The Times of a Future Traveller

The Times of a Future Traveller

Life is always worth living

21,082 notes

storysurfer:





Hey everybody, I’m working on a small project concerning the four Hogwarts houses, and I’d appreciate your help,if you’re willing. Here’s how:
Please reblog this only if you are a Slytherin
only reblog once, or you’ll throw off the numbers
also, please do not heart, it’ll throw off the numbers too
any violations I find will be noted!
if you are a Gryffindor, please reblog this.
if you are a Ravenclaw, please reblog this.
if you are a Hufflepuff, please reblog this.
Thank you all for your help!
PS: If you’re not sure which house you’re in, pick one! But first, if you haven’t, take the Pottermore quiz.
Edit: Thank you for participating! Here is a link to the results I got.

storysurfer:

Hey everybody, I’m working on a small project concerning the four Hogwarts houses, and I’d appreciate your help,if you’re willing. Here’s how:

  • Please reblog this only if you are a Slytherin
  • only reblog once, or you’ll throw off the numbers
  • also, please do not heart, it’ll throw off the numbers too
  • any violations I find will be noted!
  • if you are a Gryffindor, please reblog this.
  • if you are a Ravenclaw, please reblog this.
  • if you are a Hufflepuff, please reblog this.

Thank you all for your help!

PS: If you’re not sure which house you’re in, pick one! But first, if you haven’t, take the Pottermore quiz.

Edit: Thank you for participating! Here is a link to the results I got.

(via stareena)

2 notes

pyrotechnician:

Sometimes the band geek inside you just bursts through and you can’t help but play your part to songs that you memorized by heart

I remember this! I think I actually liked this song…

pyrotechnician:

Sometimes the band geek inside you just bursts through and you can’t help but play your part to songs that you memorized by heart

I remember this! I think I actually liked this song…

420,866 notes

rustboro-city:

svviggle:

kastortheunlockable:

stunningpicture:

My 7 year old son was shot down by his 1st grade teacher

The american public education system in a nutshell tho

My third grade teacher actually had a conversation with my mom that I was reading to well and told her to stop having me read at home

My first grade teacher said that it was problematic that I was reading ahead of the rest of the kids in my grade and asked my parents to stop letting me read Harry Potter.
My fourth grade teacher thought it was wrong for my dad to be teaching me complex math because it fascinated me.
My elementary school music teacher hated the way my piano teacher taught me, and how I was more advanced than many of her students, and so told me, in front of my peers and my mother, that I was not good enough to participate in the state solo festival. She would not give me the form. We had to procure it from the district instead. She also hated how I excelled at reading and playing music for the recorder, and so she refused to give me my “belts” (colored beads to signify our level) and humiliated me in front of the class repeatedly.
My eighth grade algebra teacher used to fail me on take home tests because I didn’t solve problems exactly the way she showed us in class; I used methods that we had learned for other types of problems that also applied to these. She took points off my tests because I didn’t bring a calculator even though I got 100% without it, because I was able to do it by hand. I had to call my father, who is an engineer, down to the school to shout her down and give me back my A in the class.
My 10th grade Spanish teacher yelled at me in front of the class numerous times because she didn’t like the way I took notes; she thought that since I didn’t write every word off the slide, I wasn’t getting it all down. I had to explain to her that people who have taken advanced courses, like AP or IB classes, know that in a fast-paced learning environment you need to take quick shorthand notes that contain the necessary information rather than wasting time writing every word. She almost gave me detention.
My 11th grade English teacher gave me a poor mark on my first short essay because she believed that I was looking up unnecessarily complex words in a thesaurus to try and get better marks. The phrases in question: “laced with expletives” and “bombarded”. She wouldn’t hear any defense from me.
My 11th grade history teacher failed me on an essay about the 1950s because I misread the prompt. Except the prompt wasn’t words; it was a political cartoon. One of the figures was clearly president Eisenhower, but the other I couldn’t place. My teacher would not tell us who it was. I labelled him as the governor of Little Rock Arkansas during the integration period, and wrote an essay about that subject. My teacher said that no, it was Joseph McCarthy, and that there was a small picture of the man in our textbook and therefore I should have recognized him instantly. Half the class, apparently, did not.
The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.

