i want a train set i do not care if i am an adult and a female

In 1986, 23 years after the death of Sylvia Plath, 56-year-old Ted Hughes wrote the following letter to their 24-year-old son Nicholas Hughes:

“Dear Nick,

I hope things are clearing. It did cross my mind, last summer, that you were under strains of an odd sort. I expect, like many another, you’ll spend your life oscillating between fierce relationships that become tunnel traps, and sudden escapes into wide freedom when the whole world seems to be just there for the taking. Nobody’s solved it. You solve it as you get older, when you reach the point where you’ve tasted so much that you can somehow sacrifice certain things more easily, and you have a more tolerant view of things like possessiveness (your own) and a broader acceptance of the pains and the losses. I came to America, when I was 27, and lived there three years as if I were living inside a damart sock—I lived in there with your mother. We made hardly any friends, no close ones, and neither of us ever did anything the other didn’t want wholeheartedly to do. (It meant, Nicholas, that meeting any female between 17 and 39 was out. Your mother banished all her old friends, girl friends, in case one of them set eyes on me—presumably. And if she saw me talking with a girl student, I was in court. Foolish of her, and foolish of me to encourage her to think her laws were reasonable. But most people are the same. I was quite happy to live like that, for some years.) Since the only thing we both wanted to do was write, our lives disappeared into the blank page. My three years in America disappeared like a Rip Van Winkle snooze. Why didn’t I explore America then? I wanted to. I knew it was there. Ten years later we could have done it, because by then we would have learned, maybe, that one person cannot live within another’s magic circle, as an enchanted prisoner.

So take this new opportunity to look about and fill your lungs with that fantastic land, while it and you are still there. That was a most curious and interesting remark you made about feeling, occasionally, very childish, in certain situations. Nicholas, don’t you know about people this first and most crucial fact: every single one is, and is painfully every moment aware of it, still a child. To get beyond the age of about eight is not permitted to this primate—except in a very special way, which I’ll try to explain. When I came to Lake Victoria, it was quite obvious to me that in some of the most important ways you are much more mature than I am. And your self-reliance, your independence, your general boldness in exposing yourself to new and to-most-people-very-alarming situations, and your phenomenal ability to carry through your plans to the last practical detail (I know it probably doesn’t feel like that to you, but that’s how it looks to the rest of us, who simply look on in envy), is the sort of real maturity that not one in a thousand ever come near. As you know. But in many other ways obviously you are still childish—how could you not be, you alone among mankind? It’s something people don’t discuss, because it’s something most people are aware of only as a general crisis of sense of inadequacy, or helpless dependence, or pointless loneliness, or a sense of not having a strong enough ego to meet and master inner storms that come from an unexpected angle. But not many people realise that it is, in fact, the suffering of the child inside them. Everybody tries to protect this vulnerable two three four five six seven eight year old inside, and to acquire skills and aptitudes for dealing with the situations that threaten to overwhelm it. So everybody develops a whole armour of secondary self, the artificially constructed being that deals with the outer world, and the crush of circumstances. And when we meet people this is what we usually meet. And if this is the only part of them we meet we’re likely to get a rough time, and to end up making ‘no contact’. But when you develop a strong divining sense for the child behind that armour, and you make your dealings and negotiations only with that child, you find that everybody becomes, in a way, like your own child. It’s an intangible thing. But they too sense when that is what you are appealing to, and they respond with an impulse of real life, you get a little flash of the essential person, which is the child. Usually, that child is a wretchedly isolated undeveloped little being. It’s been protected by the efficient armour, it’s never participated in life, it’s never been exposed to living and to managing the person’s affairs, it’s never been given responsibility for taking the brunt. And it’s never properly lived. That’s how it is in almost everybody. And that little creature is sitting there, behind the armour, peering through the slits. And in its own self, it is still unprotected, incapable, inexperienced. Every single person is vulnerable to unexpected defeat in this inmost emotional self. At every moment, behind the most efficient seeming adult exterior, the whole world of the person’s childhood is being carefully held like a glass of water bulging above the brim. And in fact, that child is the only real thing in them. It’s their humanity, their real individuality, the one that can’t understand why it was born and that knows it will have to die, in no matter how crowded a place, quite on its own. That’s the carrier of all the living qualities. It’s the centre of all the possible magic and revelation. What doesn’t come out of that creature isn’t worth having, or it’s worth having only as a tool—for that creature to use and turn to account and make meaningful. So there it is. And the sense of itself, in that little being, at its core, is what it always was. But since that artificial secondary self took over the control of life around the age of eight, and relegated the real, vulnerable, supersensitive, suffering self back into its nursery, it has lacked training, this inner prisoner. And so, wherever life takes it by surprise, and suddenly the artificial self of adaptations proves inadequate, and fails to ward off the invasion of raw experience, that inner self is thrown into the front line—unprepared, with all its childhood terrors round its ears. And yet that’s the moment it wants. That’s where it comes alive—even if only to be overwhelmed and bewildered and hurt. And that’s where it calls up its own resources—not artificial aids, picked up outside, but real inner resources, real biological ability to cope, and to turn to account, and to enjoy. That’s the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they’re suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. That’s why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember. But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shells—he becomes one of the walking dead, a monster. So when you realise you’ve gone a few weeks and haven’t felt that awful struggle of your childish self—struggling to lift itself out of its inadequacy and incompetence—you’ll know you’ve gone some weeks without meeting new challenge, and without growing, and that you’ve gone some weeks towards losing touch with yourself. The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn’t live boldly enough, that they didn’t invest enough heart, didn’t love enough. Nothing else really counts at all. It was a saying about noble figures in old Irish poems—he would give his hawk to any man that asked for it, yet he loved his hawk better than men nowadays love their bride of tomorrow. He would mourn a dog with more grief than men nowadays mourn their fathers.

