“I may not be as theologically sophisticated as American bishops, but I had thought that Jesus talked more about helping the poor than about banning contraceptives…birth control is not a frill that can be lightly dropped to avoid offending bishops. Coverage for contraception should be a pillar of our public health policy — and, it seems to me, of any faith-based effort to be our brother’s keeper, or our sister’s.”—Nicholas Kristof, in his NY Times Op-Ed Beyond Pelvic Politics (via nothingfalseabouthope)
Sorry to spam your dashes with a sappy romantic post guys, but it’s a a special occasion. Today (leap day!) marks four years with the love of my life. I think it’s kind of cool that we’re a leap year couple - we met in November 2007 and made things “official” Friday, February 29, 2008 - four years ago today. We were babies. We basically grew up together.
This guy can start a conversation with anybody about anything. Honest. It’s probably one of the things I love most about him. He’s just genuinely fascinated by what people have to say. He also sings in the shower, and he’s not bad. He gets rap songs stuck in my head. He’s not afraid to work those hips on the dance floor. And sometimes he picks me up and spins me around when we meet after a long time apart. He’s equal parts brainy and goofy; a little bit of a bro but more of a history nerd deep down; he can talk your ear off about the Safavid dynasty one minute and then shotgun a beer or light up a blunt the next. It’s pretty endearing, actually.
I can’t imagine my life without Alex. He’s helped me through some of the worst shit I’ve had to deal with in my entire life, and he’s still there for me every single day without complaint. Sometimes he drives me crazy, sure, but he also saved my life. He dropped everything for me when no one else would. He sang me a cappella Coldplay songs when I was depressed. He drove 500 miles round trip every weekend for five months to see me and take care of me. Then he moved to Seattle for me. You can’t really ask for much more than that.
There’s nothing I can say that could come close to capturing how I feel about this guy, except that I love him more than I ever thought possible. Thank you for making me feel beautiful and loved at a time in my life when I needed it most. I can’t wait for our future together. Happy anniversary, baby. I love you always.
“If you’re really gonna do this you’d better get a move on. Right now, there are models waking up from their coke binges; multi-ethnic bartenders with daddy issues; former ballerinas who had to quit because their boobs got too big… They’re coming, Liz. Click click. That’s their stilettos. Click click.”—Jenna, 30 Rock
My body seems to operate in two diametrically opposed modes: Never Go To The Gym Ever mode or Go To The Gym Every Fucking Day mode (by which I mean like, five days a week). I can’t really explain it, but it’s pretty much all or nothing when it comes to me and exercising regularly. And since I’m currently in a gym-happy phase, here are my observations:
“Craters. Burned houses. Mutilated bodies. Women weeping for children and husbands. Men for their wives, mothers children. The public have a right to know what our government, and our armed forces, are doing in our name. Our mission is to speak the truth to power.”—Marie Colvin, Sunday Times journalist. R.I.P 1956-2012. (via its-london-calling)
“So who is a journalist? A journalist - good or bad - possesses a hunger to pursue the truth and to share it in compelling ways.”—Ellyn Angelotti writing today in the New York Times on how we can distinguish between journalists and non-journalists when ideally it is the story that should count, not academic qualifications. (via henryctaylor)