To the extent that Trump’s message moves on to unfamiliar turf for a Republican, it’s because his base is that portion of the white working class that is immune to the call of evangelical religion or secular tolerance. On Monday night, Trump, like a good right-wing radio thug, prompted his adherents to new depths of depravity: Mocking Ted Cruz’s less than enthusiastic views on waterboarding in Saturday night’s debate, Trump heard someone in the crowd assembled right beneath the podium yell out, “Cruz is a pussy!” He proceeded to entertain the crowd with musings on the topic. Well, some of the crowd. After the event, I talked to some Cruz and John Kasich supporters who’d been in attendance; they were not amused. I’d be surprised if Trump ever surpasses more than 35 percent of the Republican primary vote in a non-Southern state. But if the candidate field doesn’t shrink any time soon, 35 percent may be enough to secure the nomination. What is at stake is this: While Bernie Sanders seeks a politically-engaged citizenry, what Donald Trump seeks is a mob.
A year ago, I created a fandom blog with the url “aromantic[character name]. Along with other fandom-related content, I discussed aromanticism in the context of the source material, wrote and discussed aromantic headcanons, and hosted art and writing that interpreted characters from that fandom as aromantic. I also, for a time, fielded a large number of asks both on and off anon about aromanticism unrelated to fandom, and helped questioning tumblr users learn about labels and concepts relevant to the aro community.
A few months ago, as a result of deep ambivalence about my own identity as aromantic, and about the ethics of claiming that this wlw character was aromantic, I changed the url of the blog and made a post explaining my reasoning. I still felt bad about no longer creating aromantic-positive content, but I believed that this was the best way for me to continue to enjoy blogging without feeling as if I was deceiving others and myself by continuing to claim aromanticism.
I was wrong.
Immediately after changing my url, I got an anon talking about how excited they were that I was aromantic and how much it meant to them. About a week later, I got an anon asking me if I had any aro headcanons about a specific character. Today, a user not on anon messaged me to tell me how exciting it was to find my blog and realize that there was someone in that fandom who was aromantic like they were.
Once upon a time, it would have made me so happy to hear those things. Around six months ago, when I was regularly using Skype and tumblr messaging to counsel other users who were trying to decide if they wanted to call themselves aromantic, messages about how much I meant to people would have filled me with warm fuzziness. My identity was public back then, and I wanted to help, and I loved that I was helping.
But I don’t want to help anymore. Or more specifically, I can’t help. My aromantic identity isn’t the rock it used to be. These days it’s more of a geographical area on a map that I’m not sure I’m even using anymore. I can’t give solid advice without suppressing the very loud part of me that is now doubtful of identities being presented as static, essential truths, and I don’t particularly want to either. I’m happy to keep supporting my aromantic friends and the aro students in the club I founded at my school, but I can’t be everyone’s symbol of representation, everyone’s shoulder to cry on, everyone’s wise source of aro advice.
And I don’t think any of the users messaging me realize how guilty I feel receiving those messages or want to make me uncomfortable, but I do feel really fucking guilty seeing them! I feel like I was lying to them then, like I’m letting them down now. I feel guilty, and then angry at them for making me feel guilty for expressing how I feel, and then guilty again for daring to think that they’re doing anything wrong when they’re just looking for reassurance and positivity.
And I have to wonder how much of this results from this community model of aromanticism and asexuality, where we imagine that we can help and support each other through the representation our own bodies provide, where we push ourselves to be out and educating because if I had known a real ace or aro person when i was 12, I would have been so much more happy and secure. It’s a valid model of education, certainly, and over the 2+ years I was out as ace and the 1.5 years I was out as aro, I know I helped people understand stuff and be more accepting, but it took its toll, and most of all it eroded the supposedly sacrosanct idea that identity is a personal thing and only you can decide your own identity.
My aromanticism was, and always has been, mine. It was something I was willing to extend to other people who wanted to benefit from it, but fundamentally my identity belonged to me, not to the people taking comfort from it. I do not owe anyone my continued existence as some kind of aromantic beacon; I do not owe anyone my continued support as a knowledgeable aromantic.
Graham backtracked to Northwind Field, this time taking Merry along with him; he hoped to make amends with Suicune. Two electric types would prove to be powerful in a water dungeon, and he also knew he’d have to prove himself to Suicune once more before accomplishing his goal.
After sending the third teammate who helped them over back, they made their way in. The dungeon was a breeze, Graham noticed; there was the occasional non-water type, but they were still defeated by the duo. However, once they got to floor twenty-eight, something weird happened.
One of the feral Pokemon, Absol, was fighting another of the same species. The one taking the blow, while looking almost the exact same, was a couple shades darker. Another feral, this time a Golduck, approached, and when the darker Absol glanced over, they smirked and then started to glow white. Though it was hard to see through the light, Merry noticed that the Absol was changing shape.
After the light faded, they were revealed to now be in the shape of the Golduck, and again, just a couple shades darker. The Absol-now-Golduck looked at their first, then used Ice Punch on both the ferals, knocking them out after a couple of blows.
“Sorry about that,” the doppelgänger turned and said to the rescue team. A female. “I’ll be going now."
"Wait, miss. Could you maybe explain what you just did?” Merry asked.
“Hmm. No, I’d rather keep you in the shadows,” she said simply. “I don’t open up to just anyone about that,” she also commented before she started to walk off. However, Graham stopped her.
“Would you maybe like to join our team? Having a shapeshifter would be so cool…"
”…You know what? Sure. I’ll join you. Gonna take awhile to get my species out of me, though.“
Why does no one remember what a poor sport Peyton Manning was when he lost?
That’s a rhetorical question. We already know.
In Super Bowl 44, Peyton Manning left the field with time still on the clock because he was so disgusted at his team’s loss. General tone of the reactions from the press and public:
Yahoo Sports’ Chris Chase – “Peyton Manning didn’t shake hands with New Orleans Saints players after his Indianapolis Colts lost 31-17 in Super Bowl XLIV. Apparently some think this is a sign of poor sportsmanship from the NFL’s greatest player. It’s not.
Walking off the field without congratulating Drew Brees may go against our misguided notion of what sportsmanship should be, but it wasn’t at all disrespectful or bitter. It shows how much Peyton Manning wanted to win the game. And who can argue about that?”
In Super Bowl 50, Cam Newton congratulated Peyton Manning on the field after the game, but walked out of a press conference. General tone of the reactions from the press and public:
Glen Beck – "Cam has obviously not learned how to lose with grace. I wish I could show my children how to behave after a loss but unfortunately I can’t.This is not the behavior of someone who lost the game. This is the behavior of a loser.”
“These mix-ups are common because biologists in the field often lack the time or expertise to go over everything they grab. They collect first and ask questions later. Vast hoards of specimens end up in natural history museums, overwhelming the dwindling population of taxonomists who could potentially classify them. According to one study, the average specimen languishes for 21 years before it’s formally described; one poor neglected pit viper waited for 206 years.
This means that many “new” species are already sitting in jars and shelves, gathering dust while they await “discovery.” Charles Darwin, Alfred Russel Wallace, Alexander von Humboldt and other legendary naturalists of yesteryear catalogued life’s grand diversity by hopping across continents and islands, but their modern counterparts can make similar discoveries by criss-crossing the world’s museums—for there be dragons. “It’s almost quaint that that’s how it’s still done,” says Helgen.”
And in another photo, he saw with heart wrenching clarity the stray birthmarks that his lips had numbered countless times, upon her arms and torso. Secret little marks that he had memorized, and loved as much as he loved her—for they were his to treasure, as much as her gentle, loving caresses in the dark of night, or the throaty moans she gave over to him when he made her come.
Each photograph, in turn, felt like a punch to his gut. And each one made him pine to have her near, to tell him they meant nothing; that had she only known he awaited in her future, they never would have come to be at all. Most of all, he wanted to have her in his arms, and feel her whisper against his skin that she loved him, and only him; ever more, and only him.
“Thermocline (version 2)” I posted the same description that’s on the previous photo, but I’ve changed the numbers, since the other version has 200 more photos than this one.“A thermocline (sometimes metalimnion in lakes) is a thin but distinct layer in a large body of fluid (e.g. water, such as an ocean or lake, or air, such as an atmosphere) in which temperature changes more rapidly with depth than it does in the layers above or below.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thermocline I was taught about this when learning to scuba dive. The strong warm/cool split of this image made me think of it. And then my mind wandered to how strange it is that I can dig up this tiny tidbit of information I heard years ago (and haven’t thought much since then) but I can’t remember where I put my keys two minutes ago, or the chords to that song I wrote the other day. I think our brains could use a less destructive encryption method and more hard drive space. Hurry up Science, my clock is ticking! I made this image from 348 photos. I stacked the first 228 using the ultra streaks present in this script, advancedstacker.com and the last 320 photos were stacked “normally” with the lighten layer blending mode. (also automated with the advanced stacker script)
scene: Spencer and Caleb kiss. Emily dumps out her wine. Hanna looks through old photos. Aria writes Ezra’s book for him. They each receive a text. A goes through Charlotte’s things and throws away the black hoodie and gloves. “You know who did it and I’m going to make you talk.”