i donât think iâll ever be happy.

â
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i donât think iâll ever be happy.

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Anne Carson, from The Glass Essay

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i fall in love too quick.
Hey
I donât know if you check this. I rarely write here. Not like I used to anyway. But if you do, if youâre somewhere and I show up in a dream and you can get me off your mind the next day, I miss you.
Sometimes more than breathing. Sometimes I want to scream for you. When heâs on top of me, inside me, and it feels like I canât breathe. Itâs not you. I can pretend but I miss you.
If that matters at all.
do you realize itâs been an entire decade since our love story began? i know iâm crazy, obsessive even. that i canât let it go. that times like tonight all i want is you. i want to be 17 again, in your gold pontiac drinking gas station dr. pepper, my feet on your dash and your hand on my thigh.
some days missing you catches me so off guard. iâm fine and then suddenly iâm longing for the smell of your cologne, the way i fit just so tucked under your chin my head pressed against your chest, your heartbeat lulling me to sleep. my god i think the ache only grows with time and i just want to cry and scream and ask why wasnât i good enough for you? i think i will take this wondering to my grace.
last night I was talking w my sister abt how I approach each new relationship w the mindset that I have to be the best person they've ever known so that when I leave their standards are so high they cannot go backwards, thus forcing them to keep finding better and better people to have in their lives . and while this is an odd way to say "I want to treat people well because everyone deserves kindness", I rly do enjoy the doofenshmirtz evil scheme vibes
you see perry the platypus , it all started when I was a small child ,, I just never saw anyone be fucking nice to each other
Please make a post about the story of the RMS Carpathia, because it's something that's almost beyond belief and more people should know about it.
Carpathia received Titanicâs distress signal at 12:20am, April 15th, 1912. She was 58 miles away, a distance that absolutely could not be covered in less than four hours.
(Californianâs exact position at the time isâŚcontroversial. She was close enough to have helped. By all accounts she was close enough to see Titanicâs distress rockets. Itâs uncertain to this day why her crew did not respond, or how many might not have been lost if she had been there. This is not the place for what-ifs. This is about what was done.)
Carpathiaâs Captain Rostron had, yes, rolled out of bed instantly when woken by his radio operator, ordered his ship to Titanicâs aid and confirmed the signal before he was fully dressed. The man had never in his life responded to an emergency call. His goal tonight was to make sure nobody who heard that fact would ever believe it.
All of Carpathiaâs lifeboats were swung out ready for deployment. Oil was set up to be poured off the side of the ship in case the sea turned choppy; oil would coat and calm the water near Carpathia if that happened, making it safer for lifeboats to draw up alongside her. He ordered lights to be rigged along the side of the ship so survivors could see it better, and had nets and ladders rigged along her sides ready to be dropped when they arrived, in order to let as many survivors as possible climb aboard at once.
I donât know if his making provisions for there still being survivors in the water was optimism or not. I think he knew they were never going to get there in time for that. I think he did it anyway because, god, you have to hope.
Carpathia had three dining rooms, which were immediately converted into triage and first aid stations. Each had a doctor assigned to it. Hot soup, coffee, and tea were prepared in bulk in each dining room, and blankets and warm clothes were collected to be ready to hand out. By this time, many of the passengers were awakeâprepping a ship for disaster relief isnât quietâand all of them stepped up to help, many donating their own clothes and blankets.
And then he did something I tend to refer to as diverting all power from life support.
Hereâs the thing about steamships: They run on steam. Shocking, I know; but that steam powers everything on the ship, and right now, Carpathia needed power. So Rostron turned off hot water and central heating, which bled valuable steam power, to everywhere but the dining roomsâwhich, of course, were being used to make hot drinks and receive survivors. He woke up all the engineers, all the stokers and firemen, diverted all that steam back into the engines, and asked his ship to go as fast as she possibly could. And when sheâd done that, he asked her to go faster.
I need you to understand that you simply canât push a ship very far past its top speed. Pushing that much sheer tonnage through the water becomes harder with each extra knot past the speed it was designed for. Pushing a ship past its rated speed is not only recklessâitâs difficult to maneuverâbut it puts an incredible amount of strain on the engines. Ships are not designed to exceed their top speed by even one knot. They canât do it. It canât be done.
Carpathiaâs absolute do-or-die, the-engines-canât-take-this-forever top speed was fourteen knots. Dodging icebergs, in the dark and the cold, surrounded by mist, she sustained a speed of almost seventeen and a half.
No one would have asked this of them. It wasnât expected. They were almost sixty miles away, with icebergs in their path. They had a respondibility to respond; they did not have a responsibility to do the impossible and do it well. No one would have faulted them for taking more time to confirm the severity of the issue. No one would have blamed them for a slow and cautious approach. No one but themselves.
They damn near broke the laws of physics, galloping north headlong into the dark in the desperate hope that if they could shave an hour, half an hour, five minutes off their arrival time, maybe for one more person those five minutes would make the difference. I say: three people had died by the time they were lifted from the lifeboats. For all we know, in another hour it might have been more. I say they made all the difference in the world.
This ship and her crew received a message from a location they could not hope to reach in under four hours. Just barely over three hours later, they arrived at Titanicâs last known coordinates. Half an hour after that, at 4am, they would finally find the first of the lifeboats. it would take until 8:30 in the morning for the last survivor to be brought onboard. Passengers from Carpathia universally gave up their berths, staterooms, and clothing to the survivors, assisting the crew at every turn and sitting with the sobbing rescuees to offer whatever comfort they could.
