10 Things Emotionally Healthy People Know How To Do 


Of all the health concerns our culture claims to be concerned about, it is perhaps our emotional health that is most severely neglected. (It’s not the same thing as mental health.)

We’re comfortable talking about our recurring headaches, as we don’t feel their presence makes a statement about us. They’re disassociated from who we believe ourselves to be. But we know our emotions are result of who and how we are, and in a desperate plight to preserve the sanctity of our self-idea, we hide. Ironically, that’s where the trouble comes in: it’s the parts of us we suppress and ignore are the parts that become silent, insidious, controlling monsters. (It’s referred to in psychology as “shadow selves.”)

Talking about how one gets from there to here, at the place of emotional health, is another topic altogether (and would require books worth of writing to fully flesh out) so in the meantime, I gathered the 10 elements of an emotionally healthy person. This hypothetical hybrid of positivity probably doesn’t exist, but these are, nonetheless, worth considering (and maybe striving for.)

1. Emotionally healthy people know how to listen to their pain.

Emotional stress and discomfort is a signal that there’s a better way, that something’s misaligned. It’s always directing us toward something better, more aligned with who we are and want to be. The only challenge is getting past whatever made us ignore it in the first place.

2. They know to observe thoughts objectively, and not identify with them.

You are not your thoughts. You are not your feelings. You are the being that observes, reacts, uses, generates and experiences those things. This is to say: you can’t control them, but they don’t control you. You choose what you think about. You choose what you allow to pass. (And when you can’t allow yourself to let things go, you’re trying to tell or show yourself something. Pay attention.)

3. They can see within them the things they dislike in others.

One more time for the people in the back: you love in others what you love in yourself. You hate in others what you cannot see in yourself. When you practice self-identifying every time you find yourself frustrated or inexplicably annoyed with someone or their behavior, you tap into an ultimate tool for growth, and the fastest route to creating a more peaceful existence for yourself. You’re no longer at the whim of other people’s behaviors, because ultimately, you were never angered by them… it always existed in you.

4. They’re able to differentiate loving something vs. loving the idea of it; to be conscious of why they desire something, not just that they desire it.

Ideas solve problems we make up in our heads. If we believe that we’re unworthy of love, we need the idea of a loving, doting partner who affirms how perfect we are to correct it. Without understanding that we want that love to fix something in us, we just think we desperately want love because we’re romantic, or because happy lives do not exist without it. But the people who are conscious of why they desire something are able to choose wants that are not based in solving a problem, but in something more genuine and healthy.

5. They know when it’s time to break up with a friend.

It’s often difficult to determine the line between ‘being committed to a relationship even when it isn’t sunshine and happiness,’ and ‘knowing when it’s time to step away from something that’s no longer a positive force in your life.’ Often we feel almost guilted into remaining close with people to whom we don’t actually feel obligation, and that is a recipe for emotional disaster. Emotionally healthy people can identify the people who are spiteful, jealous, or too wrapped in their own issues to not project them onto everybody else. Do these people need love and companionship too? Certainly. But sometimes walking away is the best way to do that. Most of the time, it’s the healthiest choice.

6. They live minimally, but realistically.

Emotionally healthy people know that no physical acquisition can shock them into feeling what they desire – not for more than a moment, anyway. So they forego the rat race and learn to be grounded in the simplicity of life. They want not and waste not, keep in their space only things that are meaningful or useful. They are mindful and intentional, grateful and wise with what they consume and keep.

7. They can be alone.

What you find in solitude is perspective. When you’re not in the presence of people with whom you must monitor your reactions and choose your sentences wisely, you can let yourself just be. It’s why we find it most profoundly relaxing, and why emotionally healthy people practice it often. When there’s nobody else around whom you must tailor your emotions, you can experience them fully.

8. They let themselves feel.

The core of every emotional issue is the belief that it’s not okay. It’s not the presence of it that’s harmful, it’s the resistance to it that ultimately screws us up. Emotionally healthy people know how to do one thing profoundly better than anybody else: let themselves feel anything and everything they’re going through. They know it won’t kill them. They know to set aside time to process. They know that contrary to the common belief, doing so is not a loss of control, but rather the route to being grounded and resolved enough to actually be fully present and centered… which is as “in control” as a human can be.

