celebrity worth

It’s not stupid. I promise. It’s not stupid to turn into your 5 year old self and get happy beyond measure for the little things. It’s not stupid to be proud of yourself for completing a load of laundry and washing the dishes. You aren’t lame for patting yourself on the back when you chose a salad over a burger. You’re taking care of yourself and each victory - no matter how small - is worth celebrating. 

I recently saw a video of a young woman talking about all of the reasons our generation, the Millennials, sucks and that’s she’s sorry for what we’ve become. Here is my, a fellow Millennial, response:

You say we’re just ‘existing’ and not ‘contributing anything to society.’ The oldest Millennial is 34, the youngest is 12, we haven’t had time to contribute anything yet. We’re trying to survive in a world that no other generation has had to grow up in, with a tanked economy and most of our childhood hearing nothing but war in the Middle East on the news while also being profoundly connected. We didn’t do that.

You say we’re no longer polite, we don’t say ‘no, sir’ or ‘no ma’am’ anymore and we no longer hold the door open for our elders or women. We also don’t expect low-paid workers to break their backs for us, or at yell at them when they make a mistake, like my 60-year-old grandfather does. We say ‘no problem’ when there’s a mistake in order, and politely stand by while the 40-something-year-old soccer mom huffs and rolls her eyes as the new girl struggles to punch in the correct code.

You say our music objectifies women and glorifies drugs and criminals. There has been no significant change from the songs that were once sung or the singers who sang them. Many of the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s performers were drug addicts, womanizers, and criminals in their own right. Elvis Presley was child abuser, John Lennon raped his many girlfriends and most of the music I grew up listening, which was 80’s rock, were performed by habitual drug abusers. Let’s not pretend like human nature took a drastic turn when 1983 rolled around.

You say we cuss to prove a point. We, as a generation, have learned it’s not the words we fucking use, it’s the passion in them that we care about. As a generation, we’ve become more interested in politics and the world around us, cursing is minor problem when we consider the political climate the older generation has plunged us into.

You say we use ‘bae’ to describe the ones we love. Bae, originally, means ‘before anyone else’ which is incredibly romantic in my opinion. Bae is also hardly ever taken seriously, it’s a jokey way to talk about someone you love. Language changes, I doubt people were happy when we changed ‘wherefore’ into ‘why.’ The greatest injustice we can do to our language and culture is not allow it to evolve and grow with us.

You say we idolize people like Kim Kardashian and shame people like Tim Tebow. Kim Kardashian is a business woman who had a private video she made with a lover illegally revealed. Instead of fading into obscurity, she stood tall and did not let the sexual shaming she endured stop her and now runs a multi-million dollar industry, is married to one of the richest men in the world, and had two beautiful children. Tim Tebow is a Christian who was criticized by a few people for praying in an open stadium while most people just wanted to see a game.

You say we’re lazy and entitled, we want to make a lot of money and get a free education but we’re not willing to put in the work. We are not lazy. I cannot tell you how many people I meet who have gone to school full time while working a part or even full-time job just to make ends meet. We’re not entitled, we’re bitter. In the 70’s, you could work a part time job over the summer and pay your way through four years of school because tuition was $400, now just to walk in the door of your local community college you need to drop $14,000. We have kids who aren’t even old enough to drink, yet are already $20,000 deep in debt. Debt that won’t go away because even filing for bankruptcy won’t erase it. And even with that education, there’s no guarantee you’ll find something in your field. I have a friend who has a degree in microbiology and she’s making $9 an hour selling $15 candles. I have another friend who has a masters in Sport Psychology and Counseling. She’s a bartender. My parents bought a three bedroom house in the suburbs in the late 90’s while my generation is imagining apartments with breezy windows and trying to get enough money to get food while we scrounge up less than $8 a week.

You say we spend more time online making friends and less time building relationships and our relationship’s appearance on Facebook is more important than building the foundation that relationship is based on. We are a generation that is profoundly connected and no other generation has seen this before. We have more opportunities to meet people from all over the world and better chances to understand other worldviews and lifestyles. Being able to stay home and talk to people over the internet is cheaper and more relaxing than having to force yourself to interact with people in public settings after a long day of minimum wage labor. The people I talk to more over the internet are people I have been friends with for years. It’s easier to talk about the day’s events over Skype or Facebook Messenger than arrange a day to meet in person when you have conflicting schedules. I truly don’t believe most people care what others think of their friendship or how their relationships ‘look’ on social media. Most often what you are calling ‘our relationship’s appearance on Facebook’ are documented and searchable memories.

