It appears that our brand new step & repeat banner for 5 Under 35 has been the subject of a giant (8? x 8?) Halloween prank.
Blog
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How do you want to be remembered by history: as someone who tried to make the world better for everyone, or better only for yourself?
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As a single mother who once relied on food stamps, Rep. Donna Edwards (D-Md.) didn’t have a trust fund to dip into or wealthy donors pushing her to enter politics. She didn’t have prior political experience before her first campaign for Congress in 2006. But, one morning she woke up and asked herself, “Why not me?” Now she’s hoping to make history again.
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“It’s crucial because the members of our community who are the most vulnerable have and continue to experience a far more difficult time in our society. When the life expectancy of transgender women of colour in this country is 35, and 40% of homeless youth are lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender, we still have so much work to do.” – Ellen Page
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You’d think more than a year after this interaction, people would learn to stop asking female cosmonauts sexist questions. And yet, here we are. Russia is sending an all-female group into space — and not only were they just asked how they’d get by without makeup, but what they’d do without men. They shut it down just as quickly.
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This comic was produced in partnership by Years of Living Dangerously and Symbolia Magazine. For more amazing real life comics, get Symbolia on your iPad or via PDF. And for more information on the biggest story of our time – check out YEARS.
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And in other news
We have many boxes.
Our shipping company brought around the many boxes so that we could work out if we can cram both Rebecca and all our stuff into the shipping container. If we can fit everything we want to take, and the furniture, into the space currently occupied (essentially) by our dining area, then it’ll all go in one container.
If not, then we’ll be getting a container twice the size, which will have sufficient spare space in it that we could probably pack a second car in there. If we had a second car worth taking.
(We don’t, not for the amount of hassle it’d be).
However, what we still don’t have is a contract. We now have confirmation that the buyers solicitor has actually started the searches. It’s only taken them a month.
…and they’ve actually started returning phone calls, which is progress.
I, myself, am swinging wildly between fear about my upcoming exam (monday), and sadness at leaving Bristol (which I love), and excitement about a new adventure in the States.
Oh, and angsting about the money spent on Rebecca (lots), the money I’m not earning because I’m studying (-lots), and worrying about Rebecca being finished in time to take across. We’re looking at this coming Wednesday, hopefully, for ready-date. Which should be plenty of time. But I’d like her to have at least a bit of a ‘shake down’ before we pop her into that container.
Anyhow, it’s all waiting on that contract, we’re poised for full-steam ahead, but not quite able to hit the go button.
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A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life.
Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.this fucks me up every single time
I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.
After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.
She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.
Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.
The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.
The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.
Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.
I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.
This is so fucking important and I think it’s something I needed right now
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In honor of Jewish Women’s Day, here I am. Ashkenazi Jewish and I look it, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have a big nose and dark eyes and black hair, and while I’ve been exoticized and asked intrusive, insulting questions for it, I try my best to love the way I look. Happy impromptu holiday to all my fellow Jewish women!
There is a lot of foliage on my face. From here, you can see where my eyebrow line blends into my hairline, and the more yellow areas on my upper lip signify the growth of black hairs there as well (although I wax those). Black hair also makes a faint Ambrose Burnside pattern on my cheeks, starting from my sideburns on down. Pouchy cheeks, lips that look “off” – for such a long time, I’ve hated the way I looked. There’s less of that now.
Isn’t she beautiful, folks? :) You should see her when she smiles.