9. They do not attach to any one outcome being ‘good’ or ‘right.’

The moment you decide one outcome is the right outcome, you are also deciding that another outcome is the wrong one. Beyond this, some things work out the way we intend for them to, others don’t. This is a gift, too.

10. They see the value and purpose of each and every experience.

The point of anything is not what you get from having done it, it’s who you become from having gone through it. It’s all about growth, at the end of the day. The bad things grow you and the good things do too. (And in reality, ‘bad’ is only what you’re taught or come to believe isn’t ‘right.’) The point is: it’s not about how much you get right, it’s how much you get better, and every experience – the good, bad, terrible, wonderful, confusing, messy, great – does just that. In the words of Johanna de Silento, “the only way to fail is to abstain.” TC mark

Why Internships Are Bullshit

A few months after I graduated, I was sitting at home watching YouTube videos of Mary-Kate Olsen trying to speak when I saw that one of my favorite magazines, Interview, was looking for summer interns. “This is your moment, Ryan!” I thought. “Pick up your confidence that you keep locked in that storage unit in Queens and apply, dammit!” So I did it—I drove to Queens, got my confidence out of storage (it had grown considerably since I’d seen it last, thank God), and applied for the internship. A few days after submitting my résumé, I got a response back asking me to come in for an interview at their intimidating office in Soho.

Vibrating with excitement, I picked out my best “I am not disabled; I am NEW YORK MEDIA!” outfit and hightailed it downtown to meet with Grace, one of the editors, for a sit-down chat. Grace seemed nice enough, but she did look a bit worn down. It seemed like this job had stolen her spirit and was keeping it hostage in the cat food aisle at Rite Aid. The way she carried herself and the cadence in her voice gave me the impression that the world was perpetually taking a giant dump on her face—a glamorous, couture dump, but a dump nonetheless. Despite her sad vibes, the two of us got along nicely and I felt confident that I had aced the interview.

When Grace called me a few days later and said that I had gotten the internship, I was overjoyed and then immediately terrified. This wasn’t a touchy-feely “We understand your brain damage!” magazine. It was an avant-garde New York FASHUN publication that represented physical perfection, and here I was, ready to limp all over it.

It only took thirty minutes into my first day at work to realize that, disabled or not, it was going to be nearly impossible to get a real job at the magazine. Grace was giving me a tour of the office (“This is where you cry after a long day,” “This is where you get told you’re a retard by your chic power lesbian boss”) when, all of a sudden, a flustered assistant came rushing up to her.

“Grace, we need a new magazine rack. The ones we have are falling apart!”

“Are you kidding me?” Grace scoffed. “We can’t afford that.”

“Um, they’re, like, five dollars. I’ll just pay for it.” 
“Okay, fine. You pay.”
 The assistant slumped away, and Grace continued on with her tour. “This is the Ping-Pong table that no one ever uses because we’re not allowed to have fun here . . .” (She wasn’t actually saying these things but she might as well have with the way she was delivering the information.) I was shocked. How could this magazine ever afford to hire me if they couldn’t even afford a five-dollar magazine rack? Weren’t magazines supposed to have money? The office might’ve been glamorous and the editor in chief was some globetrotting Anna Wintour–type, but apparently everyone else who worked there was hanging on by a thread—emotionally, spiritually, and financially.

One such person was Hannah, a twenty-four-year-old assistant to the entertainment editor, with whom I worked closely. Since Grace was often crying in a broom closet somewhere, I relied on Hannah to give me things to do. The second I met her, I went into overdrive by sending her pitch after pitch—one of which was a fashion editorial inspired by the Manson family that I don’t think went over well. Hannah was sweet, though. She listened to my ideas and encouraged me to scout new music they could possibly feature in the magazine. I did as I was told, flooding her in-box with weird bands that I thought were going to hit it big and creating mini-bios for each group. Hannah took all of these into consideration and immediately got the vibe that I was a hungry tiger. She was calling me by my nickname “Rye” the second day.

It was important to make my presence known at Interview so I could set myself apart from the other interns—one of whom I swear to God was South African royalty. That always happens at internships. You’re always working with someone who’s an heiress or whose parents are famous. I have no idea why the wealthy even bother interning in the first place. Maybe they’re just looking for ways to kill time before they can marry a wealthy guy named Tad who works in finance and wants to do anal on his birthday.