You say our idea of what we believe in is going on Facebook and posting a status on Facebook. Not everyone can join in with the crowds of protesters. It’s easy to see what others have to say through the comments and argue back without the threat of violence. And when this generation does organize events to stand up for ourselves, it’s met with childish name-calling or being reduced to a ‘riot.’

You say we believe the number of follows we have reflects who we are as a person. It’s nice knowing there’s 20 or 50 or maybe even 100 people who care what you have to say or think. We live in an age where we can and will be heard.

You say we don’t respect our elders, that we don’t respect our country. Our elders grew up in one of the greatest economic booms in history and in turn made it the worst economic situation since the 1930’s all while blaming kids who were only five at the time for it. We stand on our flag because it means nothing, it’s a pretty banner for an ugly lie. We’re a country that says you can make it if you just work hard enough while, in the end, that will almost never happen. We’re a country that becomes irate at the idea of 20-something college kids standing on some canvas dyed red, white, and blue but seem to shrug off the millions of homeless, disabled veterans.

You say we’re more divided than ever before. Ever before what? When black folk couldn’t drink from the same fountain as white folk? When women couldn’t vote? When white southerners fought for the idea that they could keep black people as slaves? We’re a generation that is done with injustice and when you fight for social change, you will divide people.

You say everything that was frowned up is celebrated. What does that mean? We frowned up gay marriage. We frowned upon wives being able to say no to sex with their husbands. We frowned up interracial marriage. We frowned up black folk being allowed to go to school with white folk. We frowned upon women being allowed to vote. Are those things not worth celebrating?

You say nothing has value in our generation, that we take advantage of everything. We value friendship more, we value the fists of change, we value social justice and family and the right to marry those we love. We value the right to be yourself, wholly and fully. We value the right to choose and we value the idea of fighting what you believe in, even when everyone older than you is telling you you’re what’s wrong with the country.

You say we have more opportunities to succeed than those before but we don’t ‘appreciate’ them. We are a bitter generation. You can finance a boat for 3.9% but you have to pay back college tuition plus 8.9%. We may have more opportunities but those opportunities cost money we don’t have.

You say you can see why we’re called ‘Generation,’ but we’re not Generation Y, we’re Millennials and we do feel entitled. We were promised a strong economy and inexpensive education. We had the world in our hands and we were going to make it better. And it was ripped away from us because of incompetent rulers, illegal wars, and greedy corporations and we get blamed for it. Crime has gone down, abortion and unintended pregnancy has lowered, people are living longer, people are more educated, people are less likely to die from violent crime or diseases, yet my generation is touted as the worst generation and for what? Crimes that we’re accused of that happened before we could even wipe our own ass? We were raised better, and we were raised in a society that treated, and continues to treat, us like garbage. And we are done. We are not sorry, we did nothing wrong.

There is a Haitian saying that might upset the aesthetic sensibilities of some women. ‘Nou lèd, nou la,’ it says. 'We are ugly, but we are here.’ Like the modesty that is common in rural Haitian culture, this saying makes a deeper claim for poor Haitian women than maintaining beauty, be it skin-deep or otherwise. For women like my grandmother, what is worth celebrating is the fact that we are here, that against all odds, we exist.
—  Edwidge Danticat, “We Are Ugly, but We Are Here,” Women Writing Resistance: Essays on Latin America and the Caribbean 
Ain’t Got Nothin’ But Love

A Highschool AU SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration


Admittedly, it might not be entirely truthful to say that Baz joined Vocal Jazz because he loved singing.  This is not to say that he didn’t love singing, it just wasn’t something that he tended to broadcast. And yes, Vocal Jazz was a good way of coming out of his shell, breaking past that barrier of shyness when it came to his own voice, plus maybe making some friends.

           However, let’s just say that Baz might not have auditioned if it weren’t for the blonde-haired blue-eyed tenor.

           And maybe he didn’t get up for those early morning practices before class purely because he loved singing, but because he loved something else.  Someone else.

***           

Baz was more than a little disappointed when the group was split into two for the Valentine’s Day Musical Candy Gram event.  Granted, some might find it a little overwhelming to have ten people singing at them in front of the class, but couldn’t he at least have been put in Simon’s group?

           No, because the ensemble only had two basses and two tenors.  Both groups needed one of each, and Simon couldn’t miss third class.

