it’s not about that i know how to do laundry. it’s that when i was four i knew how to fold clothes; small hands working alongside my mother, while my older brother sat and played with his toys. it’s that i know what kind of detergent works but my father guesses. it’s that in my freshman year of college i had a line of boys who needed me to show them how to use the machine. it’s that the first door they knocked on belonged to me. it’s that they expected me to know.
it’s not that i know how to cook. it’s that the biggest christmas present i got was a little plastic kitchenette i never used except to climb on. it’s that my brother used it more, his hands ghosting over pink buttons and yellow dials. it’s that when my work needs cake for a birthday, they turn to me. i get it from costco. i don’t even like cooking. a boy burns popcorn in the dorm microwave and laughs. a week later, i do the same thing, and he snorts at me, “just crossed you off my wife list.” it’s that i had heard something like this so many times before that i laughed, too.
it’s not that i don’t love being feminine. it’s that i came home with bruises from trying to be a trick rider on my bike and heard the word “tomboy,” felt my little mouth say, “but i’m not a boy, i’m a girl”. it’s that they laughed. it’s that until i was sitting in my pretty dress and smiling with a big pretty smile and blinking my big pretty eyes, i wasn’t given back the title “girl”. it’s that until i wore makeup and styled my hair i was bullied; it’s that when i don’t wear makeup i’m a slob, that my mental health diagnosis hangs on the hook of being dressed up. it’s that my therapist sees me returning to bright red lipstick and tells me i am looking happier and i have to explain that i am more sad than i have ever been. it’s that i dress myself in as many layers as i can every time i ride a train because it’s better to be laughed at than harassed.
it’s not that i know how to clean, it’s that my brother’s chores were outside where i wanted to be, and mine were inside. it’s that i would have weeded the garden better than he did if they had just let me. it’s that i am put in charge of fixing other’s messes, expected to comply without complaint.
it’s not that i can’t open the jar. it’s that you ask my brother first every time. it’s that i am pushed into docile positions, trained to believe that my body when it’s strong and healthy is ugly, trained into being less, weaker. it’s that the jar is also science, is also engineering, is also every job, every opportunity. it’s that you laugh faster when he tells a joke, that you take him seriously but wave off me, that when he raises his voice he’s assertive but when i do i’m hysterical. the jar is getting into a car with a stranger as a driver and wondering if this is our last ride. the jar is knowing that if something happens to us, it’s our fault.
it’s that i’m weak and i don’t know if it’s because i just am or i was trained to be. it’s that we need to sit pretty with our pretty smiles and our pretty words trapped pretty and silent in our throats, our hands restless but pretty when idle, our bodies vessels for nothing but a future white dress. it’s that we are taught someone else needs to open the jar for us.
here’s the secret: run metal lids under hot water, they’ll expand faster than the glass they’re around. here’s the secret: when you keep us under hot water, we do more than boil. we expand over our edges. and we learn how to open our mouths, our claws, our screams hanging in kites over cities. just give me a chance. give me a chance when i am four when i am seven when i am twenty-three. i promise i can be amazing. give me the jar. i’ll show you something.
Pasta is great. It’s like hey, let me take delicious things like butter,or meat, or tomatoes or basil and then let me just fuckin mix whatever the fuck i want in and combine it with some random ass noodles.
That’s basically pasta.
BUT, there’s a big difference between “basically pasta” and “holy shit food of the gods” pasta, and that is that the latter has some rules that must be followed.
10 PASTA COMMANDMENTS COMIN UP:
Always boil pasta in boiling SALTED water. Ever had a dish where you forgot to salt it before cooking it, and no matter how much seasoning you did post saute/sear, it still sort of tasted bland on the inside? Same goes for pasta. Your sauce could be fuckin on point, but if you don’t salt dat pasta water, ya fugged, bruh.
