Voices in Our Blood by Jon Meacham
Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde
Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire
Losing My Cool by Thomas Chatterton Williams
Black Picket Fences by Mary Pattillo-McCoy
The Hip Hop Generation by Bakari Kitwana
The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin
The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Alex Haley
The History of White People by Nell Irvin Painter
Policing The Crisis by Stuart Hall
The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration In the Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander
White Like Me by Tim Wise
How The Irish Became White by Noel Ignatiev
Other People’s Children by Lisa Delpit
Punished: Policing the Lives of Black and Latino Boys by Victor M. Rios
THE FACT THAT THE AMERICAN PEDIATRIC SOCIETY TOLD AMERICAN SCHOOL SYSTEMS THAT TEENS SHOULD NOT BE UP BEFORE 8:30 AND ONLY 15% OF SCHOOLS LISTENED ANGERS ME SO MUCH
Fact: a lot of high schools (mine inclded) tried to change, but faculty/staff got really angry for whatever reason (even though most adults jobs start at 8/8:30?) and school then have up
Plus everyone is now a white, straight, able-bodied character, regardless of the diversity in the books.
The real problem with books-turned-movies isn’t “omg they didn’t include every single word in the book” it’s “omg they completely overlooked the main theme, threw out any significant allegories, took away all the emotional pull, an turned it into a boring action movie with a love triangle in it”
LEMME TELL YOU BITCHES ABOUT MY GIRL CARMILLA
FOLKS FORGET ABOUT CARMILLA AND HER WONDERFUL LOVE STORY JUST BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T GET AS MUCH PUBLICITY AS OL’ DRAC BUT SHE’S AWESOME
SHE DOESN’T BURN IN SUNLIGHT BUT DOES WEAKEN CONSIDERABLY TO THE POINT OF FAINTING AND NEVER WAKES UP BEFORE NOON (MY SPIRIT MONSTER IS CARMILLA YO) AND WHEN SHE FEEDS FROM LAURA IT’S ALWAYS FROM HER LEFT BREAST. THAT’S STRAIGHT UP VICTORIAN EROTICA YO. SHE CAN TRANSFORM INTO A CAT AND INTO FOG, SIMILAR TO DRAC, AND HAS THIS LONG, BEAUTIFUL DARK HAIR.
YOU CAN READ THE WHOLE THING ONLINE IT’S OUT OF COPYRIGHT AND STUFF BUT HOLY SHIT A STORY ABOUT WOMEN IN THE 1800S THAT PASSES THE BECHDEL TEST WHAT????
GO. READ IT. IT’LL TAKE YOU BARELY AN HOUR AT MOST.
holy shit i am so reading this wtf
Whyyy hellooo this is the type of vampire story I like to read!
LESBIAN VAMPIRE FICTION IS THE BEST VAMPIRE FICTION <3
imagine a video game where you create a hero whose destiny is to save everyone, but throughout the game you start making harder and more questionable decisions, and the game gets darker and darker. and in the end you’re just standing there, clutching the controller and finally realizing you were playing the villain all along
I really fucking hate it when guys act like marriage is literally the end of their lives like if it’s so fucking bad, and you hate it so much, don’t get fucking married and put your spouse through hell because you’re shit. If you feel trapped you’re doing it wrong.
Filed under: Sitcom Tropes That Need to Go Away Forever
James Lopez, a veteran Disney animator (The Lion King, Pocahontas, Paperman), is currently trying to raise money for his traditionally animated project Hullabaloo. Hullabaloo is a steampunk short film which Lopez is hoping will help save the cause of 2D animation, and possibly lead to a TV series or film. So, if you’re interested in badass steampunk ladies or traditional animation, may I recommend you give a dollar or two. Hullabaloo's IndieGogo page is over here, visit to donate and learn more! And I’ll conclude with the plot:Hullabaloo is the story of Veronica Daring, a brilliant young scientist who returns home from an elite finishing school to find her father—the eccentric inventor Jonathan Daring—missing without a trace! The only clue left behind points Veronica toward Daring Adventures, an abandoned amusement park used by her father to test his fantastical steam-powered inventions. There she discovers a strange girl named Jules, a fellow inventor who agrees to help Veronica in locating her missing father and discovering the secrets of his work.