           So Baz was left to swallow his disappointment as he followed his group down the halls of Watford High, singing excerpts of Beatles songs at poor unsuspecting students.  Objectively, it was a cute little setup.  They would barge into a classroom with the chorus of “She Loves You”.  Then Trixie, one of the sopranos, would call out the names of any “lucky” students, who would then have to make their embarrassing way to the front of the room to accept a flower or a card or both from Trixie and be serenaded with “8 Days A Week”.  All in all, not horrible.  Objectively. Baz was just glad he wasn’t on the subjective side of things.

           After fourth period, which he spent both quietly chuckling at the sound of his choir mates in nearby classrooms, and also praying they wouldn’t burst into his classroom or, heaven forbid, bestow a Musical Candy Gram upon him, Baz returned to the empty music room for his coat, which he had left there when the group had met at lunch.  As he buttoned up the coat, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit melancholy.  He hated to admit it to himself, but while singing was great, it was nothing compared to singing with Simon.  Because when he was singing with Simon it made “I’ll Be Seeing You”, their competition piece, feel different.  He wasn’t just singing words; it was more of an outlet.  Like pouring his bottled-up feelings down a drain.  They weren’t going to Simon, but at least they were going somewhere.

           “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

           Baz’s heart sank when all nine of his choir mates filed into the room, singing and snapping their fingers, this time directing their song at him, but he had to smile a little.

           “Really?” he smirked as Trixie came forward to hand him a single rose with a card attached by a ribbon.  “Is this all necessary?”  In response, they burst into “8 Days A Week”, beaming at him like he’d won some sort of prize.  It was mortifying, but it was almost nice.

Baz snuck a glance at Simon, who was singing through a grin, and even though he knew he was probably blushing, Baz held his gaze for a few more seconds, saving the sight to replay later.

“Alright, who’s it from then?” he demanded when the others had finally finished singing.  “There’s no name on the card.”

“Oooh, a secret admirer!” squealed Trixie, but nobody had an answer for him.  Baz didn’t miss the smirk that twisted Simon’s mouth though, or how smug the boy looked when he left the room.

 ***

“You know, don’t you?”

Simon didn’t answer right away, but Baz saw his mouth twitch.  “Know what?”

“Who sent me the card and the flower yesterday.” Baz tried to sound indifferent as he trawled through the philosophy section of the library.  “I could see it on your face.”

Simon pulled a book on Aristotle off the shelf, not looking at Baz.  “It’s possible,” he drawled.  “After all, you are my best friend, I ought to know who has a crush on you.”

“What you ought to do is tell me, best friend.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“I can’t,” Simon turned to him giggling.  “If I tell you who sent the Valentine, it would be breaking confidence.” He solemnly put one hand over his heart and one in the air by his head.  “I am under oath.”

“Under oath to whom?”

“The person who sent it, of course.”

Baz shot a look at him.  “So you’ve talked to them about it?”

“You could say that.”

“You’re being annoyingly cryptic.”

“Do you have any suspicions?”

Of course Baz had thought about it all day yesterday after school, but his mind had kept wandering back to what Baz wanted.  Because there was only one person he wanted to be behind the Valentine.

And if Baz was being honest with himself, it Simon hadn’t sent it, Baz didn’t want it.

He just shrugged.  “No one I can think of really makes sense.”

“Most love doesn’t make sense,” Simon murmured in reply, so softly that Baz thought maybe it wasn’t for him to hear.  Granted they were in a library, but still.

“Would you tell me if I guessed correctly?”

“No guarantees, but you have permission to interrogate me.  Ask away.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Hopefully a boy.”

Baz raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean ‘hopefully’?”

“Well, in theory,” Simon stammered, “whoever sent it cares about you enough to know that you’re gay, and if it were a girl, hopefully she would respect you enough to know better than to send you a Valentine.”

Baz had to admit he had a point.  “So basically what you’re saying is that it was a boy?”

Simon smiled.  “If that’s what you think.”

A thought occurred to him.  “It wasn’t Agatha, was it?  Just to get that off the table?”

“No it was not,” Simon admitted, “that would be a bit weird.”

“Especially since she’s still carrying a torch for you,” Baz snorted, maybe a little louder than was appropriate in a library.  Simon gave a wry smile that Baz couldn’t quite interpret.

“It wasn’t her,” Simon assured him, “guess again.”