I was never going to get noticed at Interview for my photocopying abilities, so the only other way to make an impression was to showcase my story ideas. This worked in my favor most of the time until Hannah snapped at me one day and said, “You need to focus less on pitches and fulfill more of your intern duties!” She was absolutely right. I wasn’t really doing any of the typical intern work, but that’s because I was laughably bad at it. She quickly realized this when, after she ordered me to do the thing I feared most—open mail—I spent thirty minutes trying to work the letter opener and ended up ripping the contents of the envelope. Sheepishly, I walked up to Hannah, torn envelope in my hand, and apologized for the mistake. She looked annoyed but, sensing the humiliation that was practically radiating from my pores, she took pity on me. “It’s okay, Rye,” she smiled. “Why don’t you go uptown to Bret Easton Ellis’s hotel and drop off this manuscript for me?”

Despite all evidence to the contrary, I thought that if Hannah called me by my nickname and gave me positive affirmations, I would somehow get a job. But nothing could’ve gotten me a job at Interview. I could’ve been braiding my boss’s hair and married into the family and it still wouldn’t have translated to a paycheck. It wasn’t anything personal against me. There was just no money to go around. The people who were actually salaried usually ended up doing two jobs for little money. In fact, for the three months I was there, the editorial assistant left to go work at another magazine and instead of immediately hiring someone to fill the position, they had an intern do the job for free. At first, the intern was overjoyed. “Yes!” they thought. “This could be my ticket to getting a real job here.” But after months of hard work for no pay, they fired the intern and had someone outside the company fill the position.

As much as I wanted to be offered a job, I left Interview disillusioned with the magazine world. Everyone came here to be a part of something they saw on TV, but the reality didn’t come close to matching up with the fantasy. TC mark

Ryan O’Connell has written for Thought Catalog, Vice, Medium, and The New York Times, as well as for MTV’s Awkward. He lives in Los Anjealous. Follow him on Twitter @ryanoconn.

Copyright © 2015 by Ryan O’Connell. From the forthcoming book I’M SPECIAL: AND OTHER LIES WE TELL OURSELVES (PREORDER HERE) by Ryan O’Connell to be published by Simon & Schuster. Printed by permission.

21 Absolutely Heartwrenching Quotes On Loss And Grief

 Evdokimov Maxim
Evdokimov Maxim

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”

— Edna St. Vincent Millay

“Everyone can master a grief but he that has it.”

–William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”

–Vicki Harrison

“It is 4am.
Your perfume is on
Everything, on me
On all the world – you
Are all around, you
Are all of my tattered
Senses and no poetry,
No song, no writing,
Nothing in the world
Will make this better.”

–David Jones, Could You Ever Live Without?

“It’s so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.”

–John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent

“My life is like a stroll upon the beach,
As near the ocean’s edge as I can go”

–Henry David Thoreau, The Fisher’s Boy

“Grief is the price we pay for love.”

–Queen Elizabeth II

“When someone you love dies, and you’re not expecting it, you don’t lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time — the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone. Just when the day comes — when there’s a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she’s gone, forever — there comes another day, and another specifically missing part.”

–John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany

“What we have once enjoyed deeply we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.”

–Helen Keller

“The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief – But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.”

–Hilary Stanton Zunin

“I don’t think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that remains.”

–Anne Frank

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”

–Anne Lamott

“I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone-you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence.”

–Alyson Noel, Evermore

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

–Washington Irving

“… And here am I, budding

among the ruins

with only sorrow to bite on,

as if weeping were a seed and I 

the earth’s only furrow.”

–Pablo Neruda, “Lightless Suburb”

“There are no happy endings.
Endings are the saddest part,
So just give me a happy middle
And a very happy start.”

–Shel Silverstein, A Light in the Attic

“Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows, which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.”

–Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hyperion

“My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,
So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.”

–Emily Dickinson

“While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. You must wait till it be digested, and then amusement will dissipate the remains of it.”

–Samuel Johnson

“Sometimes, only one person is missing, and the whole world seems depopulated.”

–Alphonse de Lamartine, Méditations Poétiques

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen nor even touched, but just felt in the heart.”

–Helen Keller TC mark

When You Love A Person Who Comes From A Broken Family


When you meet someone who comes from a broken family you probably won’t know it right away. They’ll do their best to blend in, to watch their words, to make sure they seem like everyone else. It’s a habit they’ve picked up over the years. How easy it is to look like all the rest. How easy it is to perform the same dance and routine.

