found online.

trippytriangles:

ifnotpeople:

trippytriangles:

mausspace:

thatsnotwhathipposdo:

This was the outfit I wore to school today. I spent forever doing my hair, made an effort to actually wear makeup, wore jewelry, the whole nine yards, which I seriously never do. I wanted to get away from the normal t-shirt and jeans I usually wear so that I could take cute pictures with the Seniors on their way out of high school for the last time.

If you’ll notice, the front of the skirt is more than halfway down my thigh and I even had shorts on underneath. There’s no way anyone was seeing anything under this skirt.

At my school we have a “knee length” rule for all bottoms. I got through periods 1 through 4 with not even a comment from a teacher or administrator. All I got was compliments from many students, which made me feel awesome about myself.

In lunch, I go to the vending machine to get water. The second I turn around, there’s the Principal right in my face. “Hi there, your skirt is very pretty, but it’s way too short.”

“Well Mr.Crouch, I am pretty tall, and—“

“But that’s not what matters. I’m saying that if the sheer fabric wasn’t there, the part underneath wouldn’t be legal. So you’ve got two options, you can either go to ISS, or change into something appropriate. What do you want to do?”

“Um, well I think I might have something. I’ll change.”

“Okay, and come right back and show me what you’ve changed into.”

I knew I didn’t have anything to change into, because I’d worn this skirt before with no trouble.

I went back to my table to finish my lunch, and shortly after he approached me again.

“I thought you were going to go change?”

“I will, I just wanted to finish my lunch first.”

“Alright. And when you change, go show the front office to see if they approve.”

Now we’re standing at the door waiting to be released from lunch. Bear in mind, this will be 3 times he’s approached me in maybe a 10 minute time span.

“Are you going to change?”

“Yes, I just want to let my 5th period teacher know where I am.”

“What’s your first name again?”

“Emily.”

“And who’s your next teacher?”

“Mrs. Solburg.”

“Which one?”

“Drama.”

“Well I’ll let Mrs. Solburg know you’re going to be a few minutes late to class, alright?”

“Okay…”

So I went to class and let Mrs. Solburg know Mr. Crouch would be coming by soon because of my skirt and that I had no intentions of changing.

He walks in the classroom through the back entrance and says, apparently before scanning the room to see if I’m even in there, “Emily is going to be a few minutes late because she’s changing clothes. Oh, is she in here?”

Duh.

“Make sure you change.”

“Alright.”

He left, and I told my teacher that I didn’t have anything to change into. We looked in her closet and couldn’t find anything that normal people would wear that was both appropriate and matched what I was wearing. I told her to not worry about it, that I’d have my mom sign me out to go home.

When I hung up with my mom, here comes Mr. Crouch again. Mrs. Solburg tells him that I am signing out because I couldn’t find anything to change into.

“Oh, well she told me she had something to change into.”

“Mr. Crouch, I said that I might.”

“No, you said you had something.”

And he walked out.

Let’s count the things that were more wrong than my skirt, shall we?

1.      Him approaching me twice while I was trying to eat in our already short lunch time

2.      Him interrupting my theatre class twice just to tell me to change

3.      The fact he said my skirt wouldn’t be “legal” without the sheer fabric, and also, why would I wear the skirt without the outer fabric?! It’s the whole skirt!

4.      My friend Melissa had been trying to schedule a meeting with him since 2nd period to start up a donation drive for the suffering families in Oklahoma, and he was too busy following me around to help her

5.      So many Seniors were dressed way more inappropriately than me with tank tops and booty shorts

6.      I would have had to miss the Senior Walk even if I didn’t go home because I’d have been in ISS, so I didn’t get to say bye to all of my senior friends

7.      I had to disrupt my mom at work to sign me out

8.      I had to miss my last two classes when I had already been absent the previous day and needed to make up work

9.      He singled me out to the extreme, embarrassed me, and made me cry in front of my class

10.  My friend David wore shorts with a 5 inch inseam a few weeks ago and wasn’t even approached by an administrator. It was just shrugged off as him being a “silly boy”

