5. the fan i used to learn don quixote en pointe in the 9th grade.

oh my jesus.

4. just found a loose-patch from Girls Scouts. the “Native American Culture” Badge. i don’t remember anything about it, but i’d really hate to find out what potentially fucked up things we had to do to earn it..

cleaning/rearranging this room. found so far:

1. old competition ribbons—i’m embarrassingly proud of my first place and platinum ribbons and medals.

2. orange ‘ellis island’ yo yo from a pre-9/11 field trip my brother took in elementary school.

3. unopened 2-disc CD set called “Yes We Can! Speeches of Barack Obama,” with 12 speeches from the DNC national convention 2004 through his 2008 POTUS-elect acceptance speech.

4.

5…

rrooooooaaaaaarrr.

i feel like screaming. and the word “roar” comes to mind as the explication of choice.

but i’m in suburbia.

and screaming means consequences, and i’m not up for that.

so here i sit.

quietly.

there were never bugs in my ninth floor manhattan dorm room.

being eaten alive over here. hmph.

ohmygoodness. fuming.

why,

why,

WHY is it so damn ‘radical’ to believe that all humans deserve dignity, respect, autonomy, food, beds/shelter, love, civil rights, civil liberties, etc..?

why the fuck is it so goddamn ‘hippie’ -ass radical of me to give two shits about the person next to me, especially when they’re suffering?

what’s so threatening about that shit?

when did elevating people of Color, trans*folk, queers, the disabled, the HIV positive, the homeless become translated to “kill and eat all upper class cis white folks”?

whatthefuck.

just because we’re challenging you to check your privilege, and just because we’re trying to get the fuck out from under your feet, and just because you piss us off doesn’t mean that our justice and the elevation of our communities somehow equals the death or dismantling of yours.

a “radical” shifting of that community? hell yes.

but we’re not gonna grab our human-sized feminist nets and come looking for you in the nighttime and throw you into paddy wagons and cart you off to overcrowded jail cells.

that would make us just like you.

me: 1

buzzer: 0

i’ve conquered the undercut. *applause.*

bought a buzzer. next stop, bathroom mirror.

itisalwaysnecessary:

paintwithwords answered your question: This afternoon, a panhandling amputee on Broadway…

I HATE it when people tell me “god bless you.” it’s like, i didn’t ask you for a prayer! go away!

I feel like this illustrates the difference between my sister and I quite perfectly.

Love you.

I PASSED BOTH REPERTORY AUDITIONS.

they like meeeee.

or, at least, they did last tuesday.

coming at you, new york city postmodern dance world. (sort of.)