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The Bryan Brothers Band feat Novak Djokovic & Andy Murray - Autograph
THIS IS THE BEST SONG OF THE DECADE.
Here comes a bitter fucking tirade.
Love is just a fucking word. And people throw it around like they mean it, but they don’t. They just know what it does. Love is that thing that people use to keep you around. As some way of insuring they’re not left alone, or something. Everyone wants to hear it, so people fucking say it. Love is what another person tells you they have for you to get what they want. It’s how they get you. It is what they use to sway you. Love is how they blind you, it’s the chloroform on the cloth that they suffocate you with. It’s just a fucking word. Say it, it doesn’t mean anything. I love you. I love you. I love you. What the fuck ever. I love pizza more.
And you know that whole “don’t frown cause it’s over, smile cause it happened” bullshit line of thinking? I don’t like it. Because once realizing that I was in love with a self-centered asshole for the past two years, I’m not smiling cause it fucking happened. I’m frowning cause it happened. I’m smiling cause I’m glad it’s over now, but I’m pissed the fuck off about it. And I don’t know if I’m more pissed cause it happened, or that it took me two goddamn years to realize it.
I really need this answered, ct. My friend’s been in a really destructive relationship for the past 3 years. Controlling, possessive, jealous freak, unreasonable, hits her, slaps her, you name it. But she still loves him, cliche i know. how the fuck do i convince her to leave him? last straw happened when he hit her last night for hanging out with me and my friends. wtf. any advice would be appreciated. thanks a ton.
There is no easy answer here, because almost any active decision you make could easily lead to the destruction of your friendship.
I’ve been around this situation more than once, and as much as it’s clear who the victim is, it never ceases to amaze me how the cycle of violence requires the will of both people in the abusive relationship.
Your friend has been with this asshole for three years. Victim or not, she’s entrenched in what she thinks is love. You can’t fuck with that, not without risking your friendship.
I’m not suggesting you don’t try. Just know what you’re getting into. It may become an ultimatum situation. This isn’t you saying, “you should really break up with that asshole.” This is you saying, “you have to break up with that asshole, or our friendship is over.”
Are you willing to do that? And if so, are you really capable of following through? I’m not suggesting you start tossing out ultimatums either, but you need to be prepared for serious consequences within your friendship before taking action.
If you’re sure that you want to do something, go big. Don’t half-ass it over coffee. Do a full on, balls-to-the-wall style intervention. Do some research. Start here.
Find a domestic violence intervention program in your area and ask them for help.
If an intervention seems like too much drama, then there’s little you can do except tell her how you feel and make sure she knows you’re there for her.
It’s a tough call — get all up in your friend’s shit, or stand idly by and watch her get slapped around. It’s real “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” kind of stuff.
Best of luck.
Calculus Exam of the Day: Professor Pokémon over here.
(with apologies to Professor Gabe for co-opting his bit.)
[via.]
Toast wheat bread. Find some raunchy peanut butter. (You know peanut butter’s raunchy when, while scooping it, you’re compelled to say “Man, that’s raunchy” to the kitchen.) Get some jelly, it doesn’t matter how good. Put the peanut butter on one slice. Put the jelly on the other. Lie down. Eat. Use no napkins. Repeat with more jelly if needed.
TwoPut a set of clothes in the dryer. Take a salted bath. When your skin feels luscious, walk to the dryer in the nude and take out your clothes. Dry yourself. Wear your hot clothes. Think a little bit about the effort that went into giving you a building with an electric dryer, but not too much. Wear your hot clothes.
ThreeLeave your home at dawn with nothing but a backpack full of blankets. Walk. Walk for many miles. Walk until you get to Philadelphia. Find me. Tell me, “I tried everything else and none of it made me happy.” Tell me, “I hate my job and sometimes people say hurtful things and I don’t know if he or she is the right one.” I will give you a hug and everything will be better. You will never see me again because I have filed a restraining order, but that is all right. One hug is enough.
NEVER FORGET
I’m sure we can do better!
Clearly I’ve got nothing. Any other ideas?
Considering how much I write about photographs, it’s a good thing I’ll be studying it soon.
Everyone knows this photograph, taken during the Vietnam war by Ronald N. Timberlake. It captures the brutality of war, as well as spurring the anti-war movement. There is a sense of urgency and fear. The childrens faces are twisted in unimaginable pain as we see the iconic napalm girls skin burn from a distance. Everyone is heading in the same direction, as if escaping from some horrible entity. All the soldiers in the photograph are following them, heading in the same direction.
But did you know that this famous photograph is cropped? In the original image, on the right, a soldier is walking casually with a camera in his hand observing the wreckage. He is heading in the opposite direction to everyone else.
I’m sure there are more extreme examples of this, but what I’m trying to say is this: How can you trust a photograph? Everyone relies on a photograph to be truthful. Back when it started people thought photographs took a part of your soul. If you had your photograph taken too many times, you would die. Photographs were so truthful, apparently, that they took something from the real subject.
Just because the ‘magic’ of Adobe Photoshop is recent, it doesn’t mean that every photo before Photoshop was entirely honest. Besides, you’re seeing what the photographer saw through their lens, whether it be an honest capture or an attempt at deceit. The truth is right in front of you but it’s only the truth of, perhaps, 1/60th of a second. Or, in the case of this napalm girl photograph, 1/500th of a second. The longest ‘truth’ I’ve taken has been five seconds long, and by that time it was just a mess of ineligible light.
It’s clear why Timberlake cropped the image. Everyone has a motive. Everyone wants you to believe a certain thing. Every myspace picture is taken and with the motive of making the photographer look slimmer than they actually are. Every paparazzi photograph of a female celebrity is taken with the motive of showing how much cellulite she has on her thighs or, on the other side of the spectrum, how hot she’s looking at forty-two. Every quick happy snap on a holiday has the intention of showing how much fun everyone’s having. Why does this photograph but not that get chosen for the newspaper, or a Facebook album?
It’s not like it’s only one photograph every few days is taken of a politician, celebrity or whatever. What isn’t being shown? And, more importantly, are the omissions simply getting rid of unneeded distractions for the viewer, or are they pointing towards a certain viewpoint? As if to say “Look here! This is the truth- I have photographs to prove it,”
Just food for thought!
I am quite aware that I haven’t talked to him in a while. It’s not like I like it or anything, you know.