And that’s how we measure out our real respect for people—by the degree of feeling they can register, the voltage of life they can carry and tolerate—and enjoy. End of sermon. As Buddha says: live like a mighty river. And as the old Greeks said: live as though all your ancestors were living again through you.”

Source: Letters of Ted Hughes

It’s time to reveal the winners of the Everyday Hero contest we ran in North America earlier this year! The contest asked you to submit a picture and accompanying background information of your very own Everyday Hero, with the first place finalist securing a $10,000 scholarship fund provided by our Everyday Hero Scholarship Fund.

We were absolutely blown away by the amount of amazing entries we received, and were incredibly touched by the many different everyday heroes that were nominated. Many heroes were highlighted for their efforts in their respective workplaces, often for going above and beyond the call of duty or perhaps simply for fulfilling vital but often overlooked roles in today’s society. We saw family members be nominated for their inspiring life stories in the face of, in some cases life threatening, adversities. It was also fantastic to see so many people be nominated for both the great and little things they do in everyday life, their contributions to making the world a better place each and every day. This contest truly demonstrated that there is no one single definition of an everyday hero and that such amazing individuals can come in all shapes and sizes and from all walks of life.

Given the staggering amount of high quality entries, we decided to take a little more time than initially expected to thoroughly work through each and every entry and we really do appreciate your patience over the past few weeks. It was a difficult task picking out the finalists, but we ultimately settled on three submissions… so, without further ado, here are finalists of the Everyday Heroes Scholarship Fund 2016 contest!

First Place and winner of the Everyday Heroes Scholarship Fund 2016 contest:

Everyday Heroes! - Alex L. (Winner)

It was pouring rain! The Austrian volunteers have saved the night by helping a soaked mother and child from freezing and gave them new dry clothes on, so they could again feel comfortable. You are safe now.

“This picture combines perfectly both the core of the “Everyday Heroes” theme and artistic and technical qualities. The play on the looks and gestures of the people captures really tells the story of both the mother and child and the volunteers. We can see that they truly care for those people and commit themselves completely to this job. On the technical side the composition, exposure, sharpness, focus and vibrant colors are really great.”

Second Place:

Be Your Own Ice Cream Flavor - Chloe S.(Finalist)