Together, Veronica and Jules learn that Jonathan Daring has been kidnapped by a mysterious group of influential persons, who seek to use his latest invention for nefarious purposes. These villains are wealthy and influential and neither Veronica nor Jules can stop them openly. But determined to save her father and holding true to the family creed that technology should be used for the good of all, not the greed of some, Veronica assumes the secret identity of “Hullabaloo”, a goggled crusader who uses wits and science to combat evil and oppose the nefarious conspiracy that has taken her father.
…while “the female gaze” is attracted by things like a naked, sweaty Chris Evans or Idris Elba, it’s also attracted by things like: men smiling in sweaters, men crying (DON’T LIE TUMBLR), barefoot fragile Sebastian Stan in the rain on Political Animals, men holding babies, men speaking foreign languages, Mark Ruffalo, and a whole bunch of weird stuff on Ao3 that I don’t even wanna get into. And that’s just “the female gaze as it pertains to men.”
I laminated a paper towel
why does this have 31 thousand notes
You made it useless but also prevented it from the end it was predestined for.
But wait this is actually freaking me out though, it raises so many questions about the otherwise incomprehensible meaning of life as a collective whole versus personal sustenance and longevity
Imagine if one day you were given a choice: Become immortal and indestructible for eternity, unable to be harmed by anything ever again, and get to live forever.
However, in order to achieve that you must give up whatever your purpose in life is. Whatever it is that you were always meant to do, what you were supposed to contribute to the overall scheme and future of the life of the universe, your purpose… the whole reason you were even created, even born in the first place. You must give that up. You don’t know what that is. You’ll never know; But, regardless, you say yes.
Perhaps you assume you wouldn’t have made any sort of significant difference anyway. That butterfly effect theory or whatever they call it? Nah, you call bullshit. It doesn’t matter - you don’t matter, at least not to anything outside of your immediate connections - and it’ll all be fine, and you’ll just live forever with minimal (or maybe even no) consequences.
So, yay! You’re now immortal. You’ll never die or get hurt ever again. Wee!
But then, centuries and centuries later (not to mention that by this point you’ve gone through horrible heartbreak and misery and despair because every loved one you ever had, every friend you ever made, ever person you barely got to know, has passed away, died as you lived on long without them, helpless to do anything for them as you watched them perish, unable to ever go with them or ever see them again. But I digress), now, you learn you actually were important in the grand scheme of things. You were supposed to be a key factor in the world’s survival, long ago; but, because of the choice you made (immortality over individual purpose), you were never given the knowledge or awareness or resources or ability to save the world that you were always supposed to obtain, before you unknowingly made the wrongest choice to ever wrong.
Needless to say, you’ve fucked up big time.
The entire universe as we know it is destroyed soon after this horrifying revelation. It implodes, collapses in on itself, essentially forming a massive black hole or something. Stars, nebulae, galaxies, solar systems and planets, worlds and worlds of living people and things, and light-years of time and space and life, all sucked up into absolute, indefinite nothingness.
But you remain.
Just you. Floating amongst, spiraling around, rocketing through, suspended in… nothing. With a feeling of such unbelievable loneliness that your feeble brain can hardly perceive, can’t possibly hope to comprehend. Not only are you the only living thing left, you don’t even have one inanimate object to keep you company. You have literally. Nothing. And you are literally nowhere. I mean, technically, you are now the universe - if it would bring you petty comfort to think about it that way. You. Only you. With nothing, no one, nowhere. Forever. And ever. And ever.
All because you thought you didn’t matter. That you had no real, meaningful purpose. That you could never possibly make a difference.
But you did. And now look what you’ve gotten yourself into, you silly nugget. You’re gonna be pretty bored and lonely for that eternity, huh?
Or maybe it was out of selfishness. Maybe this wasn’t because you felt useless, but because you simply only cared about prolonging your own life and nothing else. Hm.
The moral here? Be selfless, and always know and remember that you matter.
Or else, one day, you might destroy the universe. And be left to suffer, and be tortured horribly and endlessly by the void of nothingness that has consumed you. With no way to escape. Ever.
Other moral because I got sidetracked from my initial point - all things considered, would you choose longevity over purpose? Immortality over meaning?
OR, IDK, MAYBE SOME IDIOT JUST LAMINATED A STUPID PIECE OF PAPER TOWEL FOR NO GOOD REASON
AND MAYBE I SHOULDNT BE LOOKING FOR THE ANSWERS TO THE MEANING OF OUR SHORT, FRAGILE LIVES IN
T OW E L
I D K
Write. A. Book.
What if I did write a book
and the pages of that book
were made out of