I’ve learned that if someone threatens my peace of mind, self-respect, or self-worth… I must walk away. I owe it to myself… I owe it to my future.
Steve Maraboli (via tanya-nicole)
All credit to @thefrizzkid for the original (the pink)
“Maybe I want to keep running away.” “Fine. Then run. Keep running. Run until you think you’ve escaped all this. But the moment you stop, the moment you settle, the moment you start to fall in love again, everything you’ve done and everyone you’ve hurt? It will all catch up to you. I can promise you that.
from an unfinished story #439 (via thoughts-into-ink)
I always get asked if I’m pro-choice. And I say yes. Then I get asked if I would ever have an abortion and again I say yes. And people are usually shocked by how open I am about it. But I am a children’s advocate. I’ve seen kids whose parents have had them too young. I’ve seen kids who are in foster care and children’s homes because of neglect and abuse. I’ve seen teen moms struggle and single dad’s. If I am not financially stable, mentally stable, or emotionally stable. I should not and I will not have children. I believe in the morning after pill, condoms, pulling out, and birth control. I can tell you when I am ovulating and can get pregnant and when I am not.
I am responsible. I am prepared. And if I were to get pregnant I am pro-choice.
Start with her fire. Start with her teeth. Start by pulling her down by the back of her neck, and kissing the past away. - You’re standing on that beach again, and your past is walking away. You can hear the slap of the waves on the shoreline, taste the salt of the ocean and the salt of her tears on your lips. (she hasn’t cried, not yet; you wonder if she’s incapable now, so hard are the lines on her heart – she hasn’t cried, but you can still taste them, coating the roof of your mouth) You’re standing on that beach again, for a different reason, with a different emotion weighing down your hearts— (heart?) —your past is walking, running, fading away. Your future holds your hand. - You kiss the pain away. You’re two nights into this new life and she’s not thinking about you, but she is, but she isn’t, and you wonder after what another you said earlier – about fire, and blood, and rage. You wonder at the way she bites your mouth, like she’s trying to eat you alive, and perhaps she is. You wonder at the way she holds you, at the way she likes the pain, at the way she loves it with company. You’re not so different in that regard – nowadays, you’re not so different in a lot of regards. - She was a goddess once. She’d taken the light of the universe and had cradled it inside, replaced her heart with it, for a bit. It had leaked through her smile and shone on you, seeped into you and you had cherished it, cherished her. She was a goddess once. Now she is a ruin of a temple, but you still look on her with reverence. - You hear her sobbing through her bedroom door when you should both be asleep, and you can’t help the breathless sigh coming through your parted lips. On the beach, you’d thought her incapable of tears, and you’ve never been so relieved to hear her cry. - You start with her teeth. You start with her tears. You pull them out and wipe them away, one by one, one by one. The second night she cries, you open the door and sit on the edge of her bed until she crawls her way into your arms. It’s hard for you too, and she knows it. But she’s always been selfish in that heartbreakingly human way, and she kisses you until she’s bitten the rotten-candy-apple-truth out of you. You’re hurting. You’re broken. Both of you, together. Perhaps it’s enough. - Start with the fire. End in the ashes. Sometimes, you miss the stars to the point of aching, miss your freedom to the point of breaking. She doesn’t cry much anymore. Sometimes she rests her head on your chest and frowns at the weak pitter-pat of one heart. Sometimes, her eyes get so dark and heavy with one memory or another. You know that look. You wore it, once, a life and a half back. You remember nicking your face shaving and cursing every species from humans to harpies. You remember waking up from a nap in the console room in a cold sweat, and you remember her patience, such godly patience even when you swore six ways from Sunday that she was nothing more than a stupid ape. She loved you then, you can love her now. Start with her fire. (be burned, just a little along the way) Then with her teeth. (she’ll be like a phoenix, darling) End in her ashes. (she’ll rise up again, and it will be worth it) It will be so worth it.
and, again | his-braveheart (via his-braveheart)
On March 4 the first quarter moon passes between Earth and the star Aldebaran, temporarily blocking our view of the star. This is called an occultation.
The occultation begins and concludes at different times, depending on where you are when you view it.
The event should be easy to see from most of the U.S., Mexico, most of Central America, the Western Caribbean and Bermuda.
Observers along a narrow path from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Hartford, Connecticut, will see the moon “graze” the star. The star will disappear and reappear repeatedly as hills and valleys on the moon alternately obscure and reveal it.
As seen from Earth, both Mercury and Venus have phases like our moon. That’s because they circle the sun inside Earth’s orbit.
Planets that orbit between Earth and the sun are known as inner or inferior planets.
Inferior planets can never be at “opposition,” which is when the planet and the sun are on opposite sides of Earth.
But inferior planets can be at “conjunction,” which is when a planet, the sun and Earth are all in a straight line.
Conjunction can happen once when the planet is on the opposite side of the sun from Earth and again when it’s on the same side of the sun as Earth.
When a planet is on the opposite side of the sun from Earth, we say it is at “superior conjunction.” As the planet moves out from behind the sun and gets closer to Earth, we see less and less of the lit side. We see phases, similar to our moon’s phases.
Mercury is at superior conjunction on March 6.
A few weeks later, the planet emerges from behind the sun and we can once again observe it. By the end of March we’ll see a last-quarter Mercury.
On April 20 Mercury reaches “inferior conjunction.”
Brilliant Venus is also racing toward its own inferior conjunction on March 25. Watch its crescent get thinner and thinner as the planet’s size appears larger and larger, because it is getting closer to Earth.
Finally, look for Jupiter to rise in the East. It will be visible all month long from late evening until dawn.
You can catch up on solar system missions and all of our missions at www.nasa.gov
Watch the full “What’s Up for March 2017″ video here:
Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com
All credit to @thefrizzkid for the original (the pink)
Ravi WIP
In case you thought only the CDC’s practices were questionable/criminal…
Earlier this May, the Associated Press reported that National Institutes of Health researchers tested AIDS drugs on hundreds of foster children in the late 1980s and ‘90s. In many instances, the drugs were given without independent advocates who monitor the safety of these children. Ed Gordon explores the controversy with two AIDS experts: Dr. Jonathan Fishbein of the National Institutes of Health and Baylor College of Medicine’s Dr. Mark Kline.
“Just because someone used to be an important part of your life doesn’t mean you have to continue to cling to the friendship when it begins to die. Your relationship was once something beautiful and fulfilling, and that’s a wonderful thing. But at a certain point, no amount of watering and nurturing will bring it back to full bloom. The fact that its deteriorated doesn’t mean you’re incapable of sustaining meaningful friendships. It doesn’t mean you’re not worth the time and effort it takes to maintain a connection. And it isn’t any sort of evidence that you’re a burden or a bad friend. It just means that the relationship has run its course. It means that you’ve evolved into different people or moved apart or just lost each other in the clutter and preoccupation of life’s everyday demands. But it isn’t a reflection on your value as a person and friend.It’s okay to mourn the loss of a relationship that used to have a special place in your heart. But if keeping yourself tethered to this person is causing more damage than healthy detachment and ongoing growth, it’s also okay to stop watering the friendship and let it die out. You don’t have to sacrifice your wellbeing for the sake of maintaining a relationship that doesn’t serve you anymore. You’re allowed to be picky when it comes to the people you let into your mental and physical space. You’re allowed to conserve your time and energy only for people who reciprocate. Because you deserve to feel seen and heard and cared for. You deserve relationships that make you feel fulfilled and connected. And no matter how long of a history you have with a person, you deserve to let go of any friendship that hurts you and forces you to prove your worth.”
Daniell Koepke (via internal-acceptance-movement)