My 8th grade English teacher told me that I shouldn’t write conversations in my stories because she hadn’t taught us that yet, even though I could write dialogues correctly already. When we took the 8th grade writing test, I made a perfect score. She wouldn’t give me the test score back. I found out from my principal because I was the only one to get a perfect score. 

rustboro-city:

svviggle:

kastortheunlockable:

stunningpicture:

My 7 year old son was shot down by his 1st grade teacher

The american public education system in a nutshell tho

My third grade teacher actually had a conversation with my mom that I was reading to well and told her to stop having me read at home

My first grade teacher said that it was problematic that I was reading ahead of the rest of the kids in my grade and asked my parents to stop letting me read Harry Potter.

My fourth grade teacher thought it was wrong for my dad to be teaching me complex math because it fascinated me.

My elementary school music teacher hated the way my piano teacher taught me, and how I was more advanced than many of her students, and so told me, in front of my peers and my mother, that I was not good enough to participate in the state solo festival. She would not give me the form. We had to procure it from the district instead. She also hated how I excelled at reading and playing music for the recorder, and so she refused to give me my “belts” (colored beads to signify our level) and humiliated me in front of the class repeatedly.

My eighth grade algebra teacher used to fail me on take home tests because I didn’t solve problems exactly the way she showed us in class; I used methods that we had learned for other types of problems that also applied to these. She took points off my tests because I didn’t bring a calculator even though I got 100% without it, because I was able to do it by hand. I had to call my father, who is an engineer, down to the school to shout her down and give me back my A in the class.

My 10th grade Spanish teacher yelled at me in front of the class numerous times because she didn’t like the way I took notes; she thought that since I didn’t write every word off the slide, I wasn’t getting it all down. I had to explain to her that people who have taken advanced courses, like AP or IB classes, know that in a fast-paced learning environment you need to take quick shorthand notes that contain the necessary information rather than wasting time writing every word. She almost gave me detention.

My 11th grade English teacher gave me a poor mark on my first short essay because she believed that I was looking up unnecessarily complex words in a thesaurus to try and get better marks. The phrases in question: “laced with expletives” and “bombarded”. She wouldn’t hear any defense from me.

My 11th grade history teacher failed me on an essay about the 1950s because I misread the prompt. Except the prompt wasn’t words; it was a political cartoon. One of the figures was clearly president Eisenhower, but the other I couldn’t place. My teacher would not tell us who it was. I labelled him as the governor of Little Rock Arkansas during the integration period, and wrote an essay about that subject. My teacher said that no, it was Joseph McCarthy, and that there was a small picture of the man in our textbook and therefore I should have recognized him instantly. Half the class, apparently, did not.

The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.

My 8th grade English teacher told me that I shouldn’t write conversations in my stories because she hadn’t taught us that yet, even though I could write dialogues correctly already. When we took the 8th grade writing test, I made a perfect score. She wouldn’t give me the test score back. I found out from my principal because I was the only one to get a perfect score. 

(via icey-athena)

125,079 notes

officalsailoramerica:

musesandlovelydays:

Guys, please I need your help. I know this isn’t Disneyland or DisneyWorld. It’s my dream college. I want to go to FIlm school, I want to become a director and it’s been my dream to become one. I have so much passion for film making It’s ridiculous. My dream college is over 1,101 miles away from where I live. At first my mother and I were not on the same perspective. She thought I was crazy and would never make it. However, the college called me and found interest in what I can do! I knew that was my chance, so I spoke to my mother again, and unfortunately she hardly agreed this time either. Then I thought of Tumblr, we got a kid to go to DIsneyland, and heck we got a girl a bird! So why not college? If this can get to over 100k notes she says she’ll get one step closer in letting me attend my dream college! I know this might be asking a lot but please help me show my mom that I can make it and chase after my dreams! One reblog can help so much! xx 

