lost-thoughts15 - Tumblr blog

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you get used to it, but it's tiring, because they need you to understand your own life as a series of goalposts. what college are you going to, what's your major going to be, whatcha gonna do with that, oh where will you settle down, when can i expect grandkids.

for the longest time my goals have been so blurry that they track into each other, their undefined edges slipping quietly back into the soft night. today i want to be a writer; tomorrow i will want to be a doctor, later i will wish i took that law school free ride. how the fuck do people just know what they want to do with their life?

where do you want to be in five years? i want to be alive; which is a huge step for me. ten years ago i would have said i want to be asleep and meant i hope that i'm dead by then.

but i want a yellow kitchen and a stand mixer. i want a garden and a fruit tree (cherry, if i can make that happen) and a big yard for my dogs to play in. i want to come home and read poetry out loud to someone and have them close their eyes to listen. i want a summer watergun fight. i want to make snowmen. i want to be the house to go to for halloween. i want my life to settle around me in a softness, for it to lay down gently. if i am very, very, very lucky, i want to travel; finally go someplace overseas.

of course i don't know what i want to be doing professionally. what i actually want to be doing is curling up beside my dog, settling in to read. i want to be making myself a cup of good coffee.

i can't answer the other questions. whenever people asked me what do you want to be when you grow up, i used to say i hope i'm happy.

i hope i'm still kind, five years from now. i hope i never get jaded and mean. i hope i have stayed in therapy. what do you picture yourself doing? when will you actually be an adult about this? why are you so afraid of being ambitious?

am i not ambitious? the other day i rearranged my furniture which doesn't quite fit into my apartment. i watered my plants. i'm going to try to propagate a cherry seed. my five year goal is to spend more time laughing. to lie down in a patch of sunwarm moss. to relax for a minute. to close my eyes and think oh thank god. this is why i stayed. this is finally it.

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yall are acting like it was a kill or be killed world when at any chosen moment it could be a love and be loved world for you.

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life is so weird i have so many things to read

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“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”

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Wake me up when September Ends.......

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I bet you could sometimes find all of the mysteries of the universe in someone's hand.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

By Benjamin Alire Sàenz

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Full offense but your writing style is for you and nobody else. Use the words you want to use; play with language, experiment, use said, use adverbs, use “unrealistic” writing patterns, slap words you don’t even know are words on the page. Language is a sandbox and you, as the author, are at liberty to shape it however you wish. Build castles. Build a hovel. Build a mountain on a mountain or make a tiny cottage on a hill. Whatever it is you want to do. Write.

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I think we are all just wandering in the dark waiting for someone to hold us and tell that we've reached home....

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Yo, I just started watching Euphoria and this shit is fucking crAAzyyyyy...

It just feels like all of the shit is going down at the same moment. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.........

Save me :)

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how are the 2001-2004 crowd feeling about being so scared on growing up your entire life then having your adulthood put on hold by a global pandemic and finding a weird comfort in the fact you had an excuse to hide but now having to come to terms with the fact you aged in lockdown and people will expect more from you than you can give because youre still a teenager as far as youre concerned.

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✨How to demolish casteism as an upper caste✨

Now before I share the actual stuff here's the common sense and sentence to use when dealt with a caste system follower - ब्राह्मण गर्व से अपने बच्चो को सेना में भर्ती करते है। क्षत्रीय गर्व से अपने बच्चो को बिजनेस और शिक्षक बनाते है। वैश्या अपना खून पसीना एक करके अपने बच्चो को पढ़ाते है की वो पारिवारिक बिजनेस से आगे बढ़ के कुछ कर सके । तो जब शुद्र और दलितों की बारी आती है , तब वे अपने जात से आगे क्यूं नही बढ़ सकते?

{Brahmins proudly admit their children in army, kashtriyas proudly encourage their children to teacher and entrepreneurs, vaishyas spend their blood,sweat and tears to make sure that their children move ahead from family buisness and do something. So when it comes to shudras and Dalits why can't they move ahead and do something other than what their caste assigns them?}

Stop saying dialogues like the following-

a. Arey aap kese ye kaam karenge? Aap to Brahman hai,bhagwaan saman. (how can you do this work? You are the person of god!)

b. Rajput hai hum! Ladna humare nas nas me hai! (we are rajputs! It's in our blood to fight!)

c. Arey wo gujrati/marwari hai. Bohot chalu hote hai wo log. (Oh they are gujrati/marwari. They are very cunning people)

d. Batao brahman hoke ese kaam kar raha! (See! He's doing such things despit being a brahman)

e. Batao rajput hoke esa kayar admi hai! (He's such a coward despite being a rajput)

f. Arey wo....sc se hai na. Engineer hi banega aur kya? (He's from.....sc right? What will he do except engineering?)

g. *to an sc/st/obc person* apke liye alag plate lau? (Should I bring seprate Plate for you?)

h. Oh he's a chaturvedi....he won't engage in such works.

I could go on and on but these are the common ones . Brahman,rajput,dalit....this shit just ain't valid.

Touch their feet in respect.

Now let me explain. In many places all over India there is a tradition to touch the feet of elders when we greet them after a long time. If there is an elder who is from a caste considered lower don't hesitate to touch their feet. (Domestic servants,helpers,house keepers etc.)

Now many of you will complain abt parents but remember- without bravery and bold stand nothing will change.

Make sure the plates and glasses given to people from castes discriminated against are the same ones used for regular guests

I honestly don't like the terms - upper and lower castes. Just use caste discriminated against. It's long I know. But it's right.

Don't answer to questions like "Thakur ho? Brahman ho?" And blah blah blah.

Invite friends or colleagues from st/sc to pujas and mandirs and prayers if you and them belong to same faith. Trust me it means a lot.

Don't flinch or show hesitation if skin contact is made.

Highlight and have open discussions on the reports and cases about torture of Dalits.

STOP USING THE FOLLOWING GALLIS!!!!

a. Chammar

b. Kamina (yes it's a casteist slur too)

c. bhangi

d. Chandal

e. Mahar

f. pariah

g. Kanjar

Mc,bsdk,bc,salla,salli jo bolna hai bolo but don't use the casteist slurs.

Don't use the following sentences while in conversation with st/sc person

You don't look like a dalit...?

90 above! Par tum to wo ho na....?

Yaar chammar basti ke log kitne pichde hai(people of chammar basti are so backwards), they need our help *proceeds to click selfie for fake sympathy on insta*

I get that you are a dalit but all the issues of the world aren't related to you.

Hum to padhe likhe log hai(we are educated people). We don't hesitate to hire dalit maids or workers.

Har baat pe dharna kyu lagate ho?(Why do you have to launch movements at every small thing?)

With that deviyon aur sajjno aur mere priya non binary mitron I shall now take my leave and hope that my children will be born in an India where caste system is abolished completely to its core.

[lost-thoughts15]

nudes are art so you ain’t a hoe you a vincent van ghoe

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Everyday is leg day when you’re running from your problems

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...and for a moment I thought I loved her. But I am slow-thinking and full of interior rules that act as brakes on my desires.

The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald

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anyways if you don't agree with this don't ever even dare to come near my blog cause this is exactly what most people in the "third world" think about.