do you ever look around at the big crowds of people around you and realize everyone has a story and memories and family and troubles and achievements and a first kiss and a broken heart but you’ll never know any of it and every human life is really intricate and expansive but oh they’ve walked into a shop and you’ll never see them again and you’ll never know just what they were thinking
I think about this a lot
There’s a word for this:
How do I English today?? How??
(stares into space trying to remember a word for a definition she should know)
Right, so, first and foremost: y’all should know that this is about as close as I ever get to an angry screed! But it’s an angry screed in the name of positivity, so that’s something, right?
Here’s the deal: today I saw a post—a series of posts, in fact—positing that the overall quality of the work available at the Ao3 was decreasing, and arguing that there had been at one point a mission of “quality control” at that archive (which, for the record, there never was). I am not linking to those posts, because more capable and knowledgeable people than I have already responded to them, and because, at the end of the day, those posts aren’t really what this post is about. The post is about the increase I’ve seen in comments like this, about the folks I see mocking “badfic,” about the sense of betrayal people seem to feel if a piece of fanfiction is not up to their individual standards, about the rather shocking volume of people who seem to have come to the conclusion that fandom exists for their personal pleasure. Which, don’t get me wrong—fandom does exist for the pleasure of fans. But it’s a collective thing, with each individual contributing to the whole, and the degree to which that knowledge seems to have slipped—along with the remembrance of the fact that every handle represents a living, breathing human being whose importance is not hinged on the quality of their fanworks—is starting to freak me out.
And to all newbie writers or artists out there:
If you have courage to post something for the first time, any work at all, and you tried your best on it, put your heart into it… I don’t care if it’s a stick person or a self-insert fic with magical healing sex and Mary Sues galore… you are amazing and brave for posting it. And if anyone ever gives you hate, they are dicks. You are a wonderful and creative human being who took time to share your talent. Life can get tiring, it really can, but that you found some inspiration and nourished it, took time to develop it and share it is truly inspiring. Keep creating. In the times where its hard for other writers to find inspiration, but you keep going, I love you for it.
I’m sure many of you have heard of the man who recently ran into the White House grounds and made it into the actual White House, right? Well, look at the following quotes from The Washington Post explaining why the Secret Service didn’t immediately shoot him:
So basically, if a man BREAKING INTO THE WHITE HOUSE doesn’t get shot, as long as he even seems like he’s unarmed (he wasn’t; he was carrying a knife), then how can Officer Wilson justify shooting an unarmed Mike Brown in Ferguson? I mean, if the goddamn Secret Service isn’t trigger-happy with potential assassins of the president, then how can Wilson explain the multiple shots he fired at a helpless black kid?
Those are questions that the Ferguson police force must answer. If deadly force isn’t immediately applicable against someone breaking into one of the most important buildings in the country in order to attack the president, then how is it applicable against an unarmed person just walking down a random public street? Mike Brown wasn’t breaking into anyone’s house, let alone the White House. Mike Brown wasn’t carrying a weapon, unlike the guy who attacked the White House. But Mike Brown still got shot to death. How does this make any sense?
The Ferguson police department sickens me. And this disparity is why.
Dear 嫲嫲 [Grandma],
It has been four years since you passed away.
I want to tell you that I have a nice job now
People say that I help them.
I even delivered a baby on the side of the highway.
I was on the news! Twice!
I wish you could have seen it.
You would have been so proud
and called all your friends
and called the whole family to tell them to
switch to Channel 5 at 7 o’clock
and recorded the second interview
and saved my newspaper clippings
(mom and dad and my sisters didn’t even watch it
They said, but we all saw you on TV the first time! We see you every day!)
but you would have been so proud.
I passed by our old house the other day
the rose bushes are gone now
and the giant tree in our front yard doesn’t seem so giant anymore
in fact, everything is smaller.
No one grows winter melon on the fence like Grandpa used to do
but I guess they don’t have to worry about old Mrs. Chung from down the street
coming by with a shopping bag, and stealing their melons
Mrs. Chung is probably gone, too.
Remember the time I grew a sunflower plant in kindergarten?
A tiny little green sprout pushing through a small square of Home Depot soil
in half a school lunch milk carton.
We planted it in the flower garden together
and all summer it grew and grew
until it was taller than me, taller than you, taller than mom and dad
until I could see it from my bedroom window on the second floor
the bright yellow blossom turning throughout the day to follow the sun.
When it wilted we cut off the flowers and roasted the seeds in the oven
I still can’t believe how big sunflowers are!
