Gorilla lives matter? I hope you seriously choke. White People come collect your cousins, they are typing out there asses again.
This is literally how they see Black People discussing serious matters. As a fucking joke, like its some sort of gimmick. It’s so sad that a bunch of idiots on the internet could honestly make me hate a gorilla.
leonardo da vinci was a year younger than christopher columbus.
stalin, freud, Ttto, trotsky and hitler walk into a bar……no really, it’s possible since they all lived in vienna in 1913.
aristotle tutored alexander the great.
abraham lincoln was twelve when napoleon bonaparte died.
an unusually well-traveled person in 5th century BC could have conceivably met confucius, lao tze, the buddha and socrates over the course of a seventy year life.
pharaohs and mammoths existed at the same time.
pocahontas and william shakespeare died, in the same country, less than a year apart from each other.
•Hitting with a closed fist/beating •Bruising/Cutting/Burning a child on purpose •Verbally insulting/yelling at them constantly, especially when they’ve done nothing wrong •Manipulation •Neglect
Those are all examples physical, verbal and psychological abuse. Examples of things that are not child abuse include:
•Spanking •Taking you child’s phone, other electronics and/or other privileges away •Letting them know when they’ve done something wrong •Raising your voice •Grounding •Reasonably punishing them for bad grades
Understand that punishment is sometimes necessary in order for some children, teens and adults to learn what is and is not okay to do. People on tumblr are always preaching about how not everyone learns the same when it comes to academics, the same goes for behavior.
Some children need reward/positive reinforcement to do what they’re told, a few children don’t need anything, and some children need a negative response to know that what they’re doing is bad. There’s nothing wrong with negative responses as long as it doesn’t become abusive.
Spanking only works for toddlers and very young children. After say ten at MOST you really shouldn’t be spanking your kids because they’re old enough to be reasoned with.
Him painted his nails, that doesn’t mean he is gay, bisexual, pansexual, heterosexual or anything.
It means he painted his nails. He broke gender roles.
And gender and sexuality are two different things.
And his tweet about Frank Ocean wasn’t him “coming out” either. It’s a tweet and along with sexuality and gender, the tweet also said “favorite food” I don’t think it was particularly serious.
If you are a fan of Dan, (or Phil, or anyone for that matter) respect their privacy. Allow them to discover themselves and who they are and what them like, without being pestered with people asking them whether or not they are gay- or worse, while they are trying to find themselves, their “fans” tell them what they are.
You don’t know what Dan is. Dan knows Dan better than you. You know danisnotonfire.
If you are a fan of Dan (or anyone), be supportive, but respectful.
Yesterday was a pretty normal day for me, save for the fact that I didn’t sleep at all the night before. I was in the middle of playing Pokémon when my mom calls. She tells me, on the brink of breaking down, that my grandmother is dying. The person I valued more than my own life was on her deathbed. Of course my brother and I went down to see her. I came in, moved the curtain and there she was in the living room. Not in her chair, not on the couch. On a bed, unresponsive. She could hear us, but couldn’t talk back. For years I felt it creeping up and I thought I could be ready.
I was the most unprepared I’ve ever been.
You can’t prepare for this. All you can do is accept the inevitable and work through it.
The whole family was there, as well as neighbors, friends and friends of friends.
My uncle Nick did what he did best: cracked filthy jokes and drank. My cousin, aunts and mom were a mess. My brother and I were too, but we’re more quiet about it.
I went in the spare room to take a nap but was woken up an hour later by my brother.
“Dustin, come in the living room.”
I leapt from the bed and was greeted by my uncle Russell, my aunt Candice, cousin Cynthia, aunt Kelsey, my mom and brother all huddled around her. Even the cats were there. They knew. This was it. We all said our piece and at around 8:30 last night, my grandmother died. They came to pick up the body at 9, and I went to bed. I was..drained.
She was the toughest woman I ever knew. Beat cancer’s ass into the ground three different times before the final round. A whole 4'9" of momma bear. You lay a hand on her kids or grandkids and she would ensure you never used that hand again. Everybody loved her, and she loved everybody, but she had a special love for me. I remember going to see the Powerpuff Girls Movie with her when I was five. I was her Bubbles. She would chaperone school trips and we’d raise some hell. We had all kinds of fun. Going to the dollar store, making pirogies, having Christmas at her place(one Christmas for my dad’s family, one for my mom’s) and just doing what sounded fun. And even though her Bubbles was at heart her Boomer and I became more withdrawn as I grew up, that bond never broke. My love was a quiet one. Silently peeking in her bedroom when everyone else was asleep to check on her, drawing all kinds of things for her and always keeping her in mind. I was her heart and soul, and she was mine. Doctors said she had a month to live. That was almost six years ago.
It feels…surreal. As if this is a dream, but…it isn’t. I woke up at about 4am and sent to check the living room. I knew it wasn’t a dream but I had to look. Her body was gone. It’s 4:30 now and I’m sitting on the sofa in the living room. Her bed is still here, pocketbook and medicine on the table beside it.
It’s so empty without her here. It’s eerie.
We will never forget her, and I will honor her memory the best way I know how.
I’ve ordered a special ash holder and chain. “My grandma, my best friend” engraved on it.
I remember a joke she told me when I was five.
“Where do ashes come from? They come from ash-holes.”
I went to a Catholic school then and told the nuns. They weren’t happy about it, heh.
That’s how she’ll be remembered.
Tough, funny, loving, honest, generous, sweet.
That’s my Grammy.
do you ever like… hear somebody make a joke about how sad they are and everyone else is laughing but you’re sitting there like: i gotta help this guy. holy shit are you okay bud. nice joke but for real i’m here when you need me we can talk about anything no judgement