11.  He didn’t even want to hear what I had to say about being tall (proportions, man. Put my skirt on any short girl and it would be fine. They don’t make cute skirts that are knee length on a 5’11” girl. It just doesn’t happen.), and he completely dismissed me when I said that I told him I *might* have a change of clothes, even though it was the truth

If he put just half as much effort as he did checking up on me every 5 minutes into, maybe, /running a school/, then everyone probably wouldn’t hate it so much.

also pretty fucking gross that he was paying that much attention to your legs

how scandalous, jesus christ

you should post his name and the school, don’t do him a favor by keeping him anonymous, he’s being a creep and you can probably get him in a ton of trouble if you tell this to the right person (his superiors perhaps) 

You knew of the policy beforehand, every school goes over this particular policy every year at least once. Don’t whine and cry because you weren’t able to get away with something you knew wasn’t allowed. Welcome to life my Millennial friend. You’ll learn to accept that the world does not and will not revolve around you or your skirt. By the way, if you are that tall, you need to learn to shop for clothing that fits properly.

she said she had worn the skirt before without any problems and as a tall person I can tell you that shopping for clothing is horrible, and in a lot of cases you end up having to shop online for longer sizes and some stores increase prices for them.  I personally am tall and skinny and pants are never long enough or when they are I have a couple of inches extra in the waist/hips.  clothing isn’t designed with every body in mind, they’re designed for an average.  this applies to height, weight, and shape.  most dresses and skirts are a standardized length, size, and shape, meaning that if you have short legs, you’re going to have a long dress, but if you have long legs you’ll have a short dress.  sure, you can alter clothing (or make your own), but that’s expensive or requires time and effort, not to mention sewing ability. 

I’m short and fat. Petite clothes are too short but regular clothes are too long. I’m not even going to get into finding proper sizes. I get the dilemma of proper clothing, I do. But if I find something that is too long but fits, I take the time to hem. To hem a pair of jeans it might take an hour, a skirt will also take about an hour. There’s really no excuse to not do it. Basic hand-sewing skills are all that’s needed, how-to videos can be found online.

trippytriangles:

mausspace:

thatsnotwhathipposdo:

This was the outfit I wore to school today. I spent forever doing my hair, made an effort to actually wear makeup, wore jewelry, the whole nine yards, which I seriously never do. I wanted to get away from the normal t-shirt and jeans I usually wear so that I could take cute pictures with the Seniors on their way out of high school for the last time.
If you’ll notice, the front of the skirt is more than halfway down my thigh and I even had shorts on underneath. There’s no way anyone was seeing anything under this skirt.
At my school we have a “knee length” rule for all bottoms. I got through periods 1 through 4 with not even a comment from a teacher or administrator. All I got was compliments from many students, which made me feel awesome about myself.
In lunch, I go to the vending machine to get water. The second I turn around, there’s the Principal right in my face. “Hi there, your skirt is very pretty, but it’s way too short.”
“Well Mr.Crouch, I am pretty tall, and—“
“But that’s not what matters. I’m saying that if the sheer fabric wasn’t there, the part underneath wouldn’t be legal. So you’ve got two options, you can either go to ISS, or change into something appropriate. What do you want to do?”
“Um, well I think I might have something. I’ll change.”
“Okay, and come right back and show me what you’ve changed into.”
I knew I didn’t have anything to change into, because I’d worn this skirt before with no trouble.
I went back to my table to finish my lunch, and shortly after he approached me again.
“I thought you were going to go change?”
“I will, I just wanted to finish my lunch first.”
“Alright. And when you change, go show the front office to see if they approve.”
Now we’re standing at the door waiting to be released from lunch. Bear in mind, this will be 3 times he’s approached me in maybe a 10 minute time span.
“Are you going to change?”
“Yes, I just want to let my 5th period teacher know where I am.”
“What’s your first name again?”
“Emily.”
“And who’s your next teacher?”
“Mrs. Solburg.”
“Which one?”
“Drama.”
“Well I’ll let Mrs. Solburg know you’re going to be a few minutes late to class, alright?”
“Okay…”
So I went to class and let Mrs. Solburg know Mr. Crouch would be coming by soon because of my skirt and that I had no intentions of changing.
He walks in the classroom through the back entrance and says, apparently before scanning the room to see if I’m even in there, “Emily is going to be a few minutes late because she’s changing clothes. Oh, is she in here?”
Duh.
“Make sure you change.”
“Alright.”
He left, and I told my teacher that I didn’t have anything to change into. We looked in her closet and couldn’t find anything that normal people would wear that was both appropriate and matched what I was wearing. I told her to not worry about it, that I’d have my mom sign me out to go home.
When I hung up with my mom, here comes Mr. Crouch again. Mrs. Solburg tells him that I am signing out because I couldn’t find anything to change into.
“Oh, well she told me she had something to change into.”
“Mr. Crouch, I said that I might.”
“No, you said you had something.”
And he walked out.
Let’s count the things that were more wrong than my skirt, shall we?
1.      Him approaching me twice while I was trying to eat in our already short lunch time
2.      Him interrupting my theatre class twice just to tell me to change
3.      The fact he said my skirt wouldn’t be “legal” without the sheer fabric, and also, why would I wear the skirt without the outer fabric?! It’s the whole skirt!
4.      My friend Melissa had been trying to schedule a meeting with him since 2nd period to start up a donation drive for the suffering families in Oklahoma, and he was too busy following me around to help her
5.      So many Seniors were dressed way more inappropriately than me with tank tops and booty shorts
6.      I would have had to miss the Senior Walk even if I didn’t go home because I’d have been in ISS, so I didn’t get to say bye to all of my senior friends
7.      I had to disrupt my mom at work to sign me out
8.      I had to miss my last two classes when I had already been absent the previous day and needed to make up work
9.      He singled me out to the extreme, embarrassed me, and made me cry in front of my class
10.  My friend David wore shorts with a 5 inch inseam a few weeks ago and wasn’t even approached by an administrator. It was just shrugged off as him being a “silly boy”
11.  He didn’t even want to hear what I had to say about being tall (proportions, man. Put my skirt on any short girl and it would be fine. They don’t make cute skirts that are knee length on a 5’11” girl. It just doesn’t happen.), and he completely dismissed me when I said that I told him I *might* have a change of clothes, even though it was the truth
If he put just half as much effort as he did checking up on me every 5 minutes into, maybe, /running a school/, then everyone probably wouldn’t hate it so much.

also pretty fucking gross that he was paying that much attention to your legs
how scandalous, jesus christ

you should post his name and the school, don’t do him a favor by keeping him anonymous, he’s being a creep and you can probably get him in a ton of trouble if you tell this to the right person (his superiors perhaps) 



You knew of the policy beforehand, every school goes over this particular policy every year at least once. Don’t whine and cry because you weren’t able to get away with something you knew wasn’t allowed. Welcome to life my Millennial friend. You’ll learn to accept that the world does not and will not revolve around you or your skirt. By the way, if you are that tall, you need to learn to shop for clothing that fits properly.

trippytriangles:

mausspace:

thatsnotwhathipposdo:

This was the outfit I wore to school today. I spent forever doing my hair, made an effort to actually wear makeup, wore jewelry, the whole nine yards, which I seriously never do. I wanted to get away from the normal t-shirt and jeans I usually wear so that I could take cute pictures with the Seniors on their way out of high school for the last time.

If you’ll notice, the front of the skirt is more than halfway down my thigh and I even had shorts on underneath. There’s no way anyone was seeing anything under this skirt.

At my school we have a “knee length” rule for all bottoms. I got through periods 1 through 4 with not even a comment from a teacher or administrator. All I got was compliments from many students, which made me feel awesome about myself.

In lunch, I go to the vending machine to get water. The second I turn around, there’s the Principal right in my face. “Hi there, your skirt is very pretty, but it’s way too short.”

