what if they were just tired and not at all in any way romantically involved what then someone give me a fanfiction quick
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Philosophy Friday: Open Minds
Something I often struggle with is the validity of my own personal beliefs. I am convinced I cannot be right about everything. I know this, because no one else is.
I look at conservatives, for example, and I see people who are wrong about almost everything. Offensively so; I prefer even the worst leftists to them. And yet I ask myself, how did they get these opinions that I think are wrong?
The answer I would give is that they were likely influenced by their parents to adopt a particular political stance and have filtered everything in their life through it. And yet, aren’t I the same way? My father is a literal college liberal (he is a professor), and I think it is safe to say I believe what I do now in large part because of him. I still look to him for advice and wisdom. Am I any different?
I can say that those on the right are largely confined to echo chambers, that they read conservative news sources and seek out conservative viewpoints. But again, I am no different. To be honest, I rarely read things written by rightists. I find any news source that proclaims itself “conservative” to inevitably be vile, and those who read it ignorant and crass. I have no doubt that liberal media is just as sensational; I just like to think it isn’t as bad. (Huffington Post has a bad habit of writing eye-catching headlines that are totally irrelevant, for instance.)
I might say that my own refined sense of reason and logic is what sets me apart. But I hardly hold a monopoly on those things. I have no doubt that I could find an opponent, somewhere, who was at least as knowledgeable as I, although probably only as easily as I could find any other person who was. I believe in the same things believed by many people who do not scrutinize them as closely as I do, and yet I don’t think them wrong because of it. Are they just lucky, or am I in the wrong?
In truth, I can find nothing that sets my political beliefs particularly apart from anyone else’s. I try to be more well-researched, and verify things I find difficult to believe. But is this enough? What do I believe blindly without verifying? I must be wrong about something, but what?
I doublecheck my beliefs. It is a constant search, and I can never be truly sure. What if I am abandoning something prematurely? What if I simply don’t have the evidence at the moment? I can always come back, thankfully. But it’s rare I find something I really think I’m wrong about, and I must be wrong about more things than that, it’s just a statistical inevitability.
It’s heartening to hear of people who adopt completely different political stances. It shows that we are not locked in our paradigms. But doing so does not actually make your new beliefs right. Nor does it make you enlightened or reasonable. Indeed, you were likely just as ignorant and stubborn as you are with your new beliefs. (Ragingconservative07 is a good example of this. He claims he used to be a liberal. I imagine he was the same kind of liberal as he is a conservative.)
So I say beware. Never be so sure of what you believe in. Never be satisfied by it, feel smug because of it, use it to feel superior. You will be wrong, if not now, then inevitably, as you wallow in your biases. Beware, and think upon why you believe what you believe, what evidence you have to support it. It’s better to give up on politics than to persevere without thought.
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This is an old family picture.
My family does not support my being in the LGBTQIA community. They actually are opposed to it. They tell me every day that its disgusting and that it’s sinful and I’ll go to hell for liking women.
I moved out when I was seventeen, and in January I moved back in with them because I couldn’t handle everything that was going on. Every day one of my five siblings tells me to go back to Minnesota. My little brother Charlie (the black baby in the picture) is now 8 and he constantly physically attacks me and tells me that I’m not his sister and to leave. My other siblings make it very obvious and clear that they don’t want me here and my parents tell me constantly that they’re gonna kick me out soon.
I’ve been saving every penny for a bus ticket to Oregon to stay with my best friend and today I found this picture in my sisters’ room ON DISPLAY. Not hidden. On display. They cut my face out of the picture.And that… That was just the last straw.
I don’t care if anyone reblogs this or whatever, I don’t wanna get popular, I just want people to know that this is not what a family looks like. This is not something people should have to go through.This is no life.
via Just A Suggestion....
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“you shouldn’t be depressed, people have it worse than you”
finally, after years of searching, the person with the worst life ever is found. formally, they are granted permission to be sad. but only them. only they have earned it. no sads for anyone else at all ever
via Right in the Qualia.
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For Sale: A Video of Toronto Mayor Rob Ford Smoking Crack Cocaine»
This is almost zero percent surprising, even the part where the mayor of the largest city in the country is smoking crack, even the part where he did it on video, even the part where he calls the members of his beloved high school football team “just f—-ing minorities”, even the part where he associates with Somali gangsters, even the part where he’s been found out, even the part where his brother and other members of his political inner circle allegedly also buy drugs from the same people. Rob Ford is the absolute worst. The only surprising part is the implied allegation that Don Cherry also smokes crack. At least that would explain his wardrobe.
That it’s on Gawker isn’t even detrimental to this story because it’s been seen by, you know, real journalists, too.