Wear the right clothes. Say the right things. Don’t let your guard down. Never allude to the fact there’s something missing.

And what is missing? It’s the question that continues to haunt them. Was it losing their parent at a young age? Was it the divorce, the abuse, the memories that can’t seem to go away? Was it because they had to grow up faster than everyone else? Not every broken person shares the same story and their story lives inside of them triumphantly defiant, an anchor holding the weight of their heart down, but the hollowness feels eerily similar all the same. They don’t know how to quite pinpoint when it all seemed to fall apart. All they know is that they fell. Hard.

When you start dating someone from a broken family at first it might all seem too easy. That’s because it is. You’ll ask them about their upbringing, their background, what their family’s like, and without blinking they’ll gloss over the ugly details with just enough relevant information you’ll actually believe you’re getting the real story. It’s not that they’re trying to be deceptive or misleading. They just know it’s easier this way. For both of you.

They know no one wants to hear about the long nights spent in the hospital waiting room wondering if their father’s okay and no one wants to talk about how their mother fucked them up or how their sibling was an addict or about how the pain from a broken home still lingers in the back of their mind regardless how many times they will it away. No, none of these are great first date topics. Even second, third, fifth dates just never seem appropriate for this kind of insight into their life. They’ve inherently always felt strange, in a way they don’t know how to communicate, in a way they hope won’t make you walk away from them and deem them unloveable forever.

In the beginning they’ll keep it up – this nervous charade. Letting you in just enough to know the way their lips taste when they get drunk enough to kiss you in public but just far away you’ll never know what they’re like in the morning when their hair is messy and they’re quiet in their movements. It’s the game they play keeping you close enough to the wall but never so close you might actually get the chance to break through. It’s not fair, they know, but they aren’t sure how to love someone in any other way.

By now they’ve learned the subtle way to bite the inside of their lip and let the blood flow when you mention your family, the home you grew up in, the holiday traditions you’ve known for years. These things make them uneasy, jealous, even a bit threatened, in a way you’ll never be able to understand. They don’t know what that’s like – to know you can go back to the same address you knew as a kid. They don’t know what that’s like – to know you can go back to the same people you knew as a kid. Stability has always come at a cost to them and because of that they’ve learned to never expect anything from anyone.

They’ll keep it up and keep it up until you’re both exhausted and weary, rolling around in bed sheets, laughing about something completely mundane, when they realize in a moment they’ve let their guard down. A moment that means nothing to you can mean everything to them. They’ve been longing for this – this undividedness and sense of belonging they can actually touch. So they think for a moment maybe this is a place they can get comfortable – the space between you and them isn’t that far, really, when they think about it. They wonder for a moment if they could even call this space with you home, and if, for once, they might actually have found something real, something tangible in another human being. Immediately they push the thought away and remember they’re not good enough for something like that. A home. Love. A relationship that could actually work. No, these are not the things that happen to bad people, to broken people, to people who come from an unconventional home.

So that’s what you must remember when you love a person from a broken family – there will be days when they simply feel like they don’t deserve you or your love or this beautiful life you’ve created together. It’s the feeling deep down on their darkest days that they’ll never be enough. When you love a person from a broken family don’t try to fix their issues or understand everything about where they came from – just a little bit of space for them flourish is all they need to grow. TC mark

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8 Struggles Every Intuitive Perceiver Encounters In The Workplace

The Office
The Office

1. Having to follow standardized procedures.

Perceptive, intuitive types see the big picture rather than the intricate details – which means that doing something for the sake of a formality is endlessly frustrating to them. If they know a project is going to get approved, why wait a week for the official go-ahead to come through? That’s wasted time. Let’s just start now and keep quiet about it. Right, guys? … Guys?

2. Being quick to pick up on things but slow to follow up on them.

Intuitive perceivers quickly see the general principles behind systems they are presented with: Which means they tend to “Wow” their employers by their innate understanding of the workplace during the first week or two. The downside of this is that they start to lose momentum once the day-to-day drudgery of working takes over: just because they picked up on a concept with ease doesn’t mean they’ll remain stimulated by it – which happens to be a dire requirement for the intuitive perceiver when it comes to working efficiently.

