so what i’ve learned about once upon a time based on what appears on tumblr
aside from the general plotline (there’s a spell or something and they’re all people from failytales)
- the blond girl & lana parrilla needs to have hot sex soon
- the blond girl wears that red leather jacket a lot
- people are generally confused whether they’re obsessed with the show or just with lana parrilla
Hello! I am Iago. I am bisexual-homoromantic, mostly gay, 75% lesbian, or just straight enough to fake it, which ever you prefer. I am desperately in love with Paget Brewster, and Thomas Gibson and Robert Carlyle are the reasons I know I'm not completely gay. I love Doctor Who, Sherlock, Buffy, Criminal Minds, Firefly, and Once Upon A Time, among others, and I either fangirl hard or not at all.
What IS with all the carrots?
I'm an author and a theatre student, hoping to be a technical director one day. I am everyone's mother, and if you hurt my friends, nothing will halt my vengence.
just because you dont break skin or use a razor doesnt mean it cant be self harm
just because they never hit you doesnt mean it cant be an abusive relationship
just because you can communicate in some circles doesnt mean you cant have anxiety or socializing issues
just because you have a good day doesnt mean you cant have depression
Do not let your perception of how your struggle should be silence you. Your problems are real and they deserve attention.
Saturday I was judging a high school debate tournment, and going home required a rather short walk to the subway through a not terrible, but slightly sketchy part of Boston. As I was cross the street to get on the path that would take me to the station, I saw a group of about six guys, in that happy excited stage of somewhat drunk. I was like “oh, GREAT. But they stayed on the opposite side of the street from me.
After about a block, one of them walked across the street and called out, “Excuse me, ma’am?” and waited until I turned to look at him, and he said, “Sorry to bother you, but is this the way to the train?” I said yes, it was. He said, “How much further? Someone told us it was like, right here and we were thinking it didn’t look right.” (He was saying this in the slightly over-ennunciated way of the somewhat inebriated.) I said it was about two more blocks and it would be there, he said thank you, and went back across the street to his buddies to give the report.
Now, I admit I have a pretty strong “don’t fuck with me” field, and I rarely get street harassment. But guy, this is how you do it. Let me numerate the ways he and the other guys handled this interaction perfectly.
1: They all stayed on the other side of street. There was no crowding into my space.
2: Only one of them came over while the others waited.
3: He got my attention respectfully, and waited until I was looking at him to ask his question.
4: he stayed a good 15 feet away from me the entire time. He was respecting my space.
5: He asked his question, asked for clarification, thanked me, and moved on. He did not take my willingness to answer his question as license to continue to bother me.
I don’t know if he was consciously doing this, or what, but this is how you do it. It’s a little sad that I find this so remarkable, but if you need a primer on how to ask a question of a woman walking alone, this should get you started.
I don’t know why I didn’t post about this earlier
I just remembered the story Amanda Palmer told the crowd at her concert in Chicago.
She got quiet for a sec (after we sang happy birthday to neil) and then looked up and said, “Can I tell you guys something really corny?”
Of course, everyone in the audience scream and hollered yes. Amanda, you can tell us anything.
So she says that earlier in the day she walked down Clark Street in Wrigleyville just to see what was around. There’s not much in Wrigleyville other than sports bars and more sports bar. Eventually she stopped at comic book store and went inside. She quickly checked to see if anyone recognized her and then proceeded to walk around the store. As she left, the guy at the counter said hey. She said hey back. He asked her to draw a picture for a friend of his since she was a huge fan. Amanda said sure and the comic book dude asked if there was anything he could get for her. He could hook her up if she wanted. She asked do you wanna know the truth? Of course.
She said that when she was feeling lonely, she would go to comic book stores and look at all of Neil’s work on the shelves.
And holy fucking shit did that make my heart hurt.
(Mine too. When I miss her I am significantly more likely to look at Amanda Palmer photos on Tumblr than to walk into a record store.)
- me: whats your opinion on tampons
- little brother: they're little fuzzy sticks on strings
- me: then you are ultimately more mature than most boys
- little brother: why
- me: for some reason tampons are gross and taboo just cuz they go in a vagina
- little brother: well so does a penis and boys never stop talking about those
- little brother:
- me: that is a fantastic point
By popular demand* I bring you the Random House/FedEx story. This happened not *too* long ago. This is partially by memory, but I did write it down afterwards, because it was so great.
MAUREEN wanders into the local FedEx with a package she needs to send to Random House publishers. Random House is not far. She could take it there herself, but the last time she tried to surprise-take a package to a publisher she got pulled aside by security** and now she FedExes everything, even to people standing next to her.
After filling in the forms and putting the object into a FedEx envelope, MAUREEN walks to counter and presents the object for processing.
FEDEX GUY spins package around, examines label, frowns.
FEDEX GUY: I can’t send this.
MAUREEN stares, waiting for further explanation. When none is forthcoming, she spins the package back around and looks at the label, because apparently she is going to have to figure out what it is that she didn’t put on it. Because it’s not just a delivery service-it’s a TEST OF WITS. Finding no blank spaces, she feels like a bit of a FedEx failure.
FEDEX: (very disapproving look) I can’t send this to a random house.
FEDEX: I can’t send this to a random house. You need an address.
Now MAUREEN gets it. She can barely believe this wonderful thing is happening, but she gets it.
MAUREEN: Oh! No, no. It’s a publisher.
FEDEX: Yeah, but I can’t send it.
FEDEX: I can’t send to a random house.
MAUREEN: No, I mean, it’s a business. It has an address.
MAUREEN points to the address on the label, under Random House, person to be delivered to, number, street, city, and zip code.
FEDEX: (in a “you need to listen to me now” tone) I can’t send to a random house.
MAUREEN: No, it’s called Random House. But it’s a publisher. A business. That’s its name.
FEDEX: I can’t …
MAUREEN taps furiously on address.
FEDEX GUY examines package for a minute.
FEDEX: You can’t send stuff like this.
MAUREEN: THAT’S ITS NAME. It is CALLED Random House, but it is not a random house. It is a business at that address.
FEDEX: But you can’t have random house in the “send to” line.
MAUREEN: I HAVE TO. THAT’S WHERE IT IS GOING.
FEDEX GUY knows that he has said “you can’t send to a random house” about six times now and knows repeating it will not help. Looks at Maureen like she is very, very stupid.
MAUREEN: Listen, it is a publishing business. A well-known one. It is CALLED Random House. That is the actual, legal name of the business. Trust me. It will be fine. Your delivery people who get this, they’ll know what it is. I promise you. It’s not going to get lost.
FEDEX GUY is not persuaded, but shakes his head in a very New York City-style “okay, I will do this thing, because I have to do things for idiots every day of my life” way. He angrily scans the barcode.
FEDEX: I shouldn’t be sending this.
MAUREEN: Thank you.
FEDEX: That’s a stupid name.
MAUREEN: I’ll tell them.
Random House, consider yourself notified.
** This is true. It was the release of my first book. I tried to bring my editor a present and they came close to pinning me down on the floor and turning the hose on me … okay, they boxed me into a corner and asked me a lot of questions and wouldn’t let me leave. I was just trying to bring her a gift certificate. Anyway, I still shake when I think about it.