In total, 705 people of Titanicâs original 2208 were brought onto Carpathia alive. No other ship would find survivors.
At 12:20am April 15th, 1912, there was a miracle on the North Atlantic. And it happened because a group of humans, some of them strangers, many of them only passengers on a small and unimpressive steam liner, looked at each other and decided: I cannot live with myself if I do anything less.
I think the least we can do is remember them for it.
wow okay iâm crying now
âAnd even as he watched the rescue unfolding that morning, he would have understood that for the living, everything which could have been done had been done: not a single survivor was lost or injured being brought aboard the Carpathia. For those who had gone down with the Titanic, save for reverencing their memory at the service later that day, there was nothing more that he or anyone could do. Rostronâs duty now was as he always saw it: to the living.â
I looked up a bit about this because the post is so movingly written that when I read it aloud to my husband and mother they both wept like babies, and something else really struck me about this story.
So Carpathia was not a top-end luxury liner. Her reputation was for being Jolly Comfortable - she was very broad in her proportions, and not super-duper fast, and the result was that she didnât rock so much on the waves and you couldnât particularly hear/feel the engines. She was solid and dependable, and lots of people liked using her, but she therefore occupied a lesser niche than Titanic or Olympian or whatever - and crucially, as a result of that, she only had one radio operator on board. This means she only had radio ops for a certain window in the day, unlike Titanic, which had 24 hour radio ops.
So on that night, when Titanic went down, Carpathiaâs wireless operator - one Harold Cottam - clocked off his shift at midnight, and went to bed. While he was getting ready for bed, though, he left the transmitter on for the hell of it, and therefore picked up a transmission from Cape Race in Newfoundland, the closest transmitting tower sending messages to the ships. They told him that they had a backlog of private traffic for Titanic that wasnât getting through. So, even though his shift was over, and it was now 11 minutes past bloody midnight, and he just wanted to go to bed, Harold Cottam decided that nonetheless, heâd be helpful, and let the Titanic know they had messages waiting.
And thatâs how he received the Titanicâs distress signal. In spite of no longer being on shift to receive it, and therefore in order to send Carpathia galloping to Titanicâs rescue, and thus saving 705 people.
All because Harold Cottam decided one night to be kind.Â
I dunno. Thatâs just really stuck with me.
Cottam also ended up staying awake for something like 48 hours straight trying to send survivors messages and a list of survivors home, but due to Carpathiaâs limited radio frequency range and with no other ships to act as a relay, this was rather patchy. However, he tried his damn best to make sure the survivorâs messages got home, and was also bombarded with incoming messages of bribes to spill the details of the disaster to the press.
Rostrum had ordered that no messages to the press be sent out of respect to the survivors, for they would have their privacy destroyed as soon as they reached New York. Cottam respected this order, even under extreme duress of fatigue, stress, and the knowledge that in some cases the bribes were almost three times his annual salary.
He eventually went to bed but not before working with one of the rescued Titanicâs radio operators, Harold Bride, to transmit as many messages as possible. Bride was injured (his feet had been crushed in a lifeboat) and had just passed the body of the second of Titanicâs radio operators aboard (Jack Phillips), so neither of them were really in the best shape to keep working, but they did.
In the face of extreme adversity, both men refused to do anything but their duty (and exceeding their duty) not just because Rostrum had ordered it, but because it was the right thing to do. They could have profited considerably from the disaster and they refused for the dignity of the survivors.
This is hopepunk. This is what we can be, what we are, when instinct takes over. This is what we are when we choose to care about each other. Weâre not profit machines or units of production or lone fierce wolves in a bitter wilderness. We are people, and we care about people.
This is human nature. Donât give up on it.
Hopepunk is best punk.
this always leaves me sobbing. fuck.
I wrote a post a couple of years ago, wondering why there hadnât been a documentary or docu-drama about the âCarpathiaâ rescue run.
There are probably sound reasons why not, one of which is probably that getting yet another âTitanicâ project greenlit is far easier - name recognition, pre-sold property, multiple conspiracy theories to play with (all discredited, but when did that stop the âHistoryâ Channel?)
Here are a couple of stories about âCarpathiaâ:
As @mylordshesacactus has already said, her boilers and engines were rated for no more than 14 knots and, when she managed 17.5 for the only time in her life itâs said (I hate the phrase but I have to use it) that the Chief Engineer hung his hat over the main pressure gauge so no-one - including himself - could see how far its needle was into the red.
Captain Rostron, a religious man, was seen on several occasions standing privately on the exposed bridge wing with his own hat raised and his mouth moving in silent prayer, and when daylight revealed the extent of the ice-field his ship had passed without harm, he only said âThere must have been another Hand on the wheel than mineâŚâ
Thereâs another problem-of-sorts about a screenplay set aboard âCarpathiaâ - an astonishing lack of that easy dramatic tool, conflict. Captain Rostron decided he was going to the âTitanicâs assistance, and that was that. AFAIK not a single passenger or crewman - not one - questioned the wisdom of his decision either then or afterwards, even whenâŚ
âŚâCarpathiaâ headed at more than full speed, in the dark, through dangerous waters where an iceberg had apparently just sunk an âunsinkableâ ship.
Itâs easier to write - and sell - a story about pride, arrogance, stupidity, rich against poor and lives lost through hubris, than it is to write one about people who rallied round and did the right thing at the right time, not for reward but because it was the right thing to do.
Hereâs Rostron and his officersâŚ
âŚthe âCarpathiaâ stewards and cabin crewâŚ.
âŚsome of her passengersâŚ
âŚand some of the people they helped.
I will always reblog one of the few posts to GUARANTEE leaving me in an ugly sobbing heartfelt mess.
Godspeed Carpathia and your crew, your memories live on.
and iâd like to give a special shoutout to bisexuals who are losers

