You think Jackie's relationship with Pam was always the same?
It depends on the Pam we are talking about.
Season 1 Pam: I think Jackie admires her and would want to be like her to some degree. She stills seems to be an absent parent, but at least the way she talks during that one episode we saw her, she didn’t seem mean and rude as the other Pam would.
I don’t think their relationship would had been that bad, but again: still an absent mother.
Season 6 Pam: She’s a mess. She abandoned Jackie and uses people like objects, not to mention she’s empty and shallow, and Jackie probably doesn’t ant to end up like her. She may be beautiful and have half the world solved to her feet because of that, but she’s so not what Jackie has become at this point and so not what she may want to be.
The fact that Pam abandoned her and treated her like crap when she came back is also a strong reason for Jackie to be mad at her, so I think maybe their relationship was always not so good.
People will literally reward the mediocrity of men over the greatness women in the same field. Tonight’s episode of DWTS was a perfect example of this. You have 3 incredible dancers - Normani, Simone, and Heather - be in the bottom 3 yet you have 3 incredibly mediocre-at-best male dancers.
Seriously America. Fucking get it right once in a while. Also Len can choke and leave this plane of existence.
so i’m sure the
remake of a timeless classic that disney is about to roll out is
going to be great and all
but here’s another
way we could do things:
he’s the beauty
she’s the beast
for a movie who’s
central theme is inner beauty, it doesn’t really do anything to support that,
you know? so how about this: adam, our prince turned beast, isn’t an
inhospitable monster. because this back story doesn’t make any sense – why is the young prince of this
land alone, in a castle, only to be caught unaware by a witch?
so how about this –
this is pseudo france, right, so these royals do what their real life
counterparts did. they flee. the cruel, greedy king and queen flee and leave
their young son behind with their staff. their son who is kind and soft hearted
and totally unfit to rule any kingdom (never mind that they’re literally
running away from their own people). not only that – they trade their son for
their freedom, trade their kingdom for their freedom. to the witch.
so the witch comes,
and she doesn’t disguise herself as a crone, goes to him looking as lovely and
young as her magic keeps her. but our prince adam has a talent, one many
cast-aside, neglected children have developed – the ability to see people for
who they really are, and he knows this is no kind young woman in need of his help. he refuses to let her in – and there’s
this little twist to the magic, that she can only enter the palace grounds and claim
her prize if she’s welcomed in a as a guest, and he, the young master of this
castle, won’t let her in.
Mmk. So what if art becomes one of the Earth’s best defences?
Let me explain. So I’m going off of the “They weren’t counting on bears” and it’s many variations and additions. So in this post, our earth flora and fauna defend us from invaders, right? Well what if aliens have a difficult time distinguishing between statues and paintings from real objects, people, animals, whatever. At least, the realistic stuff, that is.
What if the urge to create something that looks like something real, or to make mythical things seem real with marks on a page, or molded metal, or carved rock is something distinctly human. What if it’s something aliens have never encountered before?
To be fair, we are quite good at it. If you’ve ever seen images of sidewalk art that mess with distortion to create the illusion that it’s three dimensional, then you probably agree.
Maybe some kid runs behind a huge lion statue to try and avoid getting shot while running from some alien patrol, and the patrol suddenly stops in their tracks before retreating. The kid realises what happened and runs off to tell the others. Suddenly those gargoyles and winged lions protecting museums become more relevant than ever before. They become our guardians again. Artists begin to crank out statues and paint walls bursting with animals. Engineers join in the fun and work together with artists to create uncanny, moving replicas of moose, leopards, and what have you. Then they begin to make dragons, Griffins, and dinosaurs. The aliens can’t tell which are real and which are fake.
Young Adult Teen Boy Protagonist: But…But I’m a nerd. I’m in a math class. I’ve watched Star Wars. I went to a library in the first chapter… And she’s the quirky new girl in school who likes poetry and old music from the 80′s and isn’t at all conventionally attractive but always gets hit on and is probably going to be played by Emma Watson in the movie. Sure, she has some major flaws; like being clumsy or having too many freckles, but how am I ever going to compete with the fundamentally unlikable and abusive jock boy that she likes for no apparent reason but to create an obstacle for me in the plot?
