Past few weeks show that I’ve already gone past the stage of being “not helpful”, and am now actively adding to stress by the act of being there, and sharing the same space – and my caring seems like the central culprit.
The only way I can change is by stopping to care, and I’m afraid of where this will take me, and where it will take us, but it seems like every other way that I tried only made it worse.
All that I want is to be able to sit in a quiet and still place and read a book.
A really simple rule that proves right again and again: if someone speaks of other people in numeric (1-10) terms, they will invariably prove themselves unworthy of any respect in other ways.
Everything that is ephemeral wants to last.
The Minotaur or The Stop in Oran | Albert Camus (via austentatious)
You all realize that from now on Trumpists are going to add harassment, both sadly-real and madeup-and-paid-for, to their bag of dirty tricks to bring down every progressive candidate they find dangerous, in 2018 and 2020, right?
It will not be hard to find women they could pay a small (by political-campaign standards but life-changing for the rest of us) amount who would bring 10-years-ago harassment charges, dismissed under scrutiny, of course, but nicely accomplishing the goal of creating ambiguity, shifting narrative and creating doubts about any candidate they don’t like.
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.
tinfoilparachute 