My 12-year-old self is crying with excitement.
Amy Poehler (via juuuulia)
This is new to me and it makes my heart hurt, but it’s fucking important.
So, a couple of weeks ago I finally decided to just buy a cheap one rather than the perfect one that I had been waiting for. It’s more about the words inside it than the condition of the dust jacket, right?
Well, the copy I bought arrived today and not only is it in perfect condition, dust jacket and all, it’s fucking signed by ROBIN MORGAN, “in sisterhood, Robin Morgan”.
Sisterhood is powerful.
I’ll be in my thirties by the next time I have a weekend birthday.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve gone through difficult periods in the past, some of which I have documented here, some of which have been documented in other spaces, some of which I haven’t even attempted to document because I couldn’t articulate them for whatever reasons. But this month has been different.
For the first time it was due to the stress of my work and it impacted everything in my life.
To tell others about why I love my job.
Also how to embrace your inner gear-geek.
Yesterday, I survived telling a bunch of girlhood scholars about girls, while my superboyfriend survived telling a bunch of music students about sound.
I managed to not poo my pants and I have it on good authority that Ryan didn’t poo his either.
Pooing my pants, pooing my pants, pooing my pants.
But the hotel I’m staying in tonight has a spa, so, it seems I’ll be pooing my bikini-bottoms in the sauna.
Trying to finish my revisions on this goddamn article.