preserving memories



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klammer

alexofeddis:

thescienceoffandom:

Here are some basics on herd immunity, and here is some more technical research if you’re interested in the details! 

If you’ve ever heard my rants about vaccination, you know it’s a major topic with me. Because hey, I’m one of these immunosuppressed people this comic talks about, so it’s a bit of a sensitive subject. (“Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t like getting vaccinated? I don’t like having three month long respiratory infections because you gave me the freaking flu, but I guess you don’t care about that”)

Essentially, Ellen and her wonderful character Katherine have just said it better than I ever could—and using Shaun of the Dead references, too!!! It’s all about herd immunity—getting vaccinated isn’t just about your own health, it’s about the health—and non-zombification—of the entire human race.

SO REBLOG THIS!! LIKE THIS!!! SPREAD IT LIKE WILDFIRE!!!!!


alisonchoi:

"When things go wrong, you ask yourself, ‘how can there be a good God?’ I think the conclusion I come to is that both faith and doubt are equally logical choices in the face of tragedy. Faith is to say, ‘yes the future will have pain, but there is a meaning and a purpose deeper than that pain.’ For me, that is my choice. To believe rather than doubt.

- Jon Foreman


katsaridaphobia

even though i’ve always known that cockroaches freak me out, i only realized today that i actually have a phobia of them. i saw one in the sink and i tried to spray it with a jet of water, but to no avail. it continued to withstand the stream and scuttled mightily away. thankfully, my sink is pretty deep, so i had many opportunities to spray it downwards. i called out to my mom to kill it, but she was preoccupied with something else. as the cockroach refused to be swept away, i grew increasingly frantic and i started sobbing. 

by the time my mom came, i had already killed it, but i was still crying and choking with fear. as the offending cockroach was no longer in sight, i gradually calmed down. 

even though we keep our house clean, we’ve had a cockroach infestation for a while now. they’re not everywhere - generally only in the kitchen -, but they pop up with an alarming frequency when i least expect it. i might open a drawer or a cabinet and i’ll see one creeping along an edge. other insects don’t faze me, for the most part; i barely react to them, and i wouldn’t be too perturbed if i had to brush one out of my hair. cockroaches, on the other hand, trigger intense emotions of loathing and block out rational thought. 

thankfully, i haven’t seen any in my room ever, but i don’t know why they’d restrict themselves to only one area of our house. why do we even have cockroaches? is this just a new york thing? i read an SHSAT passage on cockroaches last year and i now have disgusting facts about cockroaches seared into my memory. i know that they can live without food or water for months, and that a pregnant cockroach can spawn a truly horrifying number of progeny. i don’t want to think about how many live here with me. 

i generally just try to pretend that they don’t exist until one appears to threaten that illusion, but i can comfortably settle back into denial after i dispose of it. i do dream of living in a cockroach-free home one day, though. 

10:13 pm, by elusivexo2 notes Comments

next chapter

when did i lose the cadence of easily-flowing conversation? why do i get more confused, not less, with more relationship experience? how did i possibly forget the seductive pleasure of reading? why do i find it easier to say yes than to politely extricate myself from a social obligation? do i self-sabotage because i know i don’t deserve anything? is it bad that i prefer reading to seeing people? okay, that one’s a rhetorical question. 

even though romantic relationships certainly don’t define my life, they do a surprisingly good job of neatly bracketing sections of it. if i were a phoenix, the untimely demise of a relationship would serve as an impetus for my destruction and subsequent rebirth. i have to be ground into ashes before i can emerge bright-eyed and naive, excited to take on the world before i get knocked off-course by a dazzling boy. in retrospect, i only went downhill from there, even though i didn’t realize it at the time. 

is it possible to stave off the inevitable? can i learn from my mistakes? am i predestined to crash and burn before dusting myself off again in a sickeningly perpetual cycle?

in the meantime, there are many little joys to focus on - the exciting potential of applications, fluid vinyasa in bryant park, sparkling new books, miles the adorable toddler, my GNC small group, prayer with my breath and body, the thrill of hours and hours of alone time. the invisible words between the lines before the next chapter. or is this already the beginning? 

09:23 pm, by elusivexo4 notes Comments

Ask Polly: Why Don’t the Men I Date Ever Truly Love Me?

Because let me tell you the god’s honest truth: A lot of women out there are afraid of being something. The template for us is pretty clear: We are meant to have clean skin, a pleasant demeanor, and a nice rack. I’m not speaking up against nice racks, Lord knows. But there are lots of ladies around me, everywhere I go, who hesitate to say what they’re thinking and feeling. They go with the flow, they never make waves. And eventually, they don’t even seem to know what makes them who they are. They live to serve. They read the books that other people are reading. They say the pleasant things that other people are saying. They never put their needs first, unless it indirectly serves someone else — a manicure, some highlights. They make sure everyone around them is 100 percent satisfied. Like grocery-store managers. Like customer service reps. Like masseuses who also give free happy endings.

You don’t cherish yourself. You do whatever what’s-his-face wants to do, for the sake of the fun little team, for the sake of demonstrating your good communication skills. Just admit it. You never draw lines in the sand. He says, “We need to talk, it’s serious.” And you don’t say, “WHAT do you MEAN motherfucking WHAT?!! TELL ME RIGHT NOW.” You say, “Okay,” and then make an emergency trip to your therapist and discuss all of the possibilities, and then you show up the next day, well-rested and prepared to discuss either ending it or nailing it down. That sounds perfectly sane and wonderful, but THAT’S NOT FAIR TO YOU. You are cherishing him, and cherishing your therapist, and cherishing sanity, and cherishing evolved-lady living, BUT YOU AREN’T CHERISHING YOU.”

_______________

dang. this response. super long and not entirely necessary to read, but unexpectedly relevant. at a certain point in my life, i remember feeling comfortable with who i was - that i was weird and quirky, and i was fine with it. that i would say awkward things, or laugh when nobody else laughed, or confront people when i felt like there were issues to be worked out. i remember cong telling me at one point that boys liked me because i was demure, and i was shocked and disappointed. “is that really how other people see me? because i don’t see myself like that at all.” i remember talking to justin a year later, who compared me to another girl who told him the truth even when it hurt. i was upset by his accusation that i agreed with him simply to be nice and passive. “i actually do agree with you! i would say so if i didn’t.” i don’t remember his response, but i went back to my room, injured and puzzled.

i clicked this link randomly because it showed up on my newsfeed and i was intrigued by the title, not because i actually thought it was relevant to me. that wasn’t my takeaway from my breakups; i never felt unloved, and i certainly never took the breakups calmly. i had just finished reading americanah and i felt sympathy for the beautiful, peacemaking kosi, unloved because obinze never gave her a chance. i didn’t think about her very much, though; she was an uninteresting character with no personality, barely relevant to the plot of the book. but in this description, in the connection to the simpering women in the book who are completely crushed by love, i realize that i gave up my freedom to say what i was thinking and do what i wanted. i subsumed my own desires into his, exaggerating what we had in common and trimming off my offending quirks. in this time of singleness, i’m realizing, with a start, that i’m only now recovering who i was. 

07:14 pm, by elusivexo2 notes Comments