THIS IS A LIVESTREAM OF WHAT IS CURRENTLY HAPPENING IN FERGUSON. THE POLICE GAVE THE CROWD THREE FINAL WARNINGS TO TURN OFF THEIR CAMERAS. THE POLICE HAVE UNLEASHED TEAR GAS ON THE CROWD, RUBBER BULLETS, EAR-PIERCING NOISES, ETC. THE CROWD IS RUNNING. PLEASE SHARE THIS LINK EVERYWHERE
There is this website called Thrift Books and I just got $66.90 worth of books for $19.93 (five books). Shipping was free. You’re welcome.
Yes! I just bought $82 worth of books for $17.85!
Twogami blesses your dash from the promised land.
The music did it for me.
In a time that seems so long ago, I would sit on my bed, along a plain white brick room, listening to new music and the sound of buzzing lights. I would write, or read, and think about the day - what I had learned, what I had seen or heard. In that time, I could feel freedom coming from the air I breathed, and when I grew restless or weary I went out into the dark of night, along sidewalks under streetlights, and soak up the cool night air - wandering long and far into the night. Within the day, I waved or said good day to those I passed by, and eat or be with those that had come to be apart of my heart. Every day, there would come at the end a time to walk amongst dim lamps, and enjoy the quiet left by those drawn to sleep. I saw blessings as curses back then - sometimes I still do - and while walking on my sleepless nights I’d curse my bout of insomnia. If I had been one that held sleep in high regard, I would have missed half of the greatest nights of random circumstance I’ve ever known - and what would my life be? I never would want to be relieved of the long, winding drive I ventured on; the long nights of talking and looking for the edge of earth; and I’d never want to lose the wonderful laughter I could share and be shared. And even the nights when I was alone, upset and looking up questioningly at the sky, I would not ask to be returned. They’ve made me by what they broke long ago. Though I feel constricted with the unfamiliar sight of the darkened roads where I now reside - and hide - I hope that one day I’ll rekindle that freedom, and live it - like I had done in those times that still feel just so long ago.
WHEN YOU MENTION THING X I HAVE ATTACKS AN OHMYGOD ALWAYS PUT TRIGGERS WARNINGS AND~*
Look. Trigger warnings can be incredibly useful, but they are not always appropriate.
If you want your blog/website to be a safe place for all, trigger warnings are a great idea.
However, not all spaces should be “safe” — e.g., some spaces are designed to put us into contact with harsh, vile, reprehensible, or otherwise difficult things. Spaces like art certain art galleries and blogs; spaces like universities and the big wide cold unfeeling outside world.
It is good for us to have safe places, adorned with trigger warnings.
It is also good for us to have unsafe places, with no warnings at all.
Those of us who are triggered need to have safe places to which we can retreat, but we also need to force ourselves — with the help of loved ones, therapists, what have you — into the wide, unsafe world. Else, we never reclaim our spaces there.
I am a man with intense mental illness, I benefit a lot from trigger warnings. I also benefit from spaces without those warnings.
Had every space bowed to my triggers, I would still be afraid to leave my bed, two years removed from the worst of my panic.
Because part of overcoming my panic was learning to reintegrate and deal with a world that didn’t give a shit about my panic.
What I’m saying is: safe spaces are necessary, but they are also lies we tell ourselves to momentarily reject the unfeeling truths of the world.
Erect and maintain safe spaces, but also learn to navigate the unsafe ones.
(Note: this only refers to safe spaces re: triggers that will not irreparably harm the triggered; triggers that will irreparably harm the triggered are an entirely different matter, one which requires psychological, legal, or medical intervention)