Baz was honestly stumped.  There just wasn’t anyone else who seemed even the least bit interested in him.  He had thought that maybe Dev had had feelings for him a few years earlier, but now Dev was happily involved with his girlfriend, which eliminated that possibility.

“Really?” Simon smirked.  “No one?”

“There just isn’t anyone who shows any signs of liking me like that,” Baz shrugged.

“You might be surprised at the number of people who would gladly date you.  I mean, you’re certainly not hard to look at.”

Baz shot a surprised glance at Simon, who was apparently very interested in a chapter about nihilism.  Did he just…

“Is there anyone you want it to be from?” Simon asked quickly, like he didn’t want Baz to question him further.

You.

“Yes.”

Simon looked up at him with a smile that seemed just a little bit painted, and looked back down quickly.  “You should ask them,” he said in an overly cheery voice, “you could get lucky.”

“There’s no point,” Baz shook his head.

“Why not?”

“There’s no way it was them,” he chuckled sadly, “absolutely no way.”

Simon shrugged without looking at him.  “Maybe that’s for the best.  If you never know who it was, you can just imagine that it was who you wanted it to be, and the person can just imagine that you like them back.”

Baz didn’t have an answer for that.  It sounded like an easy solution, to just let the whole thing fade away and imagine that Simon had picked out the rose with care, that he had skirted around Baz when the group prepared all the Candy Grams so that Baz wouldn’t find his own name among the Valentines. That he had done something silly like kiss the card before tying it to the bloom.

But it was too good to be true, and Baz knew it. He would never stop wondering if he didn’t find out for sure.

So he steeled himself and forced the words out of his mouth: “Was it you?”

Simon looked up at him with practiced innocence, but his eyes betrayed a touch of fear.  “Why would you think that?”

“I just had to ask,” Baz floundered, hoping he hadn’t gone as scarlet as he felt.  “So that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“… No.”

“No, what?”

“No, it’s not a ‘no’.”

Baz’s brain was going at a thousand miles per second, and yet he couldn’t for the life of him comprehend what Simon was saying. “Oh,” was his scholarly response. “So that means…”

Simon stared straight ahead into the bookcase. “I sent it.  You got me.”

“Why?”

Simon finally turned to look at him.  “Why?  Gee, I don’t know, Baz!”  He was whispering, but with so much force that it felt to Baz like he was shouting. “Maybe because in all the years we’ve been friends you have astounded me and I only just made sense of it all! Maybe because you’re brilliant and gentle and so goddamn beautiful and when you sing I never want you to stop, and even if you never found out who sent you the stupid flower or if you didn’t care, at least I would have tried to tell you how much I like you, at least I would have -”

The next sound he made was one of shock as Baz’s mouth covered his own.

The sound after that was one of oh god, finally because Baz had him backed against the philanthropy section and was tangling his fingers in Simon’s curls, burying his lips in heat and need and oh, this is what all the hype is about and it was a million times better than Simon could have hoped for.

“Under oath to whom, again?” Baz teased against Simon’s lips, and Simon laughed lightly as he snaked his arms around Baz’s neck, already desperate for more.

“You got me,” he whispered, reaching up for Baz’s mouth again, and Baz couldn’t help but grin as Simon pulled him down to meet him.  Baz angled his head and deepened the kiss, a low sigh escaping his throat.  In the back of his head he remembered the rose and the card, and took to moment to appreciate the fact that he wouldn’t be throwing them away after all before setting up a long, slow rhythm against Simon’s mouth like they had all the time in the world.

“A Wish for 100″

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Midnight strikes, officially marking Bucky’s 100th birthday. You surprise the super-soldier with a small treat and a gift that has potential to change everything.

A/N: ending the last few hours of the day by wishing a happy 100th to our sweet plum, bucky barnes! // i wrote this in 7 minutes (i timed myself, hurrah) so it’s an incoherent mess. i’ll probably delete this sometime next week xx

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Bucky leans against the headboard of his bed, bringing the covers closer to his body before crossing his arms against his chest. He watches as the second hand of the clock make its way around, hypnotically ticking away.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

In a few minutes, he’ll be 100-years-old, and it baffles him that he’s been on this planet for a century. He’s outlived his parents, his contemporaries, and everything he considered to be home. His age isn’t something he’s too keen on, especially since he’s spent over half of those “one hundred years of life” as a brainwashed weapon for a terrorist organization.

