Quotes added on Tuesday, March 22 2016
IS IT STILL ME THAT
MAKES YOU SWEAT...
© format coded by: br0kenwings
Please don't remove this, or make it invisible!
Image is from tumblr, original photographer unknown.
Please don't remove this, or make it invisible!
Image is from tumblr, original photographer unknown.
“
You
are loved just for being who you are, just for existing. You
don’t have to do anything to earn it. Your shortcomings,
your lack of self-esteem, physical perfection, or social and
economic success - none of that matters. No one can take this
love away from you, and it will always be here.—Ram Dass
”
For if a man chooses to be
prom.iscuous, he may still aesthetically turn up his nose at prom.iscuity. He may still demand a woman be faithful to him, to save him from his own l.ust. But women have l.ust, too. Why should they be relegated to the position of custodian of emotions, watcher of the infants, feeder of soul, body and pride of man? Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather than p.enis and sc.rotum; to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable femininity. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night…
prom.iscuous, he may still aesthetically turn up his nose at prom.iscuity. He may still demand a woman be faithful to him, to save him from his own l.ust. But women have l.ust, too. Why should they be relegated to the position of custodian of emotions, watcher of the infants, feeder of soul, body and pride of man? Being born a woman is my awful tragedy. From the moment I was conceived I was doomed to sprout breasts and ovaries rather than p.enis and sc.rotum; to have my whole circle of action, thought and feeling rigidly circumscribed by my inescapable femininity. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars - to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording - all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night…
That
annoying
moment
when
you
cant
get
the
eyeshadow
on one
eye
as good
as the
other