3. Wanting autonomy but requiring structure.

NP types are creative problem solvers – they enjoy speculating various solutions to problems and dislike being bound to traditional methods of getting things done. That being said, this type thrives best in a structured environment – one where they are balanced out by judging types who can ensure that their plans are thoroughly carried out. Intuitive perceivers may comet to resent this type of environment, but at the same time they need it to really get anything done.

4. Constantly requiring a new challenge.

Perceptive, intuitive types thrive on rising to challenges and overcoming obstacles by channeling their creative thinking skills. If they manage to find a workplace that presents them with an endless flow of novel challenges, these types are happy as a clam. If, however, they find themselves stuck in a relatively static environment, where the work doesn’t change much day-to-day, it’s a disastrous recipe for restlessness. The more this type repeats the same mindless tasks, the more detached and consequently the more careless they become. When placed in static environments, intuitive perceivers actually may become worse at their job over time.

5. Disliking professional pleasantries.

Social niceties are torture for intuitive perceivers. Breaking communication down into a series of meaningless phrases seems unbearably futile. The client wants a service and we can provide it. Do we really have to talk about their day for twenty minutes first? And do I really have to call this client “Ma’am” while she’s yelling at me over the phone? It seems a little trite at this point.

6. The inclination to challenge any rule that doesn’t make sense.

If an intuitive perceiver doesn’t see the over-arching point of what they’re doing, they loathe doing it. These analytical types have a knack for intuitively understanding how a system could be improved upon and they quickly grow frustrated by having to adhere to inefficient guidelines. More than a few NP types have gotten themselves into hot water by arguing with their bosses about the nonsensical nature of how things are getting done – especially if their boss is someone who’s hard-pressed to sway from traditional methods.

7. The tendency to over-exert oneself when presented with various options.

If there’s anything a perceptive intuitive enjoys, it’s a new challenge or opportunity. NPs – particularly those of the extroverted nature – are inclined to experience the problem of their eyes being bigger than their stomachs, both in and outside of the workplace. They will quickly jump on board with new projects and may find themselves suddenly working incredible amounts of over-time – after all, they have so much to get done! Though they’re not sure where all of this extra work came from… they agreed to something three weeks back, right?

8. The insatiable need to progress paired with the equal and opposite need to explore other options.

Intuitive perceivers are highly aware of opportunities that exist in their external environment – this means they’ll be speculating about climbing the corporate ladder to the top of the company before they’ve even walked into their interview. Their ambition is fierce, but so is their wandering eye. Intuitive perceivers are aware of all options that are available to them – both in and outside of the company. Their tendency to flit from career to career means they may never climb to the top of any corporate ladder – but they sure will half-scale quite a few. TC mark

14 Dialogues From Movies And TV That Perfectly Sum Up Why Love Is Both Wonderful And Awful

The Perks Od Being A Wallflower
The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

Sam: Why do I and everyone I love pick people who treat us like we’re nothing?
Charlie: We accept the love we think we deserve.

The Perks Of Being A Wallflower

Charlie Kaufman: There was this time in high school. I was watching you out the library window. You were talking to Sarah Marsh.
Donald Kaufman: Oh, God. I was so in love with her.
Charlie Kaufman: I know. And you were flirting with her. And she was being really sweet to you.
Donald Kaufman: I remember that.
Charlie Kaufman: Then, when you walked away, she started making fun of you with Kim Canetti. And it was like they were laughing at me. You didn’t know at all. You seemed so happy.
Donald Kaufman: I knew. I heard them.
Charlie Kaufman: How come you looked so happy?
Donald Kaufman: I loved Sarah, Charles. It was mine, that love. I owned it. Even Sarah didn’t have the right to take it away. I can love whoever I want.
Charlie Kaufman: But she thought you were pathetic.
Donald Kaufman: That was her business, not mine. You are what you love, not what loves you. That’s what I decided a long time ago.


Dan: And you left him, just like that?
Alice: It’s the only way to leave. “I don’t love you anymore. Goodbye.”
Dan: Supposing you do still love them?
Alice: You don’t leave.
Dan: You’ve never left someone you still love?
Alice: Nope.


 Love & Basketball
Love & Basketball

Monica: I’ll play you.
Quincy: For what?
Monica: Your heart.