Please signal boost this everybody!

officalsailoramerica:

musesandlovelydays:

Guys, please I need your help. I know this isn’t Disneyland or DisneyWorld. It’s my dream college. I want to go to FIlm school, I want to become a director and it’s been my dream to become one. I have so much passion for film making It’s ridiculous. My dream college is over 1,101 miles away from where I live. At first my mother and I were not on the same perspective. She thought I was crazy and would never make it. However, the college called me and found interest in what I can do! I knew that was my chance, so I spoke to my mother again, and unfortunately she hardly agreed this time either. Then I thought of Tumblr, we got a kid to go to DIsneyland, and heck we got a girl a bird! So why not college? If this can get to over 100k notes she says she’ll get one step closer in letting me attend my dream college! I know this might be asking a lot but please help me show my mom that I can make it and chase after my dreams! One reblog can help so much! xx 

Please signal boost this everybody!

(via lesbianspiderqueen)

212,314 notes

My Parents are Dead and My Sister is Disabled

congalineofdurin:

cockismybusiness:

team—wolverine:

therealbarbielifts:

eisforedna:

On May 28th, my sister, Edna, turned 31.

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Her mental age is about three years old. She loves Winnie the Pooh, Beauty & the Beast, and Sesame Street. Even though the below picture is unconvincing. 

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Edna and “Cookie.” I think she was trying to play it cool. 

My name is Jeanie. I’m Edna’s younger sister. I’m also her guardian and caregiver. 

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That’s me on the left. (Hey, you never know. After a year of writing a blog about online dating - Jeanie Does the Internet - I’ve come to learn that there are A LOT of fools on the internet.) 

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ANYWAY, I’m not “doing the internet” anymore. I’m taking care of Edna full-time, after completing my MFA in Writing for Screen & Television at USC.

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May 16, 2014. I wanted a picture. Edna wanted breakfast.

In case you’re wondering where our parents are, they’re dead. Our mom died of breast cancer when she was just 33. 

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Us with mom before she died. (Obviously.)

As for our dad, he peaced-out around the time my mom got sick. His loss - we’re awesome. 

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Here we are being awesome at the beach. Pushing a wheelchair in the sand? Not so awesome. 

In case you’re wondering “What’s wrong?” with my sister - as a stranger once asked me on the street  -  NOTHING. Yes, Edna has a rare form of epilepsy - Lennox-Gastaut syndrome - but I don’t know if that’s anymore “wrong” than people who don’t have manners. 

Basically, Edna was born “normal,” and started having seizures as a baby. They eventually got so bad that they cut off the oxygen to her brain, causing her to be mentally disabled. Or impaired. Or intellectually disabled. Or whatever you want to call it - except “retarded,” because in 2010, President Obama signed Rosa’s Law into effect, replacing that word with “intellectually impaired.” 

Which is cool and all, but services for the disabled and the people who care for them are SEVERELY LACKING. Also, there’s a bunch of people working in taxpayer-funded positions who are supposed to help families like us, but don’t. (Big surprise, I know.) They just fill out paperwork (whenever they feel like it) with asinine statements like this: 

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YUP. I transport my sister down the stairs in her wheelchair, because that is not only safe, but TOTALLY PRACTICAL. Why doesn’t everyone in a wheelchair just take the stairs, for God’s sake? Stop being so lazy, PEOPLE WITHOUT WORKING LEGS! 

But, as it says above, Edna’s legs do work. Whether or not she wants them to, is another story. 

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Edna refusing to go inside. 

These are the stairs that I have to carry her up - by myself - on a daily basis. That is, until one of my legs break and both of us are just sitting at the bottom of the stairs, helpless. 