Friend of the Protagonist Who’s the Most Painful Closeted Cis Gay Stereotype Ever Created and Will Eventually get a One and a Half Page Coming Out Scene: You’re quiet, you’re basically nondescript in almost every conceivable way; you’re a total catch! But–But don’t get the wrong idea, it’s not like I think you’re hot! I’m not gay or anything!
Other Friend of the the Protagonist Who is Non-White in Some Way: Yeah Kirk, everything’s gonna be swag. Just deadass chill, homie.
Let’s face it, many of us modern witches don’t have time in the day to be hanging out with elder witches and doing rituals with our schedules. Because of this, we may feel disconnected from our craft over time. These are some simple ways to work your magick into your everyday life!
Sigils are one of the most basic fundamentals in your craft, and eventually will become a part of your day naturally. Draw sigils onto everyday objects in places people don’t typically notice and charge them. Just be sure to either remember where they are or make a note so you can recharge them at a later time. Sometimes I will actually skip this bit and leave a crystal that charges sigils on its own in the room instead!
Make some of your own bath salts in larger quantities on your time off (given they will not spoil) and store them in jars. Make sure you have something that will not break to store them in. Having a glass jar hit the tub floor probably won’t end well. Make the salts with ingredients that correspond to your desired intention, then label the jars with that intention so you know which salt you want to use later!
Create some blessings to say before meals. They can be quick, simple blessings consisting of a few words or long, planned out blessings. Be sure to write them down!
Studying practically consumes my life at this point, so taking time to practice my craft is a pretty big sacrifice for what little time I do have. I work witchcraft into my everyday life by blessing the materials I study with (such as pens, calculators, paper, etc.) so that I all of my hard work pays off! It’s a great way to save time.
As always, feel free to reblog and comment how you guys work witchcraft into your every day life. Blessed Be Dearies!
Women are not made to be men’s playthings, solely for their pleasure to cater to their every whim and fulfill their filthiest fantasies. We are not toys automated to satisfy. We are not posable dolls unopposing every proposition. Don’t think you can come and go as you please, with us staying mute on your disrespectful disregard and shortcomings.
You aren’t entitled to anything of ours, no matter how much you have invested—imagined or otherwise. We reserve the right to change our minds at any given time. We don’t owe anything, not even an explanation. If we do give you one, don’t contort our words into unrecognizable proportions; don’t belittle our beliefs; don’t apply undue pressure that would make even the sweetest of us have to fight to resist kicking you where the most damage could be done.
Take note: women can be just as fiery, fierce, fickle, furious, frustrated, frustrating as any man. And any man who can’t see that should just keep his backwards opinion (and hands) to himself!
Capricorn: You’re often seen as an irresistible force and an immovable object. People put you in charge because you’re decisive — you’re famous for having a great sense of realism. When others need a rational head in a crisis, they call on you. In personal relationships, some friends will stand in line to unload their problems on you; others avoid you because they think your outlook is too downbeat. Everyone agrees that it’s difficult to divert you from your course when you’ve set a goal. Some people feel that in order to find the real you they have to strip away layers of secrecy, but most understand that your aloofness stems from a deep sense of personal privacy.
Aquarius: You’re often regarded as slightly eccentric — not necessarily strange, but certainly an independent character, a kind of daredevil with an unusual way of looking at things. People consider you a pathfinder, a member of the real avant-garde. They think you have a wicked sense of humor, an ability to shock and amuse at the same time. They know you’re open to new ideas, especially when these ideas are yours. People are drawn to your friendliness and enthusiasm, but they withdraw quickly when you turn acid-tongued. Sometimes, because you need so much personal freedom, you give the impression of being uncaring or distant. Those around you may also become annoyed at your stubbornness.
