I 100% think that if you went inside, you would walk into a normal sized one. It would be seemingly normal, with everyday employees and shoppers. And you’d wander around and almost forget the weird beginning of this adventure, buy a DVD, and then step back out into this field.
when i was a little girl, every book was my favorite book. but one of my most-requested bedtime stories was We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. as a family of four goes, as the title suggests, on a ‘bear hunt’, they encounter several obstacles. however, long wavy grass, a deep cold river, a big dark forest, and many other roadblocks prove no match for the characters. each time they are forced to stop they consider turning around, and they look around for some other way, any other way. and each time, they reach the same conclusion: “we can’t go over it. we can’t go under it. oh no! we’ve got to go through it!”
there is a twitter moments compilation of Day 1 in ‘Trump’s America’ and it is my worst nightmare come to life. people are having their headscarves torn off of their heads, being teased that they’re getting deported, being taunted about the impending overturn of the legality of their marriages, waking up to vandalism and threatening messages. i know that a lot of people who voted for Donald Trump did not do so because they are racist/sexist/xenophobic/whatever or because he is. however, whether intended or not, and whether one likes it or not, there is no denying that Donald Trump’s candidacy and election has brought a very scary and hateful part of our population out of the wood work. people are terrified, and the prevalence of hate speech and hate crimes since election day is validation of that. my friends who wear hijabs don’t know if their religio-cultural traditions will be a threat to their safety. my friends who use birth control are frantically researching IUDs, because they can outlast a presidential term. my friends who are queer are living in a country that elected a vice president who believes in shocking them until they turn straight. my friends who are trans are painfully uncertain of if or how they will continue to get the hormones they need. people are scared, and it is not for no reason. it is insulting and willfully ignorant to suggest otherwise.
i have seen a lot of posts telling people like me to suck it up, to move on, to stop being crybabies. to that i say, i would love to stop crying. i would love to be able to talk to my best friend without being reminded of sitting next to him on election night as my world seemingly fell apart. i would love to be able to keep full meals down, and sleep well at night. but my feelings are my feelings, and the thing about feelings is they demand to be felt. republicans have gained control of the white house, both houses of congress, and soon the supreme court. they have not, however, gained control of my emotions. i will probably be angry and hurt and nauseous for a long time. and it is in everyone’s best interests to let me.
grief is an interesting thing, and one i have been better acquainted with in my young life than desired. for better or for worse, life has afforded me a bit of an expertise on the subject. it is a long road to acceptance and healing, and it is not the same from person to person. it’s not pretty. but it is necessary. if people really want to see this country re-unite and if people really want to see this country heal, they have to know it will be a long, ugly, slow-moving process. brushing these feelings under the rug is in no one’s best interest. like a broken bone that doesn’t heal properly, or a wound that didn’t get the necessary treatment to begin with, expecting people to quick-fix their pain in the wake of this election is inviting that pain to fester into something much worse, and much more destructive in the future. understand that allowing us to feel our pain full force is our best bet for a tomorrow where we can be stronger together.
this election outcome and the subsequent heartache/uncertainty/fear has been, for myself and for others, our own big dark forest. it would be nice to circumvent it, but we don’t have that luxury. so while there is a lot i could say, want to say, probably at some point will say about this election, today i am saying this: stop telling people to get over it. like long wavy grass, we can’t go over it. we can’t go under it. we’ve got to go through it.
The project, called Warmest Winter, comes from a recent partnership between the rapper and Detroit nonprofit the Empowerment Plan. The initiative aims to bring
the coats to Chicago by asking donors to help support the manufacturing
of the coats. Each coat costs $100 to “sponsor.” The incredible progress they’ve already made will warm your heart.
Why is it that people are willing to spend $20 on a bowl of pasta with sauce that they might actually be able to replicate pretty faithfully at home, yet they balk at the notion of a white-table cloth Thai restaurant, or a tacos that cost more than $3 each? Even in a city as “cosmopolitan” as New York, restaurant openings like Tamarind Tribeca (Indian) and Lotus of Siam (Thai) always seem to elicit this knee-jerk reaction from some diners who have decided that certain countries produce food that belongs in the “cheap eats” category—and it’s not allowed out. (Side note: How often do magazine lists of “cheap eats” double as rundowns of outer-borough ethnic foods?)
Yelp, Chowhound, and other restaurant sites are littered with comments like, “$5 for dumplings?? I’ll go to Flushing, thanks!” or “When I was backpacking in India this dish cost like five cents, only an idiot would pay that much!” Yet you never see complaints about the prices at Western restaurants framed in these terms, because it’s ingrained in people’s heads that these foods are somehow “worth” more. If we’re talking foie gras or chateaubriand, fair enough. But be real: You know damn well that rigatoni sorrentino is no more expensive to produce than a plate of duck laab, so to decry a pricey version as a ripoff is disingenuous. This question of perceived value is becoming increasingly troublesome as more non-native (read: white) chefs take on “ethnic” cuisines, and suddenly it’s okay to charge $14 for shu mai because hey, the chef is ELEVATING the cuisine.
The crows she feeds obviously have their own little lives. They go about their business, and they spot *pretty thing* or /unique thing/ in question. What gets me is that the *first* thing on their minds as recipient of this thing is the little girl that feeds them.
They spot a thing, and immediately must think, “that nice girl with delicious foodstuffs must have this to show my gratitude.”
It’s actually more than that, though, if you read the articles or watch the videos. This has taken place over YEARS- it started with these birds following this little girl around because she was a messy eater and it has turned into a ritual for the family. They have a water station and food stations where they daily set out things for these birds and sometimes (but not always), these birds leave ‘payment’ behind for the food.
BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE
These birds are not just taking food and leaving shinies. These birds are watching over this family now. Their lives have become involved. These crows are keeping track of this girl and her mother even when they are out of the yard. How do we know?
One of them is a photographer, and one day while she was photographing some stuff on a bridge, she dropped her camera’s lenscap over the edge. There was no way she could get it back, so she left it. When she got home, the lenscap was sitting on the edge of one of the feeding stations, waiting for her.
Not only were the birds following and watching over her, they were smart enough to realize she dropped an Important Thing and cared enough to bring it back to her.
sometimes, when i want to really treat myself, i turn my phone brightness up juust a little bit. i feel like i’m splurging. like i’m living a king’s life. sometimes i turn it up all the way and i’m like, “this is what god’s phone screen looks like.”
YO OKAY SO I WAS IN THE DIAMOND DISTRICT IN NYC JUST CASUALLY WINDOW SHOPPING AND SHIT, YOU KNOW, THE USUAL,
WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN THIS FUCKING THING CATCHES MY EYE.
THIS. FUCKING. THING.
ITS AS BIG AS MY FUCKING HAND AND ITS MADE OF REAL MUFUCKIN DIAMONDS AND GOLD.
THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR PEOPLE. LOOK WHAT YOUVE DONE.
THIS IS WHAT THE WORLD HAS COME TO.
FUCK.
Right? Only? When I read this book in the first grade it felt like she was ancient. But damn less than 60 years ago schools were still segregated
I double checked her age in case this was an old post still floating around tumblr, but it is correct. She turned 62 yesterday (9/8/16).
Excuse me while I go try to wrap my mind around this now…