“Well Mr.Crouch, I am pretty tall, and—“

“But that’s not what matters. I’m saying that if the sheer fabric wasn’t there, the part underneath wouldn’t be legal. So you’ve got two options, you can either go to ISS, or change into something appropriate. What do you want to do?”

“Um, well I think I might have something. I’ll change.”

“Okay, and come right back and show me what you’ve changed into.”

I knew I didn’t have anything to change into, because I’d worn this skirt before with no trouble.

I went back to my table to finish my lunch, and shortly after he approached me again.

“I thought you were going to go change?”

“I will, I just wanted to finish my lunch first.”

“Alright. And when you change, go show the front office to see if they approve.”

Now we’re standing at the door waiting to be released from lunch. Bear in mind, this will be 3 times he’s approached me in maybe a 10 minute time span.

“Are you going to change?”

“Yes, I just want to let my 5th period teacher know where I am.”

“What’s your first name again?”

“Emily.”

“And who’s your next teacher?”

“Mrs. Solburg.”

“Which one?”

“Drama.”

“Well I’ll let Mrs. Solburg know you’re going to be a few minutes late to class, alright?”

“Okay…”

So I went to class and let Mrs. Solburg know Mr. Crouch would be coming by soon because of my skirt and that I had no intentions of changing.

He walks in the classroom through the back entrance and says, apparently before scanning the room to see if I’m even in there, “Emily is going to be a few minutes late because she’s changing clothes. Oh, is she in here?”

Duh.

“Make sure you change.”

“Alright.”

He left, and I told my teacher that I didn’t have anything to change into. We looked in her closet and couldn’t find anything that normal people would wear that was both appropriate and matched what I was wearing. I told her to not worry about it, that I’d have my mom sign me out to go home.

When I hung up with my mom, here comes Mr. Crouch again. Mrs. Solburg tells him that I am signing out because I couldn’t find anything to change into.

“Oh, well she told me she had something to change into.”

“Mr. Crouch, I said that I might.”

“No, you said you had something.”

And he walked out.

Let’s count the things that were more wrong than my skirt, shall we?

1.      Him approaching me twice while I was trying to eat in our already short lunch time

2.      Him interrupting my theatre class twice just to tell me to change

3.      The fact he said my skirt wouldn’t be “legal” without the sheer fabric, and also, why would I wear the skirt without the outer fabric?! It’s the whole skirt!

4.      My friend Melissa had been trying to schedule a meeting with him since 2nd period to start up a donation drive for the suffering families in Oklahoma, and he was too busy following me around to help her

5.      So many Seniors were dressed way more inappropriately than me with tank tops and booty shorts

6.      I would have had to miss the Senior Walk even if I didn’t go home because I’d have been in ISS, so I didn’t get to say bye to all of my senior friends

7.      I had to disrupt my mom at work to sign me out

8.      I had to miss my last two classes when I had already been absent the previous day and needed to make up work

9.      He singled me out to the extreme, embarrassed me, and made me cry in front of my class

10.  My friend David wore shorts with a 5 inch inseam a few weeks ago and wasn’t even approached by an administrator. It was just shrugged off as him being a “silly boy”

11.  He didn’t even want to hear what I had to say about being tall (proportions, man. Put my skirt on any short girl and it would be fine. They don’t make cute skirts that are knee length on a 5’11” girl. It just doesn’t happen.), and he completely dismissed me when I said that I told him I *might* have a change of clothes, even though it was the truth

If he put just half as much effort as he did checking up on me every 5 minutes into, maybe, /running a school/, then everyone probably wouldn’t hate it so much.

also pretty fucking gross that he was paying that much attention to your legs

how scandalous, jesus christ

you should post his name and the school, don’t do him a favor by keeping him anonymous, he’s being a creep and you can probably get him in a ton of trouble if you tell this to the right person (his superiors perhaps) 