Probably one of the biggest arguments I see being used against astrology is the Barnum effect. Basically, it’s an effect that states that people are naturally inclined to believe in general, vague descriptions that can apply to everyone.
The people who make this argument get so smug because they think, “It’s true, the astrological descriptions are all so vague and applicable to everyone, so therefore, it’s bullshit!” when really, they don’t know what they’re talking about.
If you look at your natal chart, you’ll see that all of the signs are present. You are supposed to feel all of the signs resonating within you. When you read those vague Sun sign descriptions, they should ideally resonate somehow in some way. If you don’t, you have an interception, and interceptions can feel quite painful for anyone who has one in their natal chart since it shows an imbalance of the signs.
The people who make this argument also argue on the assumption that astrology was supposed to be extremely accurate, in an objective sense. What these skeptics don’t realize is that astrology is a subjective subject, and that accuracy, or the truth is truly a subjective idea when humans have different biases and perceptions due to their complexities. If accuracy was so objective, why do people still have arguments to this day? If accuracy, or the truth, was so objective, wouldn’t everybody know about it to where no conflicts would occur? Of course, this wouldn’t happen because the subjectivity of the truth is connected to our uniqueness as an individual.
Astrology was not and will never be an objective subject in its essence. If astrology was objective at all, it would be for the sake of existing and mental understanding. After all, you can’t objectify the human personality, and people who generally take an objective stance will struggle to understand that.
Astrology isn’t vague because it’s inaccurate, it’s vague because it takes the essence of life into account. Astrology is a subject that realizes that random circumstances, environments, and events all come into play when it comes to the individual. Take the variables away, and you’ll see a warped, incorrect picture of life.
they say grief is a well. deep with creeping water that seeps first into your socks. it climbs like ivy, making an abandoned building out of your bones.
i can see it. the well, i mean, the grief and the water and the creeping. i can see it.
i think grief is more like a storm. clouds that hug the horizon, caress the sky with fingers that leave bruises the colour of the skin under your eyes when you haven’t slept for a week.
lightning bolts that illuminate the shapes in the dark for just long enough that you get to see remnants of a normal life, picnic blankets not abandoned to rain, beaches covered with sand and not hail, but the light never lasts.
and thunder. thunder that drowns out the sound of laughter. thunder that only knows how to emphasise the gaps of quiet in between each earth shaking sigh.
they say that grief is a well, it collects in your chest and fills and spills over as the walls wage war with the water. i can see it. i can. but my grief is more like a storm where lightning likes to strike the same place a thousand times each day.
Is this the way things have always been? The question is always nestled in the back of your mind, smile carefully in place as you nod along with someone’s conversation. You don’t know who they are - their face feels familiar, but the list of remembered names in your mind is very small. You stare at their cracked lips, trying to commit their words to memory. You wonder if they had ever used chapstick, and just as that thought bubbled to the surface, time slipped sideways. You awake from your dream to find seconds have passed, countless words lost in the haze of existing and you look up at the person speaking. “I’m sorry,” you say, with that careful smile painted delicately across your face, “Could you repeat that?” They do, but the words slide like quicksilver in and out of your ears, darting just long enough to hear, but not long enough to understand. You blink, trying to remember, but that moment is gone as if it had never happened. They are already talking about something else, addressing you by name, but their own name remains lost. Conversations flow like a river around you, snatches of meaning caught here and there, but holding onto conversations is like trying to dam a stream with a bucket. You learn to scoop down as quickly as you can, snatching just enough context to divine meaning.
Is this the way things have always been? The light bulb needs to be changed. There are two bulbs, one broken, one not. The room is dim, but not so dim that it is untreadable. You see the light bulb, and it registers as something that Needs To Be Done. You look down to the warm mug in your hands, and consider that to change the bulb, you need to have your hands free. And the thought is gone, the significance of room dimness lost as your thoughts fizz like static to wrap around the mug’s heat. You find the mug the next day, left on the corner of your desk, drained of coffee. The room’s dimness is remembered, but you should take care of that mug first, right? It could mold. By the time you place the mug in the sink, your thoughts are already occupied by dish soaps and lipid breakdowns, and the bulb lies forgotten, nestled dead against the ceiling.
