Ellen Page’s beautiful coming out speech.
Love him or hate him, John Green is a powerful force in YA publishing. But lauding commendations on his shoulders for turning a generation on to a long-standing and previously thriving genre is not only presumptuous, it’s offensive to every other author in the business and plays victim to…
If your body is asking for food, the hunger will gradually develop. Emotional hunger is a response to some sort of negative experience or feeling and is usually more of a sudden onset of a craving for a specific food. With emotional hunger you will also feel the need to eat immediately.
If you’re still not sure, wait a few minutes and see what happens. As you do this more and more it will become easier for you to distinguish between the two.
One thing that can help with anger is feeling a sense of power. Things like running, dancing, or other strong physical activities are a great way to get that energy out of your body.
Depending on what works for you- you may also want to try something more calming. Slow down, let your mind relax… sometimes that can help you to organize your thoughts which may bring on the realization that whatever your angry about isn’t all that bad or is something you can work on by staying focused.
Don’t forget to address your anger. None of this means to disregard it, push it back, or try to completely forget about it. You can’t bottle these things up inside. What you want to do is calm yourself, release that negative energy, and organize your thoughts so you can handle the anger in a safe and effective way.
If you’re lonely, reach out to someone. Text, phone, video chat, in person. Even just going outside for a walk or going to a coffee shop with your laptop.
You don’t always have to be directly socializing with people as long as you’re around them. Short term loneliness is sometimes alleviated by simply being in the presence of other people.
If you’re tired, take a look at your schedule. Are you overworking yourself? You may need to make set times within your schedule to take a break. Scheduling breaks may sound weird… but you need it. Don’t burn yourself out. Don’t take on more than you can handle.
Also take a look at your sleep schedule. Are you getting the rest you need? Maybe you need to set an earlier time to get to bed in order to wake up feeling refreshed. Your body will thank you.
The last thing is that you can’t be afraid take time for yourself or say no to things.
Child Abuse Stop Motion by Waste of Time
Also good for the kids. They encourage having slow readers read to the family pets. A dog will listen to a kid read a whole book one damn sssyl-la——-ble at a time, and it will never get frustrated, or correct their pronunciation, or start playing Angry Bird because it can’t stand listening to the slowness any more. The dog will look at the kid approvingly, because, human. Human is talking. Human is interacting.
So this is a great win-win.
i am a 26 year old man and this almost made me cry
When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.
Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”
When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.
Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”
I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.
She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”
“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”
He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”
Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”
When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”
Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”
Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.
He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.
Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.
Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.
One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.
I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”
Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.
It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.
It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.
It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.
There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.
I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.
Christ, I want to perform. I want to write, and make art, and sing, and act, and fucking graduate someday… Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.