You knew of the policy beforehand, every school goes over this particular policy every year at least once. Don’t whine and cry because you weren’t able to get away with something you knew wasn’t allowed. Welcome to life my Millennial friend. You’ll learn to accept that the world does not and will not revolve around you or your skirt. By the way, if you are that tall, you need to learn to shop for clothing that fits properly.
 - Log 4: NONONONONONONO
123 plays

ninathestripedhyena:

kibou-no-koe:

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a288/Ran_Ohki/anonny_zpsa9e5bf9d.png

((NONE SHALL MENTION SHE-WHOM-THE-MUN-KEEPS-GUSHING-OVER-EVERY-FIVE-SECONDS. EVER. 8U))

BELLS I LOVE YOU

My brother’s cat says NONONONONO before he vomits on the couch.

I watch the older butches. They have perfectly shined shoes and crisply ironed dress shirts; ties that point politely down, slung around necks I want to carefully touch; thick belts and square edges and hair that looks like it’s been freshly cut at all times; change in a loose jangle at the bottom of pockets calling out an insistent rattle as they walk by; neatly clipped nails on hands that are forever ready to hold open the door. Their postures are straight and stiff, except for the ones who stoop their shoulders to hide their softness.


The butches are always quietly determined to get the drinks. I watch their calm circle to the bar and back, nobly presenting cocktails to femmes who take them like prizes. At the end of the night, I see them hold up coats with outstretched arms for their tired femmes, hail cabs with one authoritative arm reaching for the stars, the other wrapped lightly around their girl’s waist. They make everything look charmed and easy—rolling coins across the table with a silver flash; arm-wrestling with their sleeves rolled up as my eyes hungrily lock on their tensed forearms; swinging Zippo lighters open before I’ve even contemplated having a cigarette. I crave their softness, how gentle they can me in touch and gesture; I love their hardness, all of the sharp lines and angles I want to feel the pinch of and press myself against. They wear their difference out there every day in a mostly hostile world. They take refuge in approving nods of other butches, in welcoming smiles of the femmes at the bar. When they are here, they are home. When they are here, there is nowhere else.

Debra Anderson,
"Spotlight"  (via femmeanddangerous)

Bieber: “Come on. Don’t tell me you don’t miss this.”

Gomez: “Why r u sending these to me. We r done. And how can u let [Lil Za] take the fall or your actions? U need to grow the f*ck up. I hope you get jail time. U deserve it at this point.”

This Vulgar Text Message Exchange In Which Selena Gomez Rejects Justin Bieber’s Advances Is EVERYTHING

(via uproxx)

My four year old niece silk be happy that he isn’t with Ms. Gomez any longer. But how do I describe an addiction to sizurp to a four year old?

gynocieum:

LUCY LIU IS COVERED IN PUPPIES

littlelimpstiff14u2:

The amazing stained glass work of

Judith Schaechter

Judith Schaechter is a Philadelphia-based artist known for her work in the medium of stained glass. Her pieces often exhibit elements of parable, and her distorted faces and figures, along with her own self-professed atheism ironically clash with her medium’s religious tradition.

http://www.judithschaechter.com/Home.html

youmightfindyourself:

By: Sara Eckel
NY Times, January 2, 2014

When my then-boyfriend Mark lost the lease on his Brooklyn apartment, moving in together made good sense. We were in our 40s, both battle-scarred from decades of romantic unhappiness, and had finally found the relationship we had longed for our entire lives. So even though the timing was bad (we had been dating for only six months), we knew where this was headed. Why wait?

“I’m ready to take it to the next level,” said Mark, while cooking chicken paprikash in his soon-to-expire apartment.

I watched this sweet, handsome man sauté onions, and my heart turned upside down. After two decades of dating guys who could barely commit to next week, here was a wonderful man who wanted to be with me, plain and simple.

I was thrilled — and terrified. Sure, Mark and I were having a glorious time: weekends picking apples in the Pennsylvania countryside, brunches at his favorite Mexican diner. But living together was different. Or at least I thought it would be. I couldn’t know for sure. Because, to my deep embarrassment, I was nearly 40 and had never shared a home with a boyfriend.

