cher aint never lie
the electoral college sucks
“the electoral college is necessary!”
no it’s not. it sucks.
“without it, only 4 or 5 huge cities would determine elections!”
yes.
because that’s where people live.
that’s how population density works, deborah.
Grief is a part of love. No part of love should get brushed off or dismissed like it’s nothing.
Megan Devine, www.refugeingrief.com (via tamikaflynned)
This gravestone from 1875 reads:
“Kate McCormick, Seduced and pregnant by her father’s friend, Unwed she died from abortion, her only choice, Abandoned in life and death by family, With but a single rose from her mother, Buried only through the kindness of an unknown benefactor, Died February 1875, age 21, Victim of an unforgiving society, Have mercy on us.”
THIS is why we need to keep abortion legal and accessible to everyone who wants or needs one. We have the tools and knowledge to keep abortions safe and we can’t let ourselves regress in the medical field. FYI if someone wants an abortion, they’re going to get it by any means necessary.
The last two lines gave me chills.
I’m pro-hoe, pro-prude, pro-sex-on-the-first-date, pro-only-with-a-partner, pro-no-sex-until-marriage. Pro-your-body-your-rules.
A free knitting pattern from ash alberg. From the Ravelry notes:
the next period of american/global history is not going to be easy, to say the least. i wanted to figure out some way to help, something that wouldn’t feel like i was taking advantage of a terrible situation to push sales.
knitting is my therapy. it’s also my business, and many of you know i rarely offer free patterns. i offer this pattern for anyone who needs some knitting therapy though – please feel free to use it for yourself, or to teach a class, or to make cozy toques for activists on the front lines (like the water protectors at standing rock).
in lieu of payment, i ask that you consider donating money if you are able to a charity instead that is doing work to help those most affected – immigrants, queers, bipoc, climate change warriors, women. it will come as no surprise when those groups start to see their funding slashed, and our community support for them will matter even more than it does now.
the love between the ocean and the moon if that’s too vague? <3 i always love your writing and you are always so great. <3
The moon asked the sun, “What do you know of love?”
“It burns,” said the sun. “It brightens. It is something you make and then give away.”
“Don’t listen to him,” said the clouds. “This big ball of gas doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Yes, I do,” said the sun. “Who but me makes the roses grow?”
“We do,” said the clouds. “Love nourishes, like the rain. We turn the hills green and fill the creeks so they will sing in their creekbeds.”
“Why do you ask?” said the sun.
“I think I might be in love,” said the moon. “I am trying to understand.”
So the moon went and looked at the deserts. They were dry and hot and empty. “See?” said the clouds. But the deserts were still beautiful.
And so the moon went and looked at the creeks in their beds, and they were cool and wet and full. And they were beautiful too.
“What do you think?” the moon asked the sky. “I want to know if I am in love.”
“Ask the earth,” said the sky, and so the moon asked the earth.
“The clouds cover me,” said the earth. “They make me bloom. The sun warms me. Without them I would be cold and dry.”
“You would be ugly without them. That is love?”
“I would be cold and dry,” said the earth, “but not ugly. You are cold and dry, my little one, and you are beautiful.”
“Not like you,” said the moon. “Not like the ocean.”
“No one is like me. No one is like you,” said the earth.
“I feel loveliest when she holds my light,” said the moon.
“Who is it that you love, my child? What kind of love do you wish?”
“Are there different kinds?” the moon asked.
“The sun warms me and pulls me in. The clouds cover me, when they remember. The sky turns every color for me. How do you and yours love?”
“We dance,” said the moon, and they knew she meant the ocean. “I push and she pulls. I rise and set, she rises and ebbs. She pushes, I pull. We go around and around and I watch her tides and I do not think I will ever tire of calling her beautiful. Is that love?”
“It is only your own reflection you see on the ocean’s surface,” scoffed the clouds. “It is like when the sun sets, and calls us beautiful, but it is only his own colors he loves.”
“I love her even when I shine no light,” said the moon. “Maybe I love her most then.”
“You only love her because she follows where you lead,” said the sun.
“It is a dance,” said the moon.
“It is self-centered,” said the clouds. “Bossy. Mean.”
“She is the heart of my orbit,” said the moon. “I will live my life by her until she is gas and I am dust and the universe is cold and dead.”
And the sun and the clouds were quiet and went away, and the stars came out from where they had been listening.
“Is this love?” said the moon.
“You are not asking the right people,” said the stars.
“I have asked the sun, who burns,” said the moon. “I have asked the clouds, who cover. I have asked the sky, who stays forever. I have asked the earth, who made me.”
“But have you asked the ocean, who loves you?” said the stars.
“Oh,” said the moon.
And so the moon went down to the ocean and asked, “Is this love?”
And the ocean said, “Yes.”
As small as the world 