Kate

yahoochrome:

this is the saddest fucking thing i have ever seen

yahoochrome:

this is the saddest fucking thing i have ever seen

(via booche)

“I’m not worried about little girls wanting to pretend they’re princesses—after all, they’re just in it for the dress-up aspect. The princesses I’m worried about are twenty-two, thirty-two, and forty-two—women who act fragile in order to be rescued at any age. I’m not anti feminine… I don’t feel belittled pouring your drink, ironing the clothes, or walking through the door that’s held for me. But I was taught to take charge when appropriate, and to speak passionately and intelligently. I was taught to expect men to respect me for my mind and my convictions—not for my ability to stroke their fragile ego by playing helpless. I was not raised to play cute, to play dumb, or to play the part of a damsel in distress. I learned to work hard, to develop my skills, to contribute in society, so it drives me crazy when women only depend on sexuality or their fragility. I think there’s a better way. If you’re a woman who gets by with batting your eyelashes, faking incompetence, using your push-up bra, and then complain that you’re not taken seriously in your career or given responsibility in your church, I think you may have believed the reigning cultural lie about what makes us attractive. And if you’re a man and you celebrate femininity only as far as it presence itself through beauty and tenderness, please consider widening your view of what it means to be a woman. Instead, consider things like strength, intelligence, passion, and compassion. Let’s set a new example for young women who are watching us closely. Let’s teach them by example to be women who work hard, who pay attention to their dreams, who give themselves to making the world a better place.”

—   "Bittersweet" by Shauna Niequist (via yesdarlingido)

(via quiet-spirit)

triax17:

bouncer: i’m sorry i can’t let you in

me: how about you have a little talk with my friend ;)

image

(via classholes)

“You think I don’t give a shit about you because I can’t remember your name. You’re sure I don’t care about you because I can’t seem to remember your birthday, and I keep telling you the same things over and over and over again because I’ve forgotten I already told you. You think I don’t give a fuck because the things you tell me about your day just seem to spin right out of my brain. But there are things I remember, things I can’t tell you, things that don’t translate into words. I remember the way you talked when you got excited, how you interrupted yourself mid-sentence because something about your first sentence excited you more, and three words into that sentence you interrupted yourself again, and I remember how you’d get endearingly embarrassed because you thought I was laughing at you. I remember how you did your damndest to never let your feelings show. I remember how you kept your voice level when you were spitting mad and your eyes cold when you spoke about heartbreak. And I remember catching you listening to someone else’s story, and those dead black of eyes of yours just exploding with compassion and hurt and that kindness you tried so fucking hard to hide. I can’t remember your middle name or your favorite color, but your smile is burned into my fucking brain. I remember the look on your face when you come, and though I can’t remember what color your eyes are, fuck, I remember losing myself in them. I don’t remember the things you said to me that morning, but I’ll never forget the way you looked at me like you knew you were never going to see me again. I remember that last kiss at the train station, and I remember seeing you across the platform through the train window, both of us straining for one last look. So fuck your name and your birthday - I remember you.”

—   (via orlansky)

Undressing Modesty

corycopeland:

Undressing Modesty | Lindsey Weber stares down the modesty debate

I never really thought I had a problem with modesty until after college when, just a half hour before I was going onstage to lead worship, a female assistant to one of the staffers at the church pulled me…

(via mdawgwatson)

(Source: rodack, via rip-homegirl)

tympanista:

*comes to meet you at Starbucks 15 minutes late with Starbucks from another location*

(via classholes)

drinkmehalfway:

Austin Texas

(Source: miketalladen, via quiet-spirit)