Love & Basketball

Spike: The last time I looked in on you two, you were fightin’ to the death. Now you’re back making googly-eyes at each other like nothing happened. Makes me want to heave.
Buffy: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Spike: Oh, yeah. You’re just friends.
Angel: That’s right.
Spike: You’re not friends. You’ll never be friends. You’ll be in love till it kills you both. You’ll fight and you’ll shag and you’ll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you’ll never be friends. Love isn’t brains, children, it’s blood. Blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer | Season 3, Episode 8

Paul Varjak: I love you.
Holly Golightly: So what.
Paul Varjak: So what? So plenty! I love you, you belong to me!
Holly Golightly: No. People don’t belong to people.
Paul Varjak: Of course they do!
Holly Golightly: I’ll never let ANYBODY put me in a cage.
Paul Varjak: I don’t want to put you in a cage, I want to love you!


Paul Varjak: You know what’s wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You’re chicken, you’ve got no guts. You’re afraid to stick out your chin and say, “Okay, life’s a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness.” You call yourself a free spirit, a “wild thing,” and you’re terrified somebody’s gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you’re already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It’s wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.

Breakfast At Tiffany’s


Amy: Wait, are you falling in love with her?
Theodore: Does that make me a freak?
Amy: No! No, I think it’s… I think anybody who falls in love is a freak. It’s a crazy thing to do. It’s kind of like a form of socially acceptable insanity.


Mr. Darcy: Miss Elizabeth. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you… I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family’s expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.
Elizabeth Bennet: I don’t understand.
Mr. Darcy: I love you.

Pride & Prejudice

Noah: Would you just stay with me?
Allie: Stay with you? What for? Look at us, we’re already fighting.
Noah: Well that’s what we do, we fight… You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99% of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you’re back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing.
Allie: So what?
Noah: So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What’s it look like? If it’s with him, go. Go! I lost you once, I think I can do it again. If I thought that’s what you really wanted. But don’t you take the easy way out.
Allie: What easy way? There is no easy way, no matter what I do, somebody gets hurt.
Noah: Would you stop thinking about what everyone wants? Stop thinking about what I want, what he wants, what your parents want. What do you want? What do you want?

The Notebook

Olivia: I don’t have to drive you away. You’re married. You have children. You’re the leader of the free world. You are away. By definition, you’re away. You’re unavailable.
Fitz: So, this is about Mellie.
Olivia: No! This is…I smile at her and I take off my clothes for you. I wait for you. I watch for you. My whole life is you. I can’t breathe because I’m waiting for you. You own me. You control me. I belong to you…
Fitz: You own me! You control me. I belong to you. You think I don’t want to be a better man? You think that I don’t want to dedicate myself to my marriage? You don’t think I want to be honorable? To be the man you voted for? I love you. I’m in love with you. You’re the love of my life. My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t sleep without you. I wait for you. I watch for you. I exist for you. If I could escape all of this and run away with you…there’s no Sally or Thomas here. You’re nobody’s victim, Liv. I belong to you. We’re in this together.

Scandal | Season 2, Episode 8

Slumdog Millionaire
Slumdog Millionaire

Jamal Malik: I knew you’d be watching.
Latika: I thought we would meet only in death.
Jamal Malik: This is our destiny.
Latika: Kiss me.

Slumdog Millionaire

Will: You missed Pudge Fisk’s home run?
Sean: Oh yeah.
Will: To have a fucking drink with some lady you never met?
Sean: Yeah, but you shoulda seen her. She was a stunner.
Will: I don’t care if Helen of Troy walks in the room, that’s game six! Oh my God, and who are these fucking friends of yours who let you get away with that? 
Oh, they had to.
Will: What did you say to them?
Sean: I just slid my ticket across the table and I said, “Sorry guys, I gotta see about a girl.”
Will: I gotta go see about a girl?
Sean: Yeah.
Will: That’s what you said? And they let you get away with that?
Sean: Oh yeah. They saw in my eyes that I meant it.
Will: You’re kiddin’ me.
Sean: No, I’m not kiddin’ you, Will. That’s why I’m not talkin’ right now about some girl I saw at a bar 20 years ago and how I always regretted not going over and talking to her. I don’t regret the 18 years I was married to Nancy. I don’t regret the six years I had to give up counseling when she got sick. And I don’t regret the last years when she got really sick. And I sure as hell don’t regret missin’ the damn game.