There is a common weight that all must share to qualify as human. I was not aware of this until recently. I thought the weight assigned to my character was a flaw. I thought I was not sufficient to be a human. This weight can also be known as definition. Some may find his or her own definition through adversity, others may have had a definition made out for him or her from the womb. How one deals with adversity is how he or she builds up a definition. A norm has been cast to ensure many people cope with difficulties in the same way. This creates a problem, boxes. Boxes are a level of definition that can be harmful. Fear is what builds the box and maintains its presence. Some individuals are too scared to tread away from norms, and become anxious or scared. Others have found a way around the obstacle and have truly become individual. The former keeps people very much alike. Those individuals create their own prisons, and some are unable to escape it and find his or her own definitions. Andrew Fine is an Advanced Placement English Language teacher and someone I believe everyone should meet. He is one of the most genuine and kind human beings the world has to offer. Never have I ever been able to trust an adult so wholeheartedly. He was the first person I was able to come out to. He gained the reputation of trust through this disposition; he emulates the type of feeling one would share with an old friend. It is through his class that I was able to realize that I was human. On the first day of my Junior year, I recall him talking about what is wrong with boxes. Men are shoved into the BE A MAN BOX, and women are placed with the GIRL POWER FLOWERS. Typically, there are people to contend with how fundamental boxes are. As a homosexual male he has pushed towards both sides of that spectrum. His gender forced him to comply to the be a man box the first years of his life. It never fit him to do everything traditionally. Mirroring that, there was a threat presented, the parts of the box that did qualify may be stripped from him by individuals who pride themselves on being traditional. From the experiences placed before him Mr. Fine has learned not to hate. This is the second lesson he places upon the class’s shoulders. It is easier to hate than love, but hate festers into more hate for the things one loves. As a man of many talents, Mr. Fine is outstanding. He can make anyone’s day better from simply being a part of it. Whether this is product of his musical talent, writing genius or ability to persevere is beyond me. He might as well be the most sung unsung hero. Somehow, even with having 120 students a year Mr.Fine has found a way to gain a personal connection with each one. It is hard to leave his class without regarding him fondly; beyond that not many people can say he or she knows who he is. I believe that he has helped changed the atmosphere at my school. The students that have participated in his classes have implantations of his ideals on love and equality. We carry these gems with us post-graduation and try to enlighten anyone facing a negative standpoint. This start of inspiration is not something just anyone can do without knowing his or her own definition. I stayed in the Girl Power Flower box for the better years of my life, I deeply hated myself and saw no potential in my being. The energy each individual is granted upon participating in his class is healing; it was enough to fuel my escape. With Mr.Fine’s wisdom I was able to come out with who I am. I know now that I do not have to feel inhuman for not being able to function as a heterosexual female comfortably; I am a human who may define as they wish to. I have Mr.Fine to thank for my life now. My full gratitude goes out to him, he was someone I needed to meet.

“There is a true sense of “slice of life” in this picture, a genuine feeling of looking at a human being that is passionate about his job and his students. The moment is captured perfectly and the smile and expression on the teacher shows all his dedication. The composition is great, framing the teacher between his white board and the raised hands and books of those students captivated by his lesson illustrates in a great way the importance of his vocation.”

Third Place:

A Fighting Chance - Michael S. (Finalist)

My everyday hero comes in the form of two brothers, Edwin and Carlos C., who constantly thrive to support their community through the art of boxing. Their non-profit gym nestled deep within the city of Lawrence, Massachusetts first opened its’ door back in 2008 as a means to keep the youth off the streets. Not just the youth though train here, people from all walks of life come to the gym and are welcomed. The C. brothers work tirelessly to take care of others before themselves ensuring that all those who train at the gym have a healthy and bright future ahead. Through boxing they want people to install themselves with life lessons, to bravely march forward with the knowledge that they can do anything. They both constantly sacrifice their free time to help others, but to them there is no greater satisfaction than giving back. Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, for me Edwin and Carlos C. define what it means to be an everday hero. To inspire and give back without asking for nothing in return. #everydayheroes

“The photographer managed to capture a picture that resonates with his words and captured what he saw in those two people. With the close-up framing we feel ourselves close to the two brothers through this picture. We can feel how important to them are the gym and the people who come here.”

Honorable Mentions:

The Game of Compassion - Anthony C. (Honorable Mention)

In my travels, I met the homeless gentleman playing chess on the right, who’s named Francis. I was intrigued and asked to play a game with him and he happily accepted. I learned that he sets up his chess board there every single day. He teaches others how to play, and during the games he just listens to what they have to say. Everyday he plays countless games and listens to others’ problems. To just listen and spread the love of chess seems to simple, but it’s actually a very powerful thing. He may be homeless, but that’s not stopping him from lending his ears to others. Sometimes all we need is someone to listen to us. To just be able to listen and give others his time when he has nothing else, that makes him my everyday hero. He gives all that he can even with nothing.

This entry is very moving and the story behind it really reached us. The picture is well thought and puts the viewer close to the two protagonists, creating a great “photojournalism” style photo. The only drawback that refrained us to put this entry in the top 3 is that the composition doesn’t isolate well enough the main protagonist, the viewer’s eye is drawn to the tarp to the right or to the noisy wire fencing.

A Small Hand - Jillian D. (Honorable Mention)

My mom is an amazing woman. She has the courage to leave an abusive relationship and become a single parent to four children. Since then, she has been unemployed, gone through a house fire, and struggled with the daily ridicule of her peers. Yet, despite all of this, she still remains the same strong, caring woman who raised me and continues to pass on her loving nature to others.

