Just want to wish a very Happy 69th Birthday to this guy here today. Here’s to many happy returns!
Man…I am not in any way a Spander shipper, but the more times I go back and rewatch Buffy, the more I’m convinced that Xander had an attraction to Spike that he was just not at all able to face. It just explains so damn much…and then there’s this entire exchange from season 5’s “Intervention”:
Buffy: I am not having sex with Spike!
Xander: It’s understandable. Spike is strong and lean, yet compact and well-muscled.
Buffy: I am not having sex with Spike…but I’m starting to think that you might be.
Me too, Buffy…me, too…
Someone actually just left this comment on the blog I just shared with you guys:
On top of that, people are commenting on the post on Autism Speaks’ FB and misconstruing part of what I wrote (“If only someone could tell every child and adult on the autism spectrum that the word “retard” is not a symbol of their brokenness, but instead a reflection of other people’s ignorance”) as me saying that people with autism are broken…when I was actually saying the OPPOSITE.
This upsets me so much because I am so often told how eloquent I am and how I express myself so well, but people are thinking I meant something that I clearly didn’t, and so I am blaming myself. Ughhhh…
This post was written for Autism Speaks in honor of Spread the Word to End the Word, which is a campaign dedicated to urging people to stop using the word “retard.” It is marked today, March 5th, and I hope you guys will read this and give it a ‘like’ or reblog if you feel so inclined. Thank you!
In June of 2001, there was no Amy Gravino. The girl who stepped on stage and quietly accepted her diploma was just a shell, a shadow made of all the names her peers had called her for six, seven, eight years. Their words covered her like kohl-dark calligraphy, stains on the skin too deep to ever wash out.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”
…If ever there was a nursery rhyme written by someone who forgot what junior high was like, that one is it.
In reality, words can and do hurt, and they can still hurt no matter how old or how many years past grade school you are.
I can still remember the first time one of my peers called me a retard. By the time seventh grade rolled around, the simple, childish name-calling of elementary school (“Buck-toothed beaver”, “Bugs Bunny”) was cast aside in favor of a more vicious brand of insult.
Not that my feelings weren’t hurt and my self-esteem destroyed when they made fun of my teeth, my toes, even my glasses. Every syllable contributed to the overwhelming insecurity that I felt in my appearance all through high school, and even though I no longer think of myself as ugly, it is a more familiar word, so much so that I don’t think I will ever get used to the sound of “beautiful.”
But “retard” was different. The problem was no longer something that they or I could see. The only way I knew it was there was when they called me that. “Retard” is an arrow that’s aimed at part of your soul, and every time it’s said, it takes a little piece of you away.
It was their way of disregarding me as a person.
That was new. Worst of all, there was nothing I could do to “fix” it.
If only someone had told me that I never needed to “fix” anything at all.
If only someone could tell every child and adult on the autism spectrum that the word “retard” is not a symbol of their brokenness, but instead a reflection of other people’s ignorance.
If only those who use “retard” so casually in conversation could know what it is like to be on the other side of that word.
Every single person who is reading this today has the power to make sure that no one on the autism spectrum has to go through what I went through ever again. When someone says the word “retard,” there is a conscious and deliberate choice being made in that moment to use that word instead of another one.
The only option, then, is to choose differently.
Choose to let someone’s pain take priority over the desire to say whatever you want.
Choose to speak up when someone does say the R-word, because your silence is their approval.
Choose not to ignore the long-lasting hurt that words can cause.
Even if the person you called the R-word doesn’t remember your face, or your name, or when it happened, they will remember how it made them feel. These are scars that words can leave behind, and they are just as real the ones that come from sticks and stones.
Spread the word. End the word.
Are you ready to choose differently?
That’s a little harsh, haha. Nobody says you have to use it for any specific reason, but just be aware that you’ll be teaching different audiences depending on what you post
You’re right. I didn’t mean to get so upset…I just get frustrated with myself easily and I was being very hard on myself. Meg (psychojello) is giving me a bunch of awesome Twitter tips right now, and I feel heartened and ready to redouble my efforts. I will not go quietly into the night! [insert rest of Bill Pullman’s Independence Day speech here]
I’m not sure if you’re still writing a book (?) but I guarantee your editor will suggest you start a Twitter, might be nice to just leave it up for now and not force yourself to post rather than starting all over during the press phase of your book
I am indeed still writing my book. The editor with whom I’ve been e-mailing is actually on the verge of giving me a final answer about whether or not her company will publish my book. That is a good idea though, to perhaps leave it for now and use it when it’s time to promote the book…
All right, I just…there’s too many people to respond to who just reblogged/replied to my prior post (psychojello, goodtimemusic, chaotic-neutral), so I’ll say what I want to say here, which is that Twitter seems to be not the right site for me. It was suggested to me to create one to promote myself, but clearly I suck at it and I’m too damn verbose for Twitter because I can’t get any of my thoughts down to 140 characters, so let’s just conclude that it’s pointless and I should give up on it.
Make a secret silly twitter. Mine started off professional and devolved into updates on my wine intake
Some people have 2 accounts. One professional and one personal. The personal one to allow them more freedom.
…But it sort of defeats my purpose here, which is that I want my professional account to gain followers. I want that to be what represents me on Twitter. I have Tumblr to be silly on, and I just…I guess I want to be taken seriously and know that people are actually interested in my writing and career. I feel so stupid even trying to explain this, ugh…
Same. But then, that’s how I feel about Tumblr and Facebook, too. I just do what I did in high school and live in my own world and get startled and confused when someone talks to me. hahaha
Haha. Well, that’s the other thing…I was in my own world in high school, but I also desperately wanted to be part of the rest of the world. I just never knew how and it was an unending source of sadness and frustration. So that is exactly what I am feeling with Twitter now….that I want to be part of things but have no idea how and instead of being sad it’s making me angry because I have vowed that I will never again let anyone or anything make me feel like I did in high school. Argh…
the trick to twitter is just to tweet about nonsensical random, stream of thought stuff. I had a tough time at first and I legit just started tweeting about what I was thinking or doing. It doesn’t have to be meaningful, just has to come from you.
But that’s the problem…my Twitter is supposed to be “professional.” I created it specifically to share updates about my career, my writing, and other such things. And because of that, I can’t tweet nonsensical random stream of thought things, or things like what I write here on Tumblr. So I am much more limited in what I can tweet to interest people, and it is very frustrating.