Birthdays are still a weird concept, and he prefers to not make a big deal out of them. He’s requested his teammates to treat it like any other day, and he doesn’t want any special attention. Lucky for him, the Avengers members with a flare for surprises and events are on a mission, and hopefully the rest of the team will oblige to his request.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

His breath hitches.

It’s midnight.

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a thought on Bellarke

Sometimes I think about how soft Bellamy and Clarke will never get to be. Their softness, their innocence, their youth has been stolen from, in an even crueler way than it was from the rest of delinquents. In that way where their edges had to be hardened for them to lead, in the way where the weight of responsibility presses down on you until you’re as hard and sharp as a diamond. 

In another world, Clarke would have allowed herself compassion- she would have cared for people as a doctor, brought beauty into the world as a artist. Clarke was always destined to make the hard calls, yes; but they would have been about rationing medicine or when to operate or an intense vote on the council on the ark. She wouldn’t have to cut her own heart out of the equation to cut out someone else’s. The blood on her latex-clad hands wouldn’t seep into her soul. She would have been free to love and be loved in return and she would have two parents and a whole unbroken heart. 

Bellamy’s life never would have been easy, but there would have been a way, one day, for him to have a life where his love for people could always be rewarded; a positive, healthy, giving kind of love and devotion that doesn’t twist in his gut, that doesn’t inevitably turn into rage or revenge. He could have led a unit of the guard, and formed his own found family and given inspirational speeches without also knowing the scalding heat of a machine gun pumping bullets into bodies. He could have taught a classroom of boisterous children, without a mountain full of dead ones awaiting him in nightmares. His rash choices would lead to mouthing off to a councilman or getting in a fight with a rude boy at school, not bear the consequences of dozens of lives. In another world, Bellamy could hug and touch and love and be held and loved in return- in another world his vulnerability wouldn’t have to be rationed, or hidden, or protected and locked away. 

 And that’s the thing that makes Bellarke both devastating and beautiful to me. They didn’t have a choice in the hand they were dealt, and it’s not an easy life, and it’s not a fair life. They have both been broken down as people: their worst traits drawn out, their best tested to the limits of endurance. As individuals, they feel the weight - the loss - of what they were, of what they could have been. And they didn’t have a choice. But. But at least, in this life, they will never be alone. In this life, they can chose to be together. And, together, they can be whole. 

Together they find those shades of softness they thought had been wrung out of them; together they bare vulnerabilities in defiance of their circumstances, a quiet show of resistance to world that has turned them into monsters. They offer understanding unconditionally, they offer forgiveness for the unforgivable. They make apologies on behalf of the world to each other. They trade the will to live, to love, to press onward between them, taking turns carrying each other to the finish line. If you’re on that list I’m on that list. 

And they didn’t just fall from the sky into each other’s hearts - their love, their trust, their bond - is earned. They fell in love with each other’s ideals before they even liked each other; as that one article said - in the most idealistic way possible.

Bellamy fell in love with the hope and idealism Clarke had about humanity; he wanted to be what she saw in him, wanted to live in the world as she imagined it. He fell in love with a girl who through sheer force of will could bend the world to how she wanted it. He fell in love with her belief that there was a better way, that humanity could and should be good, that goodness can and will prevail. He fell in love with what she saw in him - never is Bellamy more whole than when he is looking at himself through her eyes.

And Clarke… Clarke fell in love with Bellamy’s heart. With the idea that someone’s heart could be both their weakness and their strength, their resilience, their courage. She was inspired by the intensity of his love for his sister - a love like nothing she’d ever seen, a love that changed the way she thought about love. She fell in love with his ability to reach straight into the hearts of people, with just a look, with just a word. She fell in love with his humanity - and with his ability to inspire it in others. And when she’s afraid she’s lost her own humanity, when she feels it slipping, he’s there. He’s there for her but also as living proof: that love doesn’t have to run out, that it doesn’t have to burn you down like fire to a candle. He reminds her that her humanity isn’t destined to be lost.

So after all that has been forced on them, and all that they’ve suffered - there is a measure of innocence, of softness that they will never regain, that they can never have. But what’s extraordinary - what makes Bellarke extraordinary to me - is how jealously and defiantly they have held on to that last measure of softness, of vulnerability, of humanity. They cling to it and share it between them and somehow, through that choice, they turn it into something more. Because when they are with each other, they are not only at their most vulnerable - they are at their strongest. They turn each other’s softness to strength, their compassion into determination. That kind of love transcends desire or declaration, definition or dismissal. And it’s damn well worth celebrating.