There is a lot of subtle storytelling in this picture, the movement of the mother while the kid is still hesitating to move shows perfectly the role of the parents, to guide and bring their kids forward in life. It’s a minor issue but we think that the picture would have worked even better without the car in the background, which reduces a bit the readability and importance of the mother.

A Purpose

A SWR Fanfiction

Since the creation of Mira (Sabine and Ezra’s headcanon child), I had to write a little something about her. Just to be clear, in this story, Ahsoka’s not dead, but the crew still assumes so.  I believe you requested a VERY ANGSTY story...reverse psychology… so here it is @hotsam1

After the Rebellion took off, the Empire defeated, Ezra had left. Left behind his Master, his motherly twi’lek pilot, his buddy lasat, his rusty C1-10P unit, and….and Sabine. He just needed some time to think.

Not only about the win, but about the past of loss and pain, and how in the galaxy he would move forward.

He sat in the Phantom II’s cockpit, gazing at the star studded sky. Yes, he felt bad for taking the ship and not being in contact with his crew for over a year, but he needed a break.

He hadn’t stayed in the same place for too long. A few weeks on this planet, a month on this one…

He gave a deep sigh. Now that the fight was over, what was he supposed to do with his life? He lowered his head, meditating always helped.

*Feeling lost, hmm?*

Keep reading



Well, it’s time. 

As most of my followers know, I’ve been raising these two lil kittens since they were born (and chronicling their life under this tag ) and now it’s time for me to start looking for forever homes for them. 

While I cannot feasibly keep them throughout their lives, I’m going to be incredibly picky about who they go to and can afford to care for them until I find suitable homes. They would be free to a loving home, though I am considering charging some sort of vetting fee that would only cover their spay/neuter and set of vaccinations at the lowest cost I could find. I would take them myself and provide receipts/invoice of the vetting.  

I’m looking for homes that could:

-(Preferably) adopt them together, though they would be fine in separate homes as well

-Keep them indoor only with supervised outdoor time (they’re harness trained for a reason)

-Provide a safe home with no cat-aggressive cats/dogs/people

-Provide regular/as needed veterinary care (and flea control!)

-Keep them at a reasonable weight (TRUST ME you don’t want a diabetic senior cat if it’s at all preventable) 

-Love them unconditionally for the next 10-18 years of their lives. 

If you are not confident that you can absolutely do these things that’s okay, but these kittens are not for you. 

Interested? Here are some things you should know:

-Hazel is the tortoiseshell female, Badger is the mostly black male. They respond to their names.

-They really like napping anywhere near/on top of people.

-They’re litter trained.

-They’re harness trained (though they’re still a tad small for store-bought harnesses and the outside is still a scary place most of the time. We’re working on it).

-They’ve grown up with other cats and dogs and while wary of them, have no issues with dogs

-I’m going to require they be spayed/neutered before/asap after adoption.

-I have all of their vet records and will provide copies to whomever adopts them.

-They’ve been de-wormed (Pyrantel Pamoate) and treated for coccidia (Albon/Marquis paste) and had their first fvrcp booster at 8 weeks, two days. 

-I work as a vet tech and will be more than willing to help you out with any questions about their vetting/health before/after adoption.

-They’ve been on blue buffalo wilderness/purina pro plan dry kitten kibble and a mix of the occasional science diet/iams/purina pro plan wet kitten food since being weaned. 

-They’d come with any toys/towels/food/litter I have for them. 

-I’m looking for adopters in the Central Florida area (that is where I am), though I’d be willing to drive an hour or two out of the way for the right home. 

-I don’t want to stick in any return/refund clause, but if for any reason after adoption things just aren’t working out, please contact me before re-homing them and I’ll take them back. Within a reasonable amount of time I will also refund any money associated with their spay/neuter.

I’ve had these guys since day one. They were dropped off in a shoe box at work with their umbilical cords still attached. They were so weak they couldn’t even eat. They most likely never had any of their mother’s milk, so their immune systems aren’t as great as they could be (hence the strictly indoor stipulation). They had to be tube-fed for the first two weeks of their lives. They’ve survived horrible bacterial infections and never once gave up. I have held Hazel in my hands as her body was trying desperately not to shut down. I have syringe-fed her 3cc of formula at a time every hour, on the hour, day and night, for three days. They’ve been poked with more needles than most adult humans. And they’re alive and healthy and happy and deserve the best homes I can find. 

I am an individual person using my personal funds to care for these kittens. I am not a rescue group and am not directly affiliated with one. I will make no monetary profit in this. 

Questions? Want more information? Know anyone who might be interested? Feel free to contact me at lr.rogers@hotmail.com (put something about kittens in the subject).

