3 days ago • 9 notes
Hari Raya Aidilfitri is great. Personally, it trumps my birthday, your birthday or that person's birthday because everyone celebrates it in their own special way. That “special way” sometimes involves stuffing kuih mor into our mouths to the point where there’s no use in putting on make-up anymore (does no one else do that?) It’s a time to feel like princesses and princes, or at the very least, the King’s footman (as in, you get to wear nice clothes. Even footmen need to wear nice clothes!)
Hari Raya also means seeing people you haven’t seen in so long. So long, in fact, that they have forgotten what you answered last year in these following Frequently Asked Questions!
When the TV was showing the countdown to Azan Subuh, I walked into my room to realise that I’ve completely forgotten to eat my pills. As the TV started its first Allahuakbar, I looked up to my ceiling, going, “I wonder if I can cheat Allah and just eat my pills now.”
It was then I realise I’ve gotten really silly lately.5 days ago • 0 notes
So @TheCapitolPN tweeted this
which was promptly deleted. (G-Bb-A-D are the notes to Rue’s whistle.)
But if you had clicked inspect element before it was deleted
"You silence our voices, but we are still heard."
HOW COOL IS THIS MARKETING?!?! Like the rebels are hacking into the capitol’s twitter!!!!
(via popculturebrain)1 week ago • 98,654 notes
Anonymous said: Towards the whole "pronouns hurt people's feelings" topic. Am I REALLY the only person on the planet that thinks people are becoming far to sensative? Nearly to the point that they shouldn't leave their little home bubbles in the case that a bird chirps next to them in a way that sounds like a mean word. Maybe, JUST MAYBE, we're becoming a little TOO coddling and people need to learn to deal with simplistic shit like words. And yes, I've been insulted and made fun of. I got over it. So can you.
1 week ago • 27,241 notes
Supposedly invented by the Chinese, there is an ancient form of torture that is nothing more than cold, tiny drops falling upon a person’s forehead.
On its own, a single drop is nothing. It falls upon the brow making a tiny splash. It doesn’t hurt. No real harm comes from it.
In multitudes, the drops are still fairly harmless. Other than a damp forehead, there really is no cause for concern.
The key to the torture is being restrained. You cannot move. You must feel each drop. You have lost all control over stopping these drops of water from splashing on your forehead.
It still doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. But person after person, time and time again—would completely unravel psychologically. They all had a breaking point where each drop turned into a horror. Building and building until all sense of sanity was completely lost.
"It was just a joke, quite being so sensitive."
"They used the wrong pronoun, big deal."
"So your parents don’t understand, it could be worse."
Day after day. Drop after drop. It builds up. A single instance on its own is no big deal. A few drops, not a problem. But when you are restrained, when you cannot escape the drops, when it is unending—these drops can be agony.
People aren’t sensitive because they can’t take a joke. Because they can’t take being misgendered one time. Because they lack a thick skin.
People are sensitive because the drops are unending and they have no escape from them.
You are only seeing the tiny, harmless, single drop hitting these so-called “sensitive” people. You are failing to see the thousands of drops endured before that. You are failing to see the restraints that make them inescapable.