4

Because she loves him. She loves him, you know? She’s not gonna let him control her, or be her “everything”, you fall in love with someone and there’s a commitment there.  They made a commitment with their marriage to each other, support and be there together, through ups and downs, through thick and thin. It was made a long time ago, and through all the bad he has done, it’s always been with the guise of protecting her. It’s never been with destruction in mind, or causing harm and pain towards her. 

1.1k celebration → for @betsypaige22​ (x)

i. you’ll always be better than the person you were yesterday. sometimes i fall into the trap of thinking i’ve always been in the same place, but that’s just it: it’s a trap. it’s my mind tricking me again. it’s searching for one good thing i’ve done in the last year and finding twenty because there really are infinite.

ii. maybe i’m still not over it and maybe i should be but maybe i shouldn’t be and maybe it doesn’t matter because every day, i’m healing, even on the days where i don’t think i’ll ever be. i’m looking back and seeing only smog where my trauma used to be, but when i dare push through it, i find behind it, well, everything.

iii. there are things that are worse than last year but there are things that are better and i guess that’s life - nothing is ever going to be all great at the same time, but there’s always going to be little accomplishments worth celebrating.

iv. and yeah, some days it hurts so bad, i think my trauma controls me. some days i think i am nothing without it, that i need it for my art, that there is nothing artistic about being happy, that the only people who are are living inside of a delusional feeling. and maybe i’m right in a way: the most amazing people i’ve ever met are, in their own way, hurting. but that’s everybody. that’s everybody. really. i know it’s been said so many times, but once you really realize that everybody is struggling do you realize that you’ve never been alone in this. you’ll never be alone in this. really.

v. we’re going to get through this. it’s going to be gradual, never all at once. maybe it’s never going to be over in the way we want it to be. but we’re going to get through this. together. always.

—  5 things about trauma
“Something Worth Fighting For” Preparation Party and Follower Celebration

Hello all! I am so pleased to announce that I am this close to finally beginning the posting for the third installment of my Worth Fighting For series: “Something Worth Fighting For.” Additionally, I have crossed over the 3,000 follower mark!

To celebrate the return of the series and this follower milestone, I will be doing author commentaries on each chapter of the story so far. I will reblog each chapter twice per day with the commentary below it, and will be doing 5 chapters per day, with the exception of today where I will do the first four chapters. (Math says this means it will span an 8 day period) I will not be taking tags for these reblogs, but they will all be tagged as “WFF Commentary.”

Additionally, I will be taking drabble requests related to the series. This means if you would like to ask me a question or offer up a headcannon about the characters or events in the series, etc. I can answer them via drabble! Beware, if I for some reason do not take your request, it may be because your request was either too vague/specific, not related to the series, or the answer/headcannon might even come in the impending sequel!

Drabble requests will be open until the end of Sunday, May 21, central timezone (which is mine.) I’m planning to be done at the same time as the commentaries, which is May 25.

After all is said and done, I will be releasing the first chapter of Something Worth Fighting for on Friday May 26!

With love,
Kris

Anyone on my perm taglist has been tagged below the cut ;)

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Things to be happy about today

-Somewhere in the world, it has just gotten warm enough to have a pleasant afternoon walk. A girl calls for her dog and grabs the leash. Little puppy nails scramble against the tile, and the dog almost careens into the table, barely able to control the inertia of his own excitement.

-Somewhere in the world, a young man nudges his wife. “It’s time to wake up,” he murmurs. She mumbles something that may or may not be words and pulls the covers over her head. The boy can’t help the smile that softly spreads across his face. He nestles back into the covers and wraps his arm around her, deciding that, perhaps just this one time, they can spare a few more minutes in bed. The girl peeks out from her blanket cocoon, and the boy takes the chance to swoop in for a kiss on her nose. She squeaks and bats him away. “Don’t do that!” But she’s laughing. They both are. The boy takes a moment to wonder how he got so lucky. He loves her so, so much.

-Somewhere in the world, a person idly doodles in their notebook during class. When they examine their handiwork, they realize that the drawing is actually pretty good. They wear a small, goofy smile for the rest of the day.

-Somewhere in the world, an old woman slowly slips on her gardening gloves and hobbles outside to check on her plants. As she bends to grab the watering can, she sees that one of her tulips has bloomed, a brilliant red nestled in a sea of green. She claps her hands, once, and calls inside for her grandson to come look. 