Any reblogs would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Fic: Betrothed (1/?) | (EruRen) dedicated to rovescio

Title: Betrothed

Dedicated to: rovescio (i.e. the baller in charge of Eruren)

Rating: 13+ (for now, will be Explicit soon enough)

Warnings: Arranged Marriage | Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics | Canon divergence | (eventual) underage smut

Summary: Erwin Smith, the 13th Commander of the Survey Corps and textbook definition of Alpha, has come to make good on an arranged marriage contract with one Eren Jaeger, the most anti-Omega that ever did walk the earth.

Author Notes: So, I was that obnoxious Anon asking you all of those questions about Eruren kinks. You made me ship these two SO HARD and I wanted to return the favor. I’m sorry it’s a work in progress and that I made a half-assed attempt at plot, but eh that’s just how my brain works sometimes. I promise smut is on the way. Sorry if it’s terrible. ^^

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you like Scandal anymore?

No. Let me explain. I came for the innovative and the historical first in this generation with a polished, educated, black female lead, not the usual stereotyped characterization. No, I was not looking for a magical nigress (rubbish concept if there ever was one), but a multi-dimensional person. What I mean by this is, a flawed, yet compelling human being and her universe (work, love, and life in general). Over the span of three seasons she has become, because of a headwriter’s personal agenda, a bi-polar, nonsensical twit. I have been watching her devolving simply to prop up unworthy tertiary characters whom the more I see, the more I loathe and recognize their lack of skills, further pulling me away from the show.

The savvy political drama I was expecting with just a hint of sex appeal, has turned into a turgid soap opera with very little politics, and really shitty characterizations. The story telling and lack of continuity leaves much to be desired on a weekly basis. You see the showrunner has committed the most cardinal of sins.

She knows nothing about characters and their motivations. In fact, it seems not a major concern of hers. She would rather write what she deems - SHOCKING AND INTERESTING (perhaps to a perverse ameoba with no home training) in order to do that, she uses the actors as props to her “MINDBLOWING” situations and not the other way around.

See a gifted story teller begins with character - what makes them tick and out of that the story is told and through the story, we learn about who and or what is the compunction of the character. Shonda Rhimes, being mediocre, has this backwards and hence the devolution of the series. Ah yes, and there is another point that is salient.

All GREAT memorable stories is a juxtaposition of GOOD and EVIL, they are the cardinal points of all GREAT stories. That is what pulls us in, as well as LOVE. She exists in a miasma of grey and yes, the world is mainly grey, but for someone to care about a story, there has to be that thing that you will not pass, you will not do, the thing striven for. She nullifies this at ever turn. She has no moral compass and that is essential.

Without a moral compass you think it just ducky to have a best friend choked the shit out of another character and think that is just shits and giggles - effectively severing the bond. Without a moral compass, you think it ducky that a man can throw a woman across a room, crack her skull and use her as a personal shield and yet no recourse, no thought yes let’s try to force a relationship down a fandom’s throat and ill affect the ratings because I feel like it. What? Yes, all of this done to the lead, the protagonist in the story.  I could go on but I won’t.

The lack of continuity is also exceptionally bothersome. The show has become very much about nothing, just wash rinse and repeat and the greatest crime committed is to story telling and history deferred in the lack of appropriate use of the BLACK female lead. So much on a subtle level could have been done here. Questions asked through script, without the wailing and gnashing of teeth…just put out there allowing for rather interesting discourse. Yes, I am severely disappointed. I expected  intelligent entertainment.

Even the tertiary characters I once found compelling (Cyrus, Sally, Quinn, Harrison, Holling etc.) have become shades of their former selves.

Now back to your question. It is no longer must watch television. Other shows have taken its place. It is something now that I do not set up the bowl of popcorn and screwdriver to watch with hubby on the couch and glare when anyone makes a sound in the room. It is something I catch up on MAYBE on the weekend and the only two entities that make me do that are Olivia and Fitz and they currently annoy the shit out of me by the pubertal writing ascribed to them. They are adults, intelligent adults and yet, this cretin has them acting like teens and all because she hasn’t the spine to move them forward as a couple.

My original purpose for watching is almost gone. Olivia, a most intelligent woman is spiraling into a waste of space who regurgitates lines with no follow through not 15 minutes later into the show.

Yes I am disappointed in the turn this little show that could is moving towards. If it doesn’t change it is toast. I want it to succeed, so I watch with very little hope that it will eventually, under different leadership, turn a corner and find its greatness.

I am here for the lead and her paramour and nothing else…and even that, given a little more time will be insufficient.

Aren’t you sorry you asked? LOL