do you know
that your tomorrow
has no tomorrow?
that your blood
is the ink
of new maps?
Unsurprising news of the day: Many women leave the church because of its “’silence’ about sexual desire and activity, and because of its hostility to single-parent families and unmarried couples.” [via A Spritely Oolong]
Sciencewomen point to an awesome statement by Michelle Obama:
I was raised to believe I could do it all, and that was very empowering. Then I got into the work force and realized there was really no support for me to do it all. … We either have to fix that or be honest about it.
An awesome video - my new crush raps about the LHC.
-As for me: laugh at me. I agree with you. It is a fool-
ish business to see the future and screech at it.
One should watch and not speak. And patriotism has run
the world through so many many blood-lakes: and we
always fall in.
Sara Robinson writes about John McCain’s betrayal of the troops and how he’s paving the way for an army no one wants to see at Campaign for America’s Future.
Men explain things to me, and other women, whether or not they know what they’re talking about. Some men.
Every woman knows what I’m talking about. It’s the presumption that makes it hard, at times, for any woman in any field; that keeps women from speaking up and from being heard when they dare; that crushes young women into silence by indicating, the way harassment on the street does, that this is not their world. It trains us in self-doubt and self-limitation just as it exercises men’s unsupported overconfidence.
One of my professors was astonished when I said I didn’t read a lot of poetry and gave me a short book of poems by Robinson Jeffers to read. So far, it’s incredible. Shine, Perishing Republic is one of my favorites.
While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire,
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence; and home to the mother.
You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly
A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.
But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening center; corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster’s feet there are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught–they say–God, when he walked on earth.
1 third of the homeless men in this country are veterans
and we have the nerve to “Support Our Troops”
with pretty yellow ribbons
while giving nothing but dirty looks to their outstretched hands