-Somewhere in the world, two shy people are in love. They sit by a bonfire, watching the crackling of the flames and thinking about how they are going to tell their families. One of them tenses and relaxes their hand a few times, wondering what their mother will think, what their friends will think, what they will do if no one approves. Their anxiety builds until they feel a soft hand catch theirs. They look up, into the warm, inviting eyes of the person they adore, and their shoulders relax. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. They will make it through together, and it will be worth it. It will all be okay.

-Somewhere in the world, a young immigrant holds a letter from her dream college in her hands. Her whole body shakes as she runs her nail along the envelope, tearing it open. Her parents hover over her shoulder, filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement. They don’t understand much English, but they recognize the word that appears at the top of the page when it is unfolded: congratulations! Everyone starts cheering at once. This is the first time the girl has ever seen her father cry. They all throw themselves in a messy group hug, bouncing up and down in a rhythm that is not synced, but somehow still seems like a perfect harmony.

-Somewhere in the world, you woke up. It may be the easiest thing you had to do today, or the hardest thing you have to do every day. Either way, your eyes fluttered open and you took a deep breath, letting the sensation of consciousness wash over you. It may be a nice feeling. It may be a burden. But you have done it. You have risen to the challenge of a new day. You may accomplish one of your life’s dreams today. You may only accomplish the act of allowing your heart to beat. Both of these things are worth celebrating. 

-Somewhere in the world, a young woman with a very tiny ponytail types at a keyboard. She is tired, barely able to keep her eyes open, but she is grateful to be alive for another day. She knows that her words may reach no one, but that there’s a chance someone’s heart may be a little lighter if she sends her thoughts out into the world, and it’s a chance she’s willing to take. She settles on the last thing she wants to say before closing her laptop and dozing off for an afternoon nap:

The mistakes you made yesterday don’t matter anymore. Today is the perfect day to try again.

  • sexist males: a woman's worth comes from her reproductive system, nothing else. it's gross and shameful and only good for sex and reproducing.
  • radical feminists: females have vulvas and our highly stigmatized anatomy is worth celebrating.
  • liberals: this is somehow the EXACT same thing????

chy_leigh: Grateful. That’s the word I’ve had on repeat in my mind all morning as I’m getting ready for the #glaadawards tonight. To be honest, I’ve had quite the mix of emotions leading up to this. I’ve been so honored, and excited, and proud, and… kinda nervous. To me, tonight isn’t about a categorical win or loss for @supergirlcw per say, though I know I can speak for all of us that we are humbled and thankful to be recognized (among so many incredible nominees) for the blood, sweat, and tears we’ve lovingly sown into telling this powerful story. Personally, I believe it’s about the opportunity to stand #united as a community that is undermined and over discriminated upon. This is an opportunity to represent a growing, beautiful and healthy lesbian relationship, which unfortunately holds as a rarity in today’s media. It’s amazing that we as a people can make so many unbelievably amazing scientific discoveries and achievements and yet our sense of compassion towards ALL of humanity is still so discriminative, so minimal, so broken, so sad. So there’s a part of me that’s nervous about tonight because I want to make sure I get the representation right and make the LGBT community proud. And then I remember that this isn’t about “getting it right”, it’s about simply telling the truth. And the truth is… You are #loved • You are #beautiful exactly as you are • You are #worth celebrating • And friends, that’s when the nerves simmer down and the gratitude takes over. Thank you for your acceptance and appreciation of #Sanvers. Thank you for your trust and your investment into this relationship. @florianalima and I will stand tall tonight as we walk hand in hand in solidarity with all of those who are tired of hate and injustice. We stand with YOU ❤️

9

Today marks the second anniversary of Chris and I being together. The two best years yet of my life. Two years during which she’s made me the happiest I’ve ever been, happier than I knew I even could be. 

It was through both luck and determination that we met and became friends - through tumblr, actually - both of us wanting to be close to the other, and starting a wonderful friendship from opposite sides of Canada. Over the years, we got closer, and then we fell in love, and on April 2nd, 2015, she asked me to be her girlfriend.

In two months, we’re moving in together. 

I never thought I would be lucky enough to love and be loved by someone this amazing and beautiful. We’ve made some fantastic memories since last April - the time frame I chose all these photos from - and I know this year we’re going to make a hell of a lot more. 

I love you, babe ♡