Always have your sauce ready BEFORE the pasta. Pestos, emulsified butter sauces, bolognese sauces, they should be in their respective sauce pans, heated and ready to go (unless we’re takin pesto or carbonarashit, as those go bad with heat). The worst thing you could do is fuck up and overcook your delicious pasta bc you were too busy making or finishing up your sauce.
Always TASTE your pasta. I don’t care if the package says it’s ready in 1 minute or an hour, taste your pasta from the boiling water at least 2 minutes in, and every 2 minutes after that. Al dente’s usually the way to go, but you’ll never know when to take it out if you’re not constantly tasting.
DO NOT strain your pasta, wasting your pasta water and allowing your pasta to cool. Use tongs to take pasta straight up form the boiling water (don’t dry it, nerds) and throw it in your sauce. A little pasta water gets in? no probs, and I’ll tell you why.
If your sauce is reducing too much, or it’s too tight, add pasta water. It’s salted and hot and ready to go, it won’t dilute the flavor at all, you’re golden duude. golden.
Finish your pasta in the sauce, allow it to become homogenous, let the sauce stick to the pasta, BECOME ONE WITH THE PASTA BRUH.
Add cheese last, because cheese get’s weird and fucked up in hot pans, so it’s best to throw that on right before you’re ready to eat that shit up.
4 oz is a normal serving size for pasta. If you don’t have a scale, that’s basically like the first pic above. If you hold the pasta like such, and the width of the bunch is a little smaller than an american quarter, then ur good 2 go bruh.
Dry pastas are not better/worse than fresh pasta. They’re legit just made with different flours using different procedures. One isn’t ‘fancier’ than the other u pretentious buttrockets.
PASTA IS NOT SCARY, IT’S DELICIOUS. These rules look tough, but honestly it’s not that bad bruh. I believe in u.
and now, onto the recipe I used for my pasta. It’s a restaurant favorite, we always make it on the line because it’s simple, delicious and super filling.
Caciopepe Pasta serves: 1 (lol like id share this with ppl lolol)
salt water for boiling (just salt some water, don’t fuckin travel to the beach in hopes of created the most bomb pasta ever)
1 bunch of pasta
2 bay leaves
1 sprig thyme
cold butter (approximately 2/3 cups cut into small pads
parmesan cheese to taste
a shit ton of black pepper to taste
Throw some pasta into some boiling water and do that thing where you constantly taste test the pasta to see if it’s ready. In the meantime, make ur sauce u lazy bumbum.
Add a little boiling pasta water to a saute pan over low heat, and whisk/mix in the butter quickly till it’s creamy and emulsified. If it’s too thick, just whisk in a teeny bit of pasta water. Add 2 bay leaves and a sprig of thyme for aroma, remove when pasta’s ready.
Once the pasta’s ready to rock and roll, use tongs to scoop it up and place it in the sauce. Flip and mix using tongs. Add cheese and crack a lot of pepper. Add salt if it needs seasoning, add more pasta water if the sauce tightens.
and bam, ya ready to roll.
I promise u if you use these pasta techniques, people will think ur literally a GOD. ur welcs.
Hi, hello! I’ve begun a separate tumblr for my floral/paper work that I sell on etsy, because it’s begun to feel weird to promote a lot of my work alongside the other things I reblog and also to not feel spammy.
Online commerce is a strange and foreign world to me - and I’ve been trying participate in it with integrity to my voice (i.e. making stuff for weddings, but also making text wreaths with feminist messages). When I posted this particular wreath, I didn’t have any intention of selling it. I got such a great response though, that I’ve since listed it on my etsy.
I also really wanted to put something up that would be affordable for anyone - so I’ve decided that the sale of the first two of this wreath will fund the creation of 1000 “all bodies are good bodies” temporary tattoos. I will list those temporary tattoos for the price of 44 cents to cover the cost of postage stamps. What better reminder than one on your body?
*Unfortunately, my search online hasn’t yielded any authors of “All bodies are good bodies.” I believe strongly in crediting authors and artists - if you know who the brilliant author is, please message me and give me the 411, so I can stop feeling like a fraud.