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For six months, I have begged - BEGGED - the State of California to help my sister, which they are required by law - The Lanterman Act specifically - to do so. But they’ve told me “these things take time” and that I “need to amend my expectations.” (That was said to me when I refused to place Edna at AN ALL-MALE CARE FACILITY. Because yes, that was an “option” that was offered to me.) 

Prior to Edna moving in with me in my one-bedroom apartment, she was living with her amazing caregiver, Gaby, back in Tucson, where we went to high school and I did my undergrad. Edna’s reppin’ the Wildcats below. 

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But back in November, Gaby also died from breast cancer. (FUCK YOU, BREAST CANCER!) This picture was taken a month before she died. She never even told me she was sick because she didn’t want me to worry. 

By the way, we were raised by our grandma. Edna and her were very close.

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She’s dead, too. Surprise.

She died when I was 20 and Edna was 21. That’s when I became Edna’s legal guardian and Gaby stepped into the picture to help me out with Edna. 

So, six months ago, after Gaby died, I moved Edna to California, where I tried to get the folks over at The Frank D. Lanterman Regional Center to help me. I’ve told them I’m worried about our safety - that one of us could get hurt on the stairs -  I’ve told them I can’t afford to pay the private babysitters $15/hour because the ones social services sent me who make $9/hour were unreliable (they didn’t show up on time or at all so I could get to school and work), untrustworthy (one of them let Edna go to the bathroom in the kitchen and then took her into the bathroom because “that what I thought I was supposed to do.”) 

But the people over at the FLRC don’t return my calls, they don’t file the paperwork on time - and the first caseworker that was assigned to us actually LAUGHED AT my sister when he came to our home to evaluate her. When I reported him to his supervisor, she told me, “That’s just [insert name of said jackass].” 

He was one of the two caseworkers that contributed to the report I mentioned above, which also included this: 

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So let me get this straight - I have to feed, bathe, dress and help Edna in the bathroom and you can’t deduce whether or not she is able to vote? What in the fuck?!

Now I realize I seem angry. And you can bet your balls I am. I’m also sad. Sad for those who don’t have family to stick up from them and who waste away God knows where, monitored by no one. Or monitored by people who physically and sexually assault them

I’m also sad for the caregivers who are SO EXHAUSTED - trying to take care of their loved ones - while also trying to take care of themselves and battling a system that is supposed to help, but does nothing of the sort. And I know a lot of people give up. They let their dreams, their marriages, their friendships slide. All while trying not to resent the very person you’re doing it all for.

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Edna wanted to sit next to me the other day while I was writing. Clearly, she’s not impressed. 

Here’s the thing: I REFUSE TO GIVE UP. I’M NOT GIVING UP ON HER OR MYSELF. I’m going to pursue my dreams while taking care of her, AND while ensuring that the people paid to do their jobs ACTUALLY do them.

That’s where you come in. I need you to help me get my story out there. Because I know I’m not alone in this. I want to connect with families who are in similar situations and also show people who have no idea what it’s like to care for someone with a disability (or even a loved one who is sick) that it can be rewarding. Super fucking hard. Exhausting. Painful. Isolating. But, rewarding. 

I’m going to get help for my sister - and others. My hope is that by sharing our story, I can bring awareness to the lack of services and help for the disabled. 

Thank you, 

Jeanie 

Facebook:  facebook.com/eisforedna

Twitter: @EisforEdna 

This made me cry

SIGNAL BOOST

STOP SCROLLING. THIS PERSON ISN’T ASKING FOR MONEY AND THIS POST WON’T MAKE YOU SAD.

This is a really uplifting and inspirational story of a family sticking by each other and making things work despite a whole lot of shit

They just want to find other people in the same position they are, for a sense of community and to feel like they aren’t alone.

I know out of all of you, some of you have followers who are living with and taking care of intellectually or emotionally disabled family members, and this lovely and unbreakable pair of sisters need to find them.

SIGNAL BOOOOOOOOOST

(Source: , via theresnotragedyinthat)