Good Will Hunting

Harry: I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and the thing is, I love you.
Sally: What?
Harry: I love you.
Sally: How do you expect me to respond to this?
Harry: How about, you love me too?
Sally: How about, I’m leaving?
Harry: Doesn’t what I said mean anything to you?
Sally: I’m sorry, Harry. I know it’s New Year’s Eve. I know you’re feeling lonely, but you just can’t show up here, tell me you love me, and expect that to make everything all right. It doesn’t work this way.
Harry: Well, how does it work?
Sally: I don’t know, but not this way.
Harry: How about this way? I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you’re looking at me like I’m nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.
Sally: You see? That is just like you, Harry. You say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you, and I hate you, Harry. I really hate you. I hate you.

When Harry Met Sally

Grey's Anatomy
Grey’s Anatomy

Meredith: I lied. I’m not out of this relationship. I’m in. I’m so in, it’s humiliating, because here I am, begging…
Derek: Meredith…
Meredith: Shut up. You say Meredith and I yell, remember? Okay. Here it is. Your choice? It’s simple. Her, or me. And I’m sure she’s really great. But Derek, I love you. In a really, really big… pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me.

Grey’s Anatomy | Season 2, Episode 5

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5 Real Sex Stories That Will Make You Really Horny (Part III)


1. Seduced by my best girlfriend during a high school study session.

It’s natural to develop a homoerotic bond with a really close friend when you’re a teen, but my childhood bestie Maddie—who was always advanced for her age, sexually—took things further than most.

Late afternoon one school day, Maddie and I were in my room, lying on my bed. We were supposed to be studying for a History test, but Maddie was too giddy to concentrate. She kept messing around, flipping textbook pages before it was time, whispering silly things in my ear.

Next thing I knew, we were wrestling—and soon enough, Maddie had pinned me, straddling me at the waste and holding my arms down above my head so I was paralyzed on my back. “I’m bored of studying,” she said, “and I’ve got a better idea anyway.” Then she whipped a bottle of lotion out of her backpack’s front pouch. “I’m going to give you a massage,” she said, devilish but charming.

Before I could argue, Maddie had lifted up my shirt and started smoothing lavender scented lotion all over my midsection, tickling me here and there. I bit my bottom lip as she inched her way north to cup my perky B-cup breasts with delicate vigor. Looking straight into my eyes, she leaned down ever so slowly, as if to kiss me on the lips, but at the last second she darted towards my nipples and started sucking. Simultaneously, she flexed her hips back and forth so our crotches rubbed together. I’ll never forget the warm sensation that blossomed from my vagina and metastasized throughout my insides at that exact moment. For the next half-hour or so, Maddie worshipped my entire body. With Maddie’s face between my legs and her tongue tickling my clitoris, I orgasmed for the very first time.

To this day, Maddie and I are friendly—flirtatious, even—but we’re both dating guys and we’ve never revisited that level of intimacy. I think she just wanted to teach me something. Bless her for that magical lesbian lesson.

— Taylor, 28

2. Enticed by a stranger’s skillful popsicle sucking.

I’ve always had a weakness for the sight of a woman devouring a popsicle. I mean, come on. Nothing’s hotter than a woman inadvertently blowing the most phallic dessert out there—licking it from base to top and then pursing her lips over its tip as she sucks the sweet juices out. Summer’s my season, you could say.

Anyway, one day I was walking my dog Scottie in the park when I laid eyes on this beautiful punk twenty-something with blue hair, wearing purposefully torn fishnet stockings, a cropped t-shirt, and the shortest shorts possible. She was seated on a bench, enjoying an ice pop. The thing about this girl is that she seemed to know exactly what she was doing to guys as they passed by. I watched her engulf that popsicle methodically, inviting men to substitute penis for pop and to enjoy the scene vicariously—to believe that she was their personal sex kitten, dutifully practicing her oral skills. What a cock tease, I thought. But I was impressed.

So I sidled on up to her and introduced myself. When she told me her name was Jane, I sensed she was lying, but I didn’t care. Jane wanted sex, and I wanted to give it to her. I tied my dog’s leash around the bench, grabbed her by the hand, and ushered her to a clearing in the woods on the edge of the park where I figured we’d be safe from detection. We didn’t bother getting naked. We fucked in the grass like wild animals and screamed so loudly as we climaxed together, I’m shocked we didn’t get caught. Jane (if that’s even her name) is fucking amazing.