“It doesn’t get any better than this.” And for you, I’m afraid, that’s literally true. You’re a nice kid, and you’re obviously very smart, but you don’t belong here. So, as long as you’re part of my team, this is all you’re ever going to be doing… suction.
Sometimes I feel hollow inside, like an empty drum. I work, I talk to people, I laugh, I do things to keep busy… but it all feels so empty. It’s a purposeless routine… I have no real direction and I can’t see my life changing any time soon. I know this is better than the constant agony I used to feel when you first left but sometimes I wonder – Is this what ‘getting better’ is?… Is this all it will ever be… this emptiness?
I know you shouldn’t believe that a person can complete you. You’re supposed to be a complete person on your own… and I was… I always have been… But I wasn’t a HAPPY person. I just sort of ‘existed’ and did things because that’s what you’re supposed to do…
But I never felt inspired by anything and I was never really happy until I met you. And it’s hard to let go of that. It’s something so many people take for granted every day and I absolutely cherished every second of it… but losing it was hard. And I’m doing my best… I tell myself “head up, don’t cry, and look ahead not behind” but even my own laughter sounds different now… false and hollow as it echoes around my empty chest.
And those are times it’s hardest not to miss you, when I’m smiling or laughing on the outside but feeling so little on the inside and I ask myself; is this really getting better? Or is this just the numbness you feel when you’ve felt too much pain for too long?
The first draft of my previous post that I didn’t like and eventually changed. It took me the longest time to mix the right color palette to make the poster recognizable as “Wonder Woman” at first glance, and I feel like this one didn’t capture her signature colors that well. So I mixed a new palette and re-arranged the elements. I believe (and hope) that the new one looks more like WW than this version. Or maybe it’s just me and some of you might even like this one better. Thought I’d share it anyway ;)
-I witnessed a young girl in a tiara being pushed around the store, the soundtrack to Moana being blasted from an indeterminate location. She has figured it out. She is living the true Disney princess life.
-Two squabbling toddlers came through my lane. As expected, stickers soothed the savage youth instantaneously, turning them into pinnacles of behavior. I am convinced that I have been unwittingly brought into a Snickers commercial as the Supplier.
-A man zoomed past my lane, hustling and hobbling on his way towards the bathroom, his eyes darting all around, his hands clutching a hidden object beneath his shirt. I am grateful for the shoplifters who opt to take it easy on me. It is far too early for me to be at the top of my game, and I appreciate the handicap.
-A boy chanted, “Circle paint. Circle paint. Circle paint.” He grasped a wooden circle and a bottle of paint. I suspect that he intends to coat the circle with the paint. Only time will tell.
-Moments after being berated and ridiculed by a pair of elderly women, I was visited by a pair of puckish toddlers. Somehow sensing how crestfallen I had become, they stepped up their antics, making the most absurd facial expressions and noises in a heartfelt attempt to cheer me up. I am pleased to say that their endeavors were a positive success.
-I passed by a mother sternly explaining to her two year-old son that, were he to smack my manager, he would be sent directly to jail. I am not sure what he could have done to warrant such a warning, but this child does not seem too likely to heed it.
-A woman asked if we carried shoes. I told her that we did. She asked me where they were. I gave her detailed directions. She continued with her purchase. I asked her if she would like to go back to look. She told me that she was not interested in shoes. I do not know what I was thinking to presume as much of her.
-While attending to urgent corporate business, I found a comic book pamphlet entitled, “TITANIC” sitting on the toilet paper dispenser. Upon further inspection, I have found that it is a Christian story of how the Titanic hit the iceberg due to one man saying that he hated Jesus. This is not the first piece of religious literature, or religerature, that I have found in this stall, and I cross my fingers that it will not be the last.
