crownsoflaurels1020:

cowlicklesschick:

One time one of my coworkers was talking about his daughter (who was only 5-6 at the time) and how he was already worried about boys, etc. once she got older. He wasn’t one of those dads, who would quite literally hunt down a teenage boy with a shotgun over some backseat shenanigans. He was just a concerned dad.

He asked me what my dad used to do to scare all of the boys away from me, or to at least make sure they were good to me.

My answer?

Example.

My dad never once said, “Katie, if a boy hits you, make sure to bring him back here so I can make him pay.”

Instead, my kind, gentle-soul dad expressed anger and utter contempt for men who beat their wives (and vice versa), and has never in his life raised his hand against me or my mother.

My dad never once said, “Katie, don’t go out with a boy who’s rude to the waitress.”

Instead, my father has treated every single server we’ve had throughout my entire life (except the rare ones who were rude first) with respect and courtesy.

My dad never once told my brothers to get up and offer the pregnant lady their seat on the subway.

Instead he was the first one to stand up, and smiled proudly when his young sons copied him when 2 other women boarded.

My dad didn’t raise me to only make good decisions when he’s there looking over my shoulder. He showed me what to look for in a man, not by preaching at me or declaring that he was the perfect mold. But his treatment of others (esp women) is the foundation for my standards when it comes to men.

So, parents, you want to make sure all of those Bad Apples stay away? Step one is to demonstrate what a Good Apple looks like, up close and personal.

Because if you’ve taught your daughters to respect themselves enough to have high standards, there won’t be any need for you chase any Bad Apples away. Your daughter will take care of that for you.

This is important. It’s also important to teach little girls that self help is always an option.

When I was eight I went to my parents crying because a little boy was routinely jumping me from behind when he passed me in the hallways and pulling my hair and it hurt.

My parents didn’t tell me that the boy must have a crush on me, or that I should cut my hair, or even to go tell a teacher (though that last one wouldn’t have been bad advice).

Instead, my dad knelt down and soberly said the following:

“That’s not ok. It’s never ok for someone to touch you in a manner you don’t like. If someone does that too you once, you ask them politely to stop and tell them you don’t like it when they do that. If they do it a second time, you look them in the eye and tell them loudly, “I’m feeling threatened and if you do that again I will defend myself.’ If they do it a third time, you break their nose.”

He proceeded to teach me how to break someone’s nose.

I’m sure people will debate the appropriateness of this advice, but I’ve only ever had to move past yelling “I’m feeling threatened” once. My dad wanted me to know, from an early age, that I wasn’t weak or entirely dependent on others to defend myself, he wanted to teach me that I had power too, and I should use it when necessary.

gallusrostromegalus:

So becuase I’m living in an appartment building and have no yard into which I may release Charlie when his little doggy bladder fills up, I end up walking him at strange hours of the night in all manner of weather, becuase I love him.

So tonight it’s single-digits and snowing, and while we’re walking back, I see a big gray tabby curled up with it’s back to us on the porch of one of the houses that’s not yet occupied.  It doesn’t look up at us when we pass by, or when charlie doubles back and starts climbing the stairs to sniff it.

Understandably worried that someone’s pet is lose or that one of the ferals is goign to be a kitty popsicle, I hurry home, collect the cat carrier and go back to the porch to bring kitty in from the cold.  Since I will probably need both hands to carry it back and there’s enough ambient light, I don’t take a flashlight.

Kitty must be very asleep becuase it doesn’t look up when I put the crate down, or when I walk up to it, but the *second* I touch just one of its little kitty fluffs, It’s head pops up with the loudest, deepest “brrp?” cat start-up noise ever.

…and I realize by the large tufted ears and buff shoulder muscles that the thing I am attempting to pick up is not an unusually large tabby.  

It’s the fucking Bobcat.

Fortunately, instead of maiming me, like my idiot ass deserves, it lets out a demonic YEEEAAUGH and flings itself off the porch, fleeing into the night, and I sit there waiting for my heart to start beating again, presumably to tell it’s bobcat buddies all about it’s attempted alien abduction.

So how is everyone else’s night going?

queeranarchism:

yourbigsisnissi:

Defense attorney co sign.

You make your attorneys job harder when you speak to the cops.

They will say you’ll get a shorter sentence if you cooperate. You won’t.

They will encourage you to reveal things once you’re at a grand jury. Don’t.

They will bring in other ‘not cops’ like a social workers, therapist, expert. Keep your mouth shut.

Talking never ever works. This has been studied again and again. For one example, read up on The Green Scare: https://crimethinc.com/2008/02/22/green-scared

I quote

“The Green Scare cases show that cooperating with the government is never in a defendant’s best interest. On average, the non-cooperating defendants in Operation Backfire are actually serving less time in proportion to their original threatened sentences than the informants.”

iandsharman:

the-last-hair-bender:

kireiwei:

caringsuggestion:

You’re not fake simply because you act differently depending on the person you’re with. Different personalities bring out different aspects of your personality. You’re complex and multidimensional; it’s beautiful.

in anthropology this is called “code switching” and it is a completely natural thing that pretty much everyone does.

Aka. This is called being an adult and learning how to interact with different groups of people.

My accent varies wildly depending on the social situation I’m in. It’s not a conscious thing, but, yes, it’s part of being a grown up and a basic survival instinct.