For most of my adult life, I was unattached. I spent my 30s with a slowly escalating fear that I would never find a partner. My anxiety wasn’t merely about getting older and supposedly less desirable in our youth-obsessed culture. I also worried that my single years were shaping me, hardening me into a woman too finicky and insular for a lifetime partnership.

I had noticed that friends going through breakups often took solace in the fact that they had learned from those failed romances. They had acquired important skills such as how to be vulnerable, how to set boundaries, how to listen and how to speak up. They had learned the art of compromise and forgiveness and how to love someone even when you don’t always like them. Through practice and repetition, they were mastering this exquisite, complicated dance, cultivating wisdom and muscle memory that could be successfully applied to future relationships.

I was glad my friends had found an upside to their heartache, but statements like those also made me nervous. If one learned how to have a happy partnership by trial and error, then I was missing crucial on-the-job training.

Even so, when it came to the particular question of whether Mark and I should move in together, I knew my concerns were valid. “It’s too soon, and for the wrong reason,” I told my friend Paul at a bar one night.

He shook his head, looked at the ceiling and said, “No wonder you’re single.”

I stared at the bar, furious. How dare he take my very reasonable reservation and turn it into a pathology! Soon we were having the kind of bitter argument that makes other patrons glance your way with wide, curious eyes.

Once we had cooled down, I explained how hard it is to be a longtime singleton, how people assume some deep psychological issue is preventing you from finding a partner, rather than allow that maybe you just haven’t met the right person.

Paul listened, apologized and we ordered another round.

Later, I thought about it. Paul may have been unfair, but he also wouldn’t have upset me if part of me didn’t think he was right.

So I took the leap: I asked Mark to move in with me. If I was truly an intractable spinster, I might as well find out now.

Mark said yes, and on a sunny May morning six weeks later, he moved into my small one-bedroom apartment. I sat on my — our — bed and watched him hang his clothes in the closet I had just cleared, feeling like someone who had talked her way into a job she wasn’t quite qualified for. I didn’t know what was ahead, only that it would be difficult, but worth it.

That was nearly eight years ago. I’m still waiting for the part where it gets hard, still waiting for the “work.”

O.K., that’s not completely true. Like anyone, we have conflicts. He has punched walls. I have walked out the front door and circled the block. But I can count those kinds of fights on one hand.

Mostly, I have been shocked to discover how easy it is to live with and, now, be married to Mark.

My husband and I didn’t calcify as we grew older. Instead, as I believe most people do, we became less selfish and more patient, quicker to admit when we’re wrong, more apt to notice when the other person needs some space. I understand, in a way I never could have in my 20s, that sometimes the best way to resolve a conflict is to go in the other room and read a magazine for a while.

And there’s nothing like two decades of loneliness to make you appreciate a spouse. Sure, we annoy each other sometimes. Mark has lost countless hours of his life waiting for me to find my keys, and I will never agree that it’s O.K. to use dish towels to mop up spills on the floor.

But Mark also makes me laugh every day, has fascinating insights about everything from 1970s cop shows to campaign finance reform, and he gives me his unwavering support whenever an editor rejects my work or an acquaintance treats me shabbily. Compare this with the stresses of longtime singlehood — the bad dates, the condescending relatives, the Sunday nights — and you can deal with a few stained dish towels.

If you have lived alone for two decades, it also means you can’t subconsciously (or directly) blame your partner if your professional or creative life hasn’t worked out as well as you had hoped. Whatever career and financial mistakes I’ve made (and there have been some doozies) are mine and mine alone. When you meet your partner at 40, there’s no mental backtracking: “I could have been a senior V.P. by now if we hadn’t moved to Tucson for his job,” or “I could have been a rock star if I hadn’t had to cover everyone’s health insurance.”