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one of the most amazing things that has been said to me in therapy is that self esteem doesnât exist.
and that floored people and the psych went onto say that what she meant was that self esteem is a concept that actually includes a vast array of things and labelling them all as one thing is really limiting and prevents actual improvement
you could have real strong pride in the things you create and hate your body
you could hate your creations but also want to share them with people
you could not hate yourself at all but not take care of yourself, engage in reckless self endangerment
thats all bundled under âself esteemâ but saying âi need better self esteemâ doesnât mean anything
whereas if you say âi need to work on ways to keeping myself safe, refusing to act on destructive urgesâ or âi want to be in a place where i believe compliments trusted people give meâ
thats concrete, thats a goal.
having it said in therapy helped a lot of people in my group stop saying âi have low self esteemâ and start specifying about the actual issue they have
Wow, that is so, so helpful.
legendsÂ
Queen shit

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oh, i am finally old enough to know why my parents took so long to grab their coats. why they would ask us to get ready to go only to sit down for another round of coffee. what would i tell myself, at 10 years old? itâs okay. sit down with them too. take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. when you get home, write down every moment in your diary. one day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to your best friend, and you will turn the key to start your beat up little car engine, and you will look back over your shoulder. her hair will be blowing in the wind and she will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. what you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. and you will think of being 14 and kicking her under the table in math every time you wanted to whisper something behind the teacherâs back. you will think about how long the days felt, and how you could hold her hand whenever you wished, but you didnât. and you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. and you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that - more time to linger. more time to say - i love you. i know i need to leave, but i donât want to leave you. and when i go, i am leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too.Â
one more round of coffee. the days are so short, and you are so lovely.
âThe number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.â (mikko harvey)
Can someone please just tell me that I am crazy for missing my ex who left years ago. I feel like such a creep but honestly I just really wish he would call.
I hate myself for missing you.
I wonder if he ever thinks about me. Or if he truly has stopped loving me. If he has forgotten about fast station dr. Pepper and fried pickles and the Great Gatsby. Or if he ever misses the smell of my coconut lotion or the way I fit tucked in so nicely by his side. I hate myself for remembering. I hate him for forgetting.