teaboot:

zaynsamosa:

white person: *eats chicken tikka masala once* i just…. i feel so connected… to indian culture …. I’m learning to speak islam…. check out my third eye….. chakra

Every time I see this. Every damn time. I’m immediately sucked back into my fuckin. Fuckin English lit class with Mr. Fuckass McShit. Mr. “Hit the gong to begin class”, “Namaste, Children”, “I wanna go backpacking in India to find my spiritual awakening and also my left burkinstock that I lost during a cedar sauna drum circle” ass bastard.
“Do you want to share your poetry with the class to get in touch with your emotions” ass fucker. Mr. “Here’s a photograph of a tribal shaman, describe him using nature words” asshole. Pretentious-ass, condescending motherfucker.
“Do you want to tell us about your saddest memory?”
“I dunno, sir. Are you giving me an option?”
“No.”
“Then why are you asking”
Every goddamn day. Fuck. “You seem tense.” Oh, I seem tense? I seem tense. Well fuck, Professor Pillsbury, maybe I ‘seem tense’ because I walk into a room on five hours of sleep to the sound of a goddamn brass gong drilling through my brain and your seven-foot-nine, socks-and-sandals-wearing, patchouli-smelling ass immediately gravitates in my direction with some shit like “a tree……… Is a Poem” and I gotta sit here and politely tell you that No I’m Not Comfortable Telling The Class About A Time I Was Emotionally Vulnerable With A Loved One using words that sound like the way the color yellow smells. Maybe I don’t wanna sit in a circle and hold hands with Brittney from Computer Sciences to “align our auras” or some shit. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.
I swear to God, if I wanted to sing ‘kumbaya’ with a smelly old guy with gross facial hair who writes bad porn on the side, I’d go out to the parking lot and share a Hookah with Crazy Dan, the disgraced electrician.
What, I don’t wanna do an interpretive dance to represent the spiritual experience of eating Quinoa in a room full of ambivalent preteens and suddenly I’m the ‘troubled youth’ you need to Robin Williams “O Captain My Captain” your way into having a Paternal Bonding Moment powerful enough to Expand My Impressionable Young Mind and Turn My Life Around, you goddamn saint, you? Jesus Fucking Christ. You insufferable jackass. You’re not “Enlightened”, you rolled out of bed and ate half a pot brownie, wrote a sad song about a leaf, and strolled into class to ramble about your Spirit Animal for six hours straight before calling it a day. Holy Jesus goddamned Christ. Fucking Balls, sir. Holy Fucking Balls

twelfthhousesea:

I think the Leo/Aquarius opposition has always been the most interesting for me. Because both of these signs encourage the universe to be themselves and conquer their battles, in their own unique ways. Whilst Aquarius is chasing and projecting ideas and supporting causes and moving society along group by group, the extraterrestrial being watching over and protecting its beloved humanity… Leo is the warm smile, handshake, strong hug and human contact, the “I did it, and so can you”. And that can’t be underestimated.

dylanisastimmykid:

Honestly? The absolute worst part of autism would have to be that getting better looks like getting worse. Let me explain. There is no recovery with autism. It’s just part of you, that’s all. But neurotypicals and society at large force autistic people to try and fit in as much as possible. Don’t stim, don’t use echolalia, speak how we want you to, etc. etc. The way that you grow as an autistic person and avoid depression and anxiety and other negative side effects of autism is by giving those expectations the finger and being your true autistic self. But…this becomes a predicament. The people around you see you stimming more, speaking less, using echolalia more, whatever it may be, and they think you’re getting “worse.”

I’m gonna use myself as an example.

I’ve always appeared more neurotypical than many autistic people because that’s what I was forced to do growing up. I got really depressed and suicidal. I never let my autistic behaviors out and I got depressed. Holding in your autism, your true personality, will do that. Then, I started stimming more. Some stimming at school, a little stimming in public, lots of stimming by myself. I started to let myself avoid eye contact and be okay with that. I got less depressed. I got less suicidal. But, now I was visibly autistic, and therefore it looked to everyone else like my mental health must be getting worse. But it wasn’t. Those things that looked like me getting worse were actually me getting better and being myself.

The reason this is on my mind is that I’ve kind of reached a plateau in my recovery from the bad stuff in that now that I’ve had a taste of what being my true autistic self is like, I want it all. I’ve been stimming in front of people, but that’s starting to not be enough. I want to talk how I need to, I want to do my verbal stims, I want full body stims, not just my hands, but that’s another big step that’s gonna look like I’m getting worse and that, more than anything, is gonna get me a lot of judgement. Fidgety hands and mild bouncing aren’t tooooo weird or noticeable. Vocal stims, stomping, walking on the balls of my feet, being semi verbal, all that stuff…that’s what I need. That’s what I need to feel comfortable. But, the more autistic you appear, the “sicker” everybody thinks you are, when really, that’s what’s healthy for autistic people.

I guess what I’m getting at is that I just want to exist as my true autistic self without fear of judgement. More specifically, without causing people concern or even having people notice.