(Source: rye-and-ginger)
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![tributary:
brownp0wer:
sexysilverfox:
too-precious-for-this-w0rld:
deanandsamaresoulmates:
hedgehog-in-the-tardis:
thebakerstreettimelord:
ladymangoberry:
jeremyrenners-butt:
warblertrevor:
one-big-fandom:
mechanical-girl:
[snipped for criminal .gif usage and generally insipid commentary about shipping real people]
*GRABBY HANDS*
They laughed awkwardly, shifting away from each other. Both of them had just woken up much a much needed nap: the officer from pulling long hours, and the soldier just coming back from his tour. They’d not gotten much sleep at all and managed to find some peace on the subway. Neither one of them had planned to make a total stranger a pillow though. It was the soldier who had woken up first, confused and bleary from his nap. He wasn’t sure what woke him up; maybe it was the shuffle of people leaving the car, or the drunk guy in the corner singing off-key to himself.
Or maybe it was the warm figure that has planted itself to his side. He looked down, mildly surprised to see a man about his age sleeping on his shoulder. His mouth was slightly open, and much to the soldier’s amusement, he was drooling a little.
Adorable. His mind whispered as the officer subconsciously shut his mouth.
He was a little disappointed when the other man woke up, and now his side was cold as the officer rubbed his arm nervously.
“I’m sorry-“ The officer began to say before the solider shook his head.
“Never thought the army would make me a comfortable pillow.” He joked weakly. The officer stared at him before he began to laugh. The solider ignored the way his insides warmed at the noise as he too began to laugh.
Before he knew it, he was inviting the officer out for some coffee.
Before he knew it, he was falling in love.
Before he knew it, they were moving in together.
Before he knew it, he was buying a ring.
And then they had a house. Children. The future.
And every night, he could look down at the man sleeping next to him and smile. To think his life began on a subway, falling asleep with a stranger in blue on his shoulder.
what if they were just tired and not at all in any way romantically involved what then someone give me a fanfiction quick
It was the woman with the bag who woke them. She didn’t mean to, but her son called, and her ringtone sounded like the buzz of a drunken wasp funneled through a megaphone. Or something.
The man in blue took a moment to catch his bearings, realized what he was doing, and sat up with a start. “Sorry, sorry,” he said to G.I. Joe, who wiped spit off of his sleeve with an expression typically reserved for house pests that require the exterminator. He glared daggers at the other man from under the brim of his hat.
“The hell, dude? I just got that dry cleaned.”
The man in blue apologized profusely, like a man apologizing profusely after falling asleep on a stranger’s shoulder. A stranger who was probably proficient with guns and smelled like bad mens’ body spray.
The men went home that night and complained to their pets—G.I. Joe had a cat, and Blue Man had some anime figurines—and were thoroughly embarassed.
But he wasn’t, he being the shadowy rider in the back. He had snapped a perfect picture and was going to creepily post it on tumblr.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m5zzyf87nK1r1kwjno1_500.jpg)
[snipped for criminal .gif usage and generally insipid commentary about shipping real people]
*GRABBY HANDS*
They laughed awkwardly, shifting away from each other. Both of them had just woken up much a much needed nap: the officer from pulling long hours, and the soldier just coming back from his tour. They’d not gotten much sleep at all and managed to find some peace on the subway. Neither one of them had planned to make a total stranger a pillow though. It was the soldier who had woken up first, confused and bleary from his nap. He wasn’t sure what woke him up; maybe it was the shuffle of people leaving the car, or the drunk guy in the corner singing off-key to himself.
Or maybe it was the warm figure that has planted itself to his side. He looked down, mildly surprised to see a man about his age sleeping on his shoulder. His mouth was slightly open, and much to the soldier’s amusement, he was drooling a little.
Adorable. His mind whispered as the officer subconsciously shut his mouth.
He was a little disappointed when the other man woke up, and now his side was cold as the officer rubbed his arm nervously.
“I’m sorry-“ The officer began to say before the solider shook his head.
“Never thought the army would make me a comfortable pillow.” He joked weakly. The officer stared at him before he began to laugh. The solider ignored the way his insides warmed at the noise as he too began to laugh.
Before he knew it, he was inviting the officer out for some coffee.
Before he knew it, he was falling in love.
Before he knew it, they were moving in together.
Before he knew it, he was buying a ring.
And then they had a house. Children. The future.
And every night, he could look down at the man sleeping next to him and smile. To think his life began on a subway, falling asleep with a stranger in blue on his shoulder.
It was the woman with the bag who woke them. She didn’t mean to, but her son called, and her ringtone sounded like the buzz of a drunken wasp funneled through a megaphone. Or something.
The man in blue took a moment to catch his bearings, realized what he was doing, and sat up with a start. “Sorry, sorry,” he said to G.I. Joe, who wiped spit off of his sleeve with an expression typically reserved for house pests that require the exterminator. He glared daggers at the other man from under the brim of his hat.
“The hell, dude? I just got that dry cleaned.”
The man in blue apologized profusely, like a man apologizing profusely after falling asleep on a stranger’s shoulder. A stranger who was probably proficient with guns and smelled like bad mens’ body spray.
The men went home that night and complained to their pets—G.I. Joe had a cat, and Blue Man had some anime figurines—and were thoroughly embarassed.
But he wasn’t, he being the shadowy rider in the back. He had snapped a perfect picture and was going to creepily post it on tumblr.
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