seasalty

I can confirm that drinking raspberry tea is AMAZING for helping with cramps. A cup of that and some naproxen in the morning and I can go the whole day without feeling too much like trash. Even on day one when my cramps can be debilitating this little trick makes it bearable. Not to mention the raspberry gives me a little boost of energy when loss of blood has me feeling exhausted.

Probably-Unnecessary PSA About Barnes and Noble/Nook eBooks

And since they’re in their death spiral, this also means that the app might disappear and take your books with you when they go under. So if you’ve bought books from them in the past and don’t have access in another format, now might be the time to think about how you’re gonna read those books when B&N suddenly closes the way Borders did.

Also can those nasty pedophiles stop using the concept of “age of consent” wrong? Age of Consent does not mean you can fuck a child if they are above the age of consent. It means kids from that age can manifest consent when having sex WITH KIDS AROUND THE SAME AGE. 

The most dangerous thing you can do is believe life is a narrative. Narratives imply that you are its protagonist. As a protagonist, it’s hard not to believe you deserve satisfying resolutions to your conflicts and a happily ever after. It implies that certain people, because they don’t interest you, aren’t important. It implies that other people exist to further your story. The thing is, you can’t treat other people like side characters. Your best friend is not a side kick. Your friends are not comedic relief or dramatic foils. Your parents do not exist to provide your tragic backstory or dispense fortune cookie wisdom. Your first love, your current love, your ex-love, your would-be love, your unrequited crush, your almost-love, your soulmate—they’re not there to fill your emptiness or give you emotional depth. But, you say, aren’t we all the protagonists of our own story? I say no. Because I’m not a side character in anyone’s story. I’m no one’s two-dimensional soulmate. I’m my parent’s child, but my life is my own. I’m just a person, with my own heart and my own fears and my own dreams. I deserve to be treated as one. And so do you. Narratives also imply an author. A guiding hand who will make sure things work out because that’s what happens in books and movie screens. Or, at least if you die, it’ll have meaning. That’s convenient, because it means you’re not responsible for the things you say and do. You’re just a puppet, bending to the strings of Fate and everything you say, every choice you make, has already been written.   Fuck that. I want my mistakes to be mine. My pain to be mine. My joys, my loves, my laughter, my tears, my accomplishments, my failures—they’re all mine. They belong to me, and whoever I share them with. The universe doesn’t get to take credit for my messy heart and all its wanting. I don’t care if things are meant to be. I’m not looking for a neat, clean ending. I am greedy and I want everything I can get my hands on.

Can you do something for me, please?

“Do you understand anything I’m saying?” shouted Moist. “You can’t just go around killing people!” “Why Not? You Do.” The golem lowered his arm. “What?” said Moist. “I do not! Who told you that?” “I Worked It Out. You Have Killed Two Point Three Three Eight People” said the golem calmly. “I have never laid a finger on anyone in my life, Mr. Pump. I may be – all the things  you know I am, but I am not a killer! I have never so much as drawn a sword!” “No, You Have Not. But You Have Stolen, Embezzled, Defrauded, And Swindled Without Discrimination, Mr. Lipvig. You Have Ruined Businesses And Destroyed Jobs. When Banks Fail, It Is Seldom Bankers Who Starve. Your Actions Have Taken Money From Those Who Had Little Enough To Begin With. In A Myriad Small Ways You Have Hastened The Deaths Of Many. You Did Not Know Them. You Did Not See Them Bleed. But You Snatched Bread From Their Mouths And Tore Clothes From Their Backs. For Sport, Mr. Lipvig. For Sport. For The Joy Of The Game.”