katie doyle's thoughts and wishes

Dani and I are awesome.

Lovely sky in transition this evening. (That’s the top of my house on the right.)

I just made a wedding folder in my bookmarks. I kind of hate myself.

When someone says something negative about my face or body I will always and forever just completely lose my shit, because I have so much hatred in me, a violence that lies just beneath the surface of my delightfully illustrated skin. Being called ugly and fat and disgusting to look at from the time I could barely understand what the words meant has scarred me so deep inside that I have learned to hunt, stalk, claim, own and defend my own loveliness and my image of myself as stunningly gorgeous with a ruthlessness and a defensiveness that I fear for anyone who casually or jokingly questions it, as my anger and rage combined with my intense and fearsome command of words create insults meant to maim, kill and destroy.

Margaret Cho Rightfully Loses Her Shit

True it’s all well and good to focus on the positive, ignore anger, and fight hatred with love but…easier said than done.

Do I feel guilty when I say mean and hateful things about mean and hateful people? Yes. Do I do it anyway? Yes. Should I? Probably not.

I have a temper. A huge flaring temper. When I hear about people being cruel, I snap. When I hear about people who are bullies, I lash out. When someone does something blatantly mean to a friend, I’m completely prepared to drive to their house and hit them in the head with a frying pan.

And what about people who treat me like shit? Well, for a lot of years I let these people treat me that way because I thought they were my friends. They weren’t my friends. I was just the self-esteem boost who let them walk all over me.

When the choice is between letting these things roll off my back, or rising to their level in order to get even…well, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I aspire to the latter. Because the mean things people say about me? They don’t roll off. They stick. They worm their way into the back of my brain and when I remember them for the hundredth time, they hurt just as much as they did the first. And I wonder if any of them even remember what they said. And I want them to.

So, there’s that. Good on Margaret Cho.

Source: jezebel.com

Quirky Geeky: How Lord of the Rings saved my life.

zgulliksen:

Now I know that I’ve said books and movies saved my life growing up. i don’t think I can fully express how little I was exaggerating. I grew up in a very small snobbish private catholic school. The same 20 kids in my grade from kindergarden til 5th grade. I then moved to a different equally small…

That post just about made me start crying. I went to that same type of Catholic grade school until I graduated in 8th grade with the same 8 people I had been in class with since preschool and all of them thought I was weird and fat and just weren’t nice people. The only friend I did have was a horrible girl from down the street who constantly lied to me, stole from me, and physically harmed me when I didn’t do what she wanted.

And so I read and wrote and was accepted into a high school with a concentrated writing program. And even there, all I wanted to do was write fantasy stories like the ones I loved, but I wasn’t allowed because fantasy wasn’t “real writing”. But I learned the technical crap and read my books at home, and read my comics and got through it well enough.

I didn’t really stop thinking that my interests weren’t stupid until I met all of my friends on twitter, and I still have to defend that all the time.

I’m incredibly grateful that my mom was so supportive of me and just let me be. She never told me to go outside and play, never asked why I didn’t make friends. Just took me to the library and bought me books and left it at that.

The emotional and social problems that have stemmed from these deep DEEP insecurities about the things that matter most to me in the world are still just..terrible. It makes me feel just a tiny bit better to know that we all had a shit time, we all survived, and we all have found people who don’t make us feel like freaking outcasts.

And, well. That’s all I have to say about that.

Source: zgulliksen

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citrusshrimp:

badmoonrise:

If I just had a penny everytime this happened…

GPOY.

My family are fans of telling me that I “look so pretty when I smile.”

I’M SORRY-THIS IS JUST WHAT MY FACE LOOKS LIKE!!!

(via sedusas)

Source: milkteef

The most damaged books are often the most loved.

teachingliteracy:

shatteringbluebulb

My favorite books are the books that look like they’ve been absolutely destroyed. The binding is ruined and the covers are ripped. The books are in chunks and held together with tape. The only way you’d know what the title is would be by looking at the cover pages. Almost every single page has been dog eared at some point. Some may say this is book abuse, but I disagree. If you love a book, you’re going to read it forever and make it a part of your life, not treat it like some fragile china you might break.

Source: shatteringbluebulb