Most important, I’ve realized I never needed a long boyfriend résumé for the experience. In the 20 years before I met Mark, I learned a lot of hard lessons: how to be a self-respecting adult in a world that often treats single people like feckless teenagers; how to stand at cocktail parties while my friends’ in-laws asked me if I had a boyfriend; how to have warm, friendly dinners with strangers I had met online, as we delicately tried to determine whether or not we could possibly share our lives together, and how to come home to an empty apartment after a rotten day at work.

I realize these less-than-giddy examples may conjure up those deadly words: “desperate” and “pathetic.” But I wasn’t desperate. If I had been desperate, I would have settled for a relationship I felt ambivalent about because I was afraid to be alone. Instead, I learned to relax into the open space of my quiet home and unknown future. I also learned there is a difference between feeling something unpleasant (loneliness, longing) and being something shameful.

Being a single person searching for love teaches you that not everything is under your control. You can’t control whether the person you’ve fallen for will call. You can’t force yourself to have feelings for the nice guy your best friend fixed you up with. You have no way to know whether attending this or that event — a co-worker’s art opening, a neighbor’s housewarming — will lead to the chance encounter that will forever alter your life. You simply learn to do your best, and leave it at that.

Relationships are work, but so is being single, and I became pretty good at it.

Even though Mark and I don’t fight much, several years ago we had one that made me wonder if this was the end. It began as an innocuous argument over vacation time, or lack thereof, but it somehow unleashed long-brewing resentments that escalated and culminated into two harsh, staccato syllables. It felt like a car crash: plunging into darkness, time stopping. I sat up straight on our bed, heart thumping, wondering if the life we had built together was going to come tumbling down.

In that moment, the future was vast, black, unknowable. But I wasn’t afraid. Splitting up would be awful, but I would manage.

I didn’t panic or try to make the moment any different from what it was. I simply sat in that untethered space, two angry people not speaking to each other, without any knowledge of what was on the other side.

After a time, it could have been minutes or hours, Mark took my hand and squeezed, and I squeezed back. We would get through this one, and most likely others. I didn’t have relationship experience, but I had life experience of another kind. That has turned out to be just as good.

Always reblog.

Always reblog.

sherlockholnes:

bunnehvantas:

THIS IS VERY, VERY IMPORTANT.

Today, the second of january, I found these small green arrows all over tumblr and other websites.

It doesn’t just affect links, it affects normal words in texts as well, and if you click on them, it redirects it to an advertisement. Seems harmless.

The first and second picture is examples of the links, arrows and the advertisements, the third picture is of a program I found installed on my computer.

It probably happened when I browsed around streams yesterday trying to watch Sherlock Series 3 (which was lovely, by the way.) and a lot of advertisement windows opened. I closed them immediately.

When I launched my browser today I got a similar advertisement, but again, I closed it immediately without looking at it.

I run avast antivirus on my computer. It’s always up to date and up until now, I’ve never had a virus. It always stops me on the actual site, if it contains a trojan or anything. I can’t do anything unsafe.

This means, the virus is brand new.

If avast doesn’t pick it up, and avast is upgraded multiple times a day, it’s kind of serious.

That’s why I’m telling you,

SIGNAL BOOST THIS.

If you have seen this before or it’s happened to you, please signal boost the crap out of it.

Signal boost it anyway.

Run a full scan on your computer, search for malware och spyware as well.

THIS IS SERIOUS.

I had the exact same problem and I figured out how to remove it.

You need to:

  1. Go into the chrome customize and control menu > tools > extensions.
  2. Tick the developer mode option.
  3. BEFORE you remove the malware ‘extension’, you need to copy the location of the file on your computer which should start with    ' C:/ '  
  4. Go to your documents and paste the code in the top bar, not the search.
  5. When you have located the file, you need to delete it and empty the recycle bin. MAKE SURE YOU DELETE THE WHOLE FILE NOT JUST THE APPLICATION.
  6. Now, go back to chrome and click the bin to remove the extension.
  7. You’re done!

Trying to remove the extension will not work. You need to delete the root file.

It took me a while to figure this out and it made my laptop really slow! Please signal boost this so people can learn how to remove the malware. Thank you.