— Marcos, 35

3. Employed as the neighborhood’s naughtiest babysitter.

The summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college, I took a job babysitting for a family down the street from my parents’ house mostly because the kids’ dad, Rick, was so fucking hot. I treasured every precious second I got to spend with Rick alone while his Stepford Wife touched up her makeup before they went out at night. It was my devious mission to steal a kiss from him by the end of the summer.

By some miracle, I got my chance way sooner than I thought I would. One Friday night I wasn’t scheduled to work, Rick’s wife called at the last minute and asked me to babysit. Rick was sick, she explained, so he couldn’t really watch the kids, and she felt obligated to attend a cocktail party they’d committed to. Obviously, I accepted.

I put the kids to bed an hour early and knocked on the master bedroom door to check in on Rick. If he was really feverish and sick, I figured I’d pat his head and kiss him on the forehead. Creepy, maybe, but I was crazy attracted to the man.

Rick opened the door in a pair of boxers and a robe he’d left untied, showcasing his perfectly tanned six-pack. As soon as our eyes met, I knew in my gut that he’d faked being sick just to be there with me. I’d never felt so wanted, or so fucking horny. I could see the bulge start to form beneath Rick’s underwear as I approached, but he insisted on taking things slowly. He closed the blinds and pulled me in for a long, deep, passionate kiss. Then he glided his hands through my hair and down my sides and legs, tracing my figure. The foreplay seemed to last for hours, and I soaked in every minute. By the time Rick was fucking me from behind, I was so hungry for his dick I could barely see. We had sex all over the house, in every position possible, while the kids slept and his wife sipped champagne and nibbled on tiny quiche. I orgasmed five times, a personal record I have yet to beat.

A few Fridays later, I was thrilled to hear that Rick was feeling under the weather again. That was a summer I’ll never forget.

— Natalia, 24

4. Exploited (willingly) by my wife’s best friend.

About five years ago, my wife decided that we should lease a house in Jamaica for a week in February with two of her former sorority sisters and their painfully uninteresting husbands. I was reluctant, but I figured what the fuck since I like the beach enough to entertain myself for a week on any island.

On our third night there, we all decided to rent a boat for a kind of private, grownup booze cruise. We all got pretty drunk as the sun set and I was having a way better time than I’d thought I would.

Then the craziest thing happened. I exited the bathroom down below deck to find my wife’s best friend from college standing right there, clearly waiting for me. She didn’t say a word. Instead, she shoved me, hard, into the corner. I was wedged between a giant cooler stocked with beer and a few life jackets, drenched in pitch black darkness, when she yanked my pants down and started sucking on my dick right then and there. I couldn’t believe it—any of it—but I didn’t want it to stop, so I didn’t say a word. I let her suck and slurp and massage me with her tongue and hands. She was talented (better than my wife, if we’re being honest), and she managed to swallow every single drip of my come.

Then, without a word, she stood up and took her turn in the bathroom. I pulled up my pants and headed back to the main deck, shocked but happy. Neither of us has ever acknowledged what happened.

— Derek, 32

5. Tempted by a Hollywood bigwig in the most awesomely clichéd way.

At twenty-five, I was on the rise as a hot young neophyte actress. I had just starred in a string of commercials for a national fast food chain and an indie flick that did respectably well at the box office, so the next step was to land a part in a blockbuster.

On the day of my scheduled meeting with the big shot producer who held my fate in his hands, I took a warm bubble bath and practiced how I’d greet him while looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. I wore platform wedge sandals, a short skirt, and a blouse with a plunging neckline. (I’ve never been naïve enough to think that looks don’t matter.)

What I didn’t expect is that I’d be attracted to the guy. He wasn’t conventionally handsome—he was a bit overweight, and average in height—but he had this energy. This charisma! This power! I wanted him immediately, and I let myself fall into the clichéd casting couch trap he laid out for me.

Within five minutes of entering the executive suite, my shirt was off and my hand was on his crotch. He scooped me in his arms, carried me across his expansive corner office and set me down on a black leather reclining char. We had sex right there and I can still picture the floor to ceiling views of Los Angeles that made the whole thing that much more remarkable.

Yes, I was merely a plaything to him, but I was never dumb to that fact