They don’t grow things at number 8 Old Standish anymore.
Andy finally got married this past summer, and Peter finally had a kid
We had a picture of you and Grandpa at the wedding.
I think sometimes the happiest events are the hardest.
Being in the doctor’s office with you the day they gave you your diagnosis
was one of the hardest days I can remember
I didn’t know the word for cancer in Cantonese.
I struggled to find the words for
the treatment options, and the estimated years
I cried so much, but you didn’t shed a tear.
You said, “I have lived a good life, and people age.
That’s how it goes.”
I have always admired your strength.
When you had a stroke, you walked yourself to the hospital
because you didn’t want anybody to worry.
You raised nine children during a time of famine
Often going hungry so that they could eat.
I remember the story of how a Japanese soldier
beat you with your own umbrella in the street
because it was raining and
he could not see you bow underneath it.
Yet you carried no bitterness in your heart.
When I was born I was so small,
You called me “米雪”
because I was as small as a grain of rice
and as pale as snow.
I got sick a lot and
everybody worried I was malnourished
because I fussed and would never eat.
You made dish after dish for me until I found something I liked
and to this day mom says it’s your fault that I “always want to have everything.”
You walked me to the library every day so I could learn to read
Because even though you struggled with English you wanted me to know it
I was reading at a fifth grade level
by the second grade.
I wish my Chinese was better. I could have told you so much
About my interests and thoughts and feelings
and how hard it was to be depressed during school
and how hard it was to fight with mom and dad
and how I wish I could have heard more of your stories
and how I should have spent more time with you
I didn’t know our time was going to be over so quickly.
But sometimes I think maybe it is a good thing you’re not around
You never have to have your heart broken
when I want to marry a woman instead of a man.
Your love for me will never be soured
the way that I am afraid mom and dad’s will be
the day that I finally say something.
I will never disappoint you or hurt you,
and you will always be so proud of me.
嫲嫲, I eat enough now.
(sometimes too much)
I don’t go to bed with wet hair anymore
(even though I never caught a cold from it)
The days are getting colder
but I always remember to bring a jacket,
and, yes, I am warm enough.
Also, there is someone I like.
She is beautiful and talented and kind to me
and we laugh a lot together
I think you would have liked her.
It may not work out, but
I am hopeful for the future.
Sometimes little grains of snow-rice
grow like sunflowers.
嫲嫲, please don’t worry about me
It’s not always easy
but I am happy.
I am reaching for the second story,
I am following the sun.
-letter to my grandma on the day that we clean the graves
You are such a beautiful individual and I am so proud of you and so blessed to read your work. Thank you for sharing this. Your grandmother sounds like an incredible person and I am sure she is proud too (hugs)
Fox News Finally Loses It: Uses ‘Success’ of Japanese Internment Camps to Advocate Profiling Muslims (Video)
What the FUCK, Fox news, what. the. fuck.
This is NOT ok. I am so fucking tired of people like those in Fox using feeble excuses to ‘justify’ their inappropriate and threatening behavior. Do they not realize what associations come with “Internment Camps”? Don’t they know what happens after you start ‘profiling’ HUMAN BEINGS?! Don’t they realize that they’re sounding like fucking Nazis?!
Don’t listen to them. Be angry. Speak up. I am so pissed off right now. People should boycott that channel. IT is NOT ok to judge an entire race or religion of people from the actions of individuals. It is not ok to start “classifying” people based on what they look like, as if you can peer into their hearts and nature that way. You know what you’re doing? You’re treating them as subhuman. As animals and this will NEVER be ok. NEVER be justified.
Leave the Muslim and Middle Eastern communities alone.
Word Count: 11,750
Summary: She clutched his jacket about her shoulders tighter, as if the movement comforted her—and then she gave him a small, sad smile, like she understood something he didn’t, and it was a moment he never forgot even as the years passed.
Note: Reincarnation AU. This is long (I’m so sorry to anyone on mobile) but believe it or not I dissected it quite a bit to shorten it and I may or may not upload the longer version later. I need to thank mikasaackeermans for giving me the idea for the format and queenrnikasa for doing the eremika headcanon thing with me.(This is what I’ve been writing instead of Oath so sorry)
As always, I’m really sorry for any mistakes.Triggers are in the tags.
"They can’t be far." Armin says, but he is far from hopeful. "The ashes are still warm."
Unfriendly reminder that in America it’s reasonable to say an unarmed black kid deserved to be shot six times because he might have robbed a convenience store, but a white kid shouldn’t be kicked off the high school football team just because he violently raped a girl.