-A woman asked if the shirts that she had just purchased had pockets. After I confirmed that they did not, she explained that she was worried as my shirt did. The shirt that I was wearing was by no means the same style, type, or brand, and had come from a different store, but I am a firm believer that it is always better to be safe than sorry when it comes to pockets.
I really love this whole humans are like the biggest oddity for aliens idea. And I had this idea that’s swimming in my head for a while now. If the aliens already think it’s a wonder we survive the conditions of our planet, how must they think about our way of reproduction. I mean the whole mammal-thing developed practically only cause a little creature once thought: “Eggs!?When they’re dinosaurs everywhere??I have a better idea!”
So what if aliens never needed to make this step? When their reproductions are mostly through eggs, sometimes other things and never like our system?
I mean just imagine: You are one of the first humans to become a crewmate of a alien crew. It was your dream since the first contact was made. You were prepared for almost everything. Just not for giving every damn alien you meet “the bloody talk“!
Somewhere in a bar on Planet Ur’tlz:
Alien A: “Whoa, this humans are really useful and stronger than they look! You would never believe what the human of my ship did!”
Alien B: “Please tell me they didn’t gave you ‘the talk’….I’m still traumatized…”
A: “….what are you talking of?”
B: “I made the error to ask how they get their eggs to be safe despite the dangerous planet they live on….they don’t lay eggs!”
B: “They carry their brood like…. like parasites *shudder*in their body for almosta Quertemz! Then they squeeze them through tiny body openings! Sometimes for days!DAYS!
B: “And it’s common to only get one offspring per
reproduction!One! They can die in the process, for Iz’klls sake!”
A: “I think my digestive system
B: “So I decided to oversee the contact my human makes with other humans. Because of some reason they only reproduce with humans of other gender, so its not that hard….
A: “A bit….drastic, don’t you think?
B: “I like my human crew mate! I don’t want them to die just cause the other humans can’t let their weird little limbs of them!”
A: “Sounds like they imprinted on you.”
B: “Maybe…sounds like something crewmate George would do…”
lmao muslim women only wear hijab because koran says that women body is dirty and you can only show your body to your father or man. koran control women. i'm happy that i'm human who independently and made independently decisions. not follow some misogyny book writen by man god who thinks men are better than women. religons are shit. believe in yourself not in some god man.
first of all, thank you for hiding behind the anonymous icon and judging me for a small piece of cloth i put on my head, it just proves how ignorant you are <3
now let me tell you a few things about the quran (yes, quran not Koran), all too often, people read the quran selectively, taking phrases out of context,
use it for whatever point they want to make and i think you’re one of those people. unlike what you believe, islam is not a religion where women sit and take orders, actually I do not know of another religious tradition in which women were so central, so present, so active in its formative history, from the first years of islam women scholars taught judges and imams, issued fatwas, and traveled to distant cities. Some made lecture tours across the Middle East. the real question here is
“Are Men and Women Equal Before Allah?” and any person with a brain, who read the quran knows that the answere to this question is YES just one example is the verse 4:43 from sourat a’nissa’ ( the women), it starts by saying men and women are created “from one soul.” So the Koran starts from the assumption of absolute equality in creation.
“what do you think about all violent thing in writen in koran? murder, rape, violence, about men controlling everything women do? “ wow what kind of quran did you read??? bc the quran i read wasn’t like this, it was quite the opposit actually, the principle reason of fighting in Islam is self-defensive
“To those against whom war is made, permission is given (to fight), because they are wronged; and verily, God is most powerful for their aid…If God did not defend one set of people by means of another, then monasteries, churches, synagogues, and mosques, in which the name of God is commemorated in abundant measure, would surely have been destroyed…” (22:39-40)
Further, Muslims are commanded not to be aggressive: “Fight in the cause of God those who fight you, but do not transgress limits; for God loveth not transgressors” (2:190) In addition, when the enemy inclines toward peace, Muslims are commanded to cease hostilities: “But if the enemy incline towards peace, do thou (also) incline towards peace” (8:61). The guiding principle of Islam with respect to non-Muslims is one of tolerance and mutual respect, plain and simple: “God does not forbid you from dealing kindly and justly with those who do not fight you for (your) Faith nor drive you out of your homes: for God loveth those who are just.” (60:8) now let’s talk about hijab. Muslim society prizes female modesty.