One morning, neither bulb turns on, and you navigate the kitchen by the light of your cell phone before work. That night, you use your cell phone again, because you’ve forgotten where the bulbs are, and need to get gas to get to the store. The next night and the night after that, you ate early enough in the day that light bulbs weren’t needed, so the deadness never registered as a problem. At the end of the week, your hunger draws you to the kitchen late in the evening, but it’s too late in the day to go to the store - they won’t be open. When the problem of the bulb is not in front of you - is not making an active nuisance of itself, it’s like it doesn’t even exist. Nothing in this world exists, when it’s not in front of you.
Is this the way things have always been? “You’re so good at traveling!” your coworker said, “Aren’t you homesick?” Belatedly, you realize that you’ve been away from home for a week and a half. Each day seems like an individual lifetime. They flow back-to-back never quite related, for all their similarities. Like picking up a new novel every morning, each set of problems is unique to that situation. Like picking up a new novel every morning, the previous book’s worries shed like water. They’re not here anymore, so they don’t matter. “Do your parents know you’re in California?” No, you think to yourself, I haven’t talked to them in months. It’s not any malice or dislike that stops you from calling, and that’s what frightens you, a little. You’d be happy talking to them, but you just…. Forgot. Like all things, when they aren’t in front of you: They just don’t seem to exist.
Is this the way things have always been?
“You know I was only joking!” I didn’t, you think to yourself, forcing a titter of agreeable laughter. Every word, unless emphasized deeply with emotive gestures and tonal changes, seems genuine. Flat-faced delivery of falsehoods always rings true to your ears. It takes effort to remember to parse out people’s wording - their delivery - and compare it against their previously stated opinions and choices. It takes effort to remember to analyze again and again and again and again, until every conversation is a minefield of potential missteps, drawing close a handful of responses that could be interpreted a hundred different ways. At least with those, you can play along. “How come you’re being so quiet?” It’s exhausting to dance the dance of smalltalk, when your feet just seem unable to develop that muscle memory. So every conversation becomes mechanical, automatic, words filtering through keyword searches and tonal registers to find the ‘correct’ response that is both situationally appropriate, not emotionally hurtful, and hopefully accurate enough not to elicit guilt. Like all automations, It doesn’t always work. Like all machines, it doesn’t feel real. The people of the world seem like a thousand NPCs, all demanding answers from an endless multiple-choice list of dialogue options. Humans become something like obsticals, and conversations like challenges, fights waged with memorized expressions and rote responses. You become accustomed to spitting back wisdom from books and television shows written by actual people, in the hopes that their words can make your forced empathy seem real. None of it feels real.
Is this the way things have always been? “Do you have a crush on anyone?” Should I? Sexual and Romantic relationships burn brightly, all-consuming while they last. Obsessive is a word fit for the hungry hoarding of dragons, and the vicious consuming of ghosts. It is an accurate adjective for your heart. While things are here they are all that exist. While things are elsewhere they may as well have never existed at all. It applies to tasks, To objects, To people, To relationships. To your own emotions.
Existence itself remains a fleeting experience of not-quite-real spaces. Each moment feeling the most important thing you’ve ever done, yet once that moment passed it leaves only the briefest of marks on your heart or memory. Often the memory slides away completely, leaving nothing but the memories of others, and whatever few pictures were taken. Your self exists eternally on the outskirts of other peoples lives, recollection of what you’re like always reminded by pictures and stories told by friends. That perfect, careful smile painted delicately across your face slips to neutrality when alone. You simply consume the world, experience it, and let it go again. An eternal catch-and-release, where there is no fish more important than the one caught in your gaze NOW.
Is this the way things have always been?
And will always be.
Your mind is a Liminal Space, and the world around you can only briefly visit.