if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
i was getting ready for another day of spying and murdering, practicing my interrogator death stare with my piercing blue orbs. just then, enabran tain came in. “pack your things.” he said. “i’ve sold you to pay our debts. meet your new owners, the crew of deep space 9.”
On July 18th, 2015, I realized that the Republican Party had left me behind. On this day, while seeking the Republican nomination for president, Donald Trump had the following to say about an Annapolis graduate who was shot down, captured and tortured as a POW by the communist North Vietnam regime:
“He's not a war hero. He was a war hero because he was captured. I like people who weren't captured."
This verbal diarrhea came out of the mouth of a man who used his father’s wealth and privilege to dodge the draft five different times due to his “bone spurs”. Donald Trump is a traitor, a repeated draft dodger and the largest fraud in the history of our country.
In the very first scene of The Wire, Garak asks Bashir if he was up late “entertaining one of (his) lady friends.” Bashir explains that no, he was up really really late reading a boring book that he hated. Why did the important space station doctor deprive himself of sleep reading a terrible book that he didn’t like? Oh, because this guy he has lunch with likes it.
I want to point out that Garak’s question was obviously intended to serve as the official “No Homo” announcement for the ensuing (very homo) episode, as was obviously necessary for super gay episodes of tv in the 90’s. However, Julian’s response was so gay, I submit that it instantly Homo’d the No Homo.
not to be so disgusting and gross about gojo on the dash but i think he's such a flirty, teasing idiot that, when you show him genuine and true affection, he goes all somber and quiet.
like you come up to him after dinner and stand on your tip-toes and hug him for no reason, give him a fat kiss on the cheek for no reason, and he just — lets you. doesn't say anything, just kind of hums and lightly places his hands on your hips, so gently you might not even know they're there. you tell him, "i love you, thank you for eating with me," and he presses his mouth to the top of your head, lips squished, and says it back, but there's no jokes, no teasing remarks. he just allows himself to be weak and to bask in it, for as long as he can.
every time queer discourse surges on this site everyone is so quick to jump to “it was actually the evil lesbians who divided us” because y’all heard the term “political lesbian” and never bothered to figure out what that meant