Hijab frees women from being thought of as sexual objects of desire or from being valued for their looks, or body shape rather then their minds and intellect. No longer slaves to consumerism, hijab liberates women from the need to conform to unrealistic stereotypes and images dictated by the media. Women wearing hijab have expressed that dressing modestly and covering their hair, minimises sexual harassment in the workplace. The aura of privacy created by hijab is indicative of the great value Islam places upon women.
Hijab can be a symbol of piety and it can be a sign of great inner strength and fortitude. A woman wearing hijab becomes a very visible sign of Islam that’s why,
in the last 30 years hijab has emerged as a sign of Islamic consciousness. Many women see wearing the hijab as indicative of their desire to be part of an Islamic revival, especially in countries where the practice of Islam is discouraged or even forbidden.
whew that was long, sorry if i made many mistakes english isn’t my first language (not even 2nd), thank you.
Well the age of consent in Japan is 13. That doesn't mean it's morally ok. But by bandying about the 'consent laws of that country make it okay' you've just allied yourself to pedophilia. Congrats. Creep.
woo it’s like the first time I posted something Otayuri and already my first anti!
ooh boy, let’s go then, shall we?
pfft I’m a 22 yo girl from Russia and believe me, I know far better than you (whoever the fuck you are you coward) what’s okay and not okay in my culture. 15-16 year olds dating people of 18-19 years is pretty common. some may disapprove but unless someone gets knocked up, people generally don’t care.
both of them being guys would gather much more shit than 3 year freaking “age gap” (lol)
we seriously need to stop pretending that people under 18 don’t do anything sexual. like how stupid and ridiculous and divorced from reality do you need to be???
I was not so into everybody’s business so I can’t be sure but judging by people dating, at least ¼-1/3 of my year did something sexual before 18
age of consent in Russia is 16. in Kazakhstan too.
“paedophilia” lol. people just love throwing that word around nowadays. do you even know what that means? “Paedophilia is when a person sixteen years of age or older is primarily or exclusively sexually attracted to children who have not begun puberty (generally eleven years old or less)” who the hell is supposed to be under 11 here? I don’t think we even have those characters in YOI except for the triplets. and no one’s shipping them as far as I can see
I know our culture is super obsessed with sex but since when dating = sex, especially when you’re a teen??? I know plenty of people who dated and then split up all without doing more than making out occasionally
you being anon and not even trying to defend your ridiculous notions to my face just discredits what you said by like 50%
why do I even argue? it’s pointless. I can write 50 more points and it won’t make a difference to someone like you. if you ship hate then have the balls to admit it. no need to try and justify your shitty treatment of others in the fandom by taking an imaginary “high ground”
You say too late to start Got your heart in a headlock I don’t believe any of it You say too late to start With your heart in a headlock You know you’re better than this
When yesterday @pandirpus told me how much this song fits these two, I finally had an idea what to draw for their birthday! It’s still two days till the 14th but I just couldn’t wait to draw or post this, cuz Symbra is love, Symbra is life!
That MTV interview with the photographer was a well written piece of propaganda for “Bare with me”, basically saying that love is love, and it is beautiful in all forms. The stuff about Lauren and Lucy was all propaganda to prop up the narrative.
The photographer and the wardrobe lady were only saying what they were advised to say. LIES! (though the wardrobe lady decided to fuck the narrative a bit with the “sisterly and maternal connection”) Management did the same thing with DWTS. Val was advised to lie about when and where he had his first meet up with Normani for DWTS. They had been rehearsing for days before that Houston Rodeo, yet they wanted to push the narrative to the general public that the girls were in on the surprise, and helped introduce Mani to her dance partner. Why? To show how much they support her decision to do her own thing.
My point is, they (management) have no problem getting outside forces, other than the girls, to help sell their narrative. The ladies who did that photo-shoot with Lauren and Lucy are no different. Why have the photographer say what she said? They needed someone, other than Lauren or Lucy, to confirm that Laucy was real, to prove that Camren wasn’t. That one interview killed three birds with one stone. It confirmed Laucy, destroyed Camren, then destroyed Laucy, all at the same damn time. Brilliant actually.
Kageyama doesn’t get embarrassed, Hinata has discovered. Like, ever.
He’ll fall asleep in class sitting straight up with his eyes still open, the whites showing when they roll to the back of his head, and all his classmates laugh and pose for pictures with him. When he wakes up, he blinks at them in a daze, yawns, and then goes about his business.
He has shown absolutely zero shame discussing his bowel movements in front of people, up to and including Yachi, for which Tanaka and Nishinoya have given him several stern lectures.
He says stuff like “Even if it takes you ten years, or twenty, will you still stand with me? Even at the top of the world?” Most high schoolers would show a healthy amount of mortification, practically proposing to their crush and eventual boyfriend-to-be as abruptly as that, but not Kageyama Tobio. He’s immune.
Hinata, in contrast to Kageyama, is easily embarrassed by everything. He gets embarrassed when he’s called on in class and doesn’t know the answer (so, every single time), he turns red when he has an upset stomach before games, he starts stammering and shouting apologies when he hits the net with a bad serve. The time he puked in Tanaka-senpai’s lap on the bus on their way to a practice match, he almost died. It doesn’t keep Hinata down for long, but he and Kageyama are like night and day when it comes to this stuff.
So of course, when Kageyama confesses to Hinata (he just did it out of nowhere, too), it takes Hinata at least three minutes to stop hiding behind the volleyball he’s holding to accept his confession, and another two minutes to start breathing properly again. Kageyama has to say “Oy, dumbass,” no less than four times in order to snap him out of it. When Hinata finally looks up at Kageyama, he’s met with the usual severe frown he knows so well (and is weirdly fond of).
There were plotters, there was no doubt about it. Some had been ordinary people who’d had enough. Some were young people with no money who objected to the fact that the world was run by old people who were rich. Some were in it to get girls. And some had been idiots as mad as Swing, with a view of the world just as rigid and unreal, who were on the side of what they called “The People." Vimes had spent his life on the streets, and had met decent men and fools and people who’d steal a penny from a blind beggar and people who performed silent miracles or desperate crimes every day behind the grubby windows of little houses, but he’d never met The People.
People on the side of The People always ended up disappointed, in any case. They found that The People tended not to be grateful or appreciative or forward-thinking or obedient. The People tended to be small-minded and conservative and not very clever and were even distrustful of cleverness. And so the children of the revolution were faced with the age-old problem: it wasn’t that you had the wrong kind of government, which was obvious, but that you had the wrong kind of people.
As soon as you saw people as things to be measured, they didn’t measure up.
Night Watch, by Terry Pratchett
I’ve been thinking about this passage a lot lately, with Current Events, and how hard it is to have faith in humanity when humanity can be so… well, so awful sometimes. And how many people have had their faith – in people, in their church, in their families – deeply shaken by the election and the rotten underbelly it exposed. And I keep thinking about that last bit – as soon as you saw people as things to be measured, they didn’t measure up.
And I’m trying to wrap my head around to thinking like this, like Vimes, I suppose: faith in the ultimate goodness of humanity is a good thing, but you can’t expect it of people. Believing that people can be better than they are means that you have to accept how people are in the first place. And you have to accept that most of them are not going to live up to your ideal. And you have to believe in them anyway – because so often people just need someone to believe in them in order to rise, and because you have to in order to stay sane, and at the bottom of it, because somebody has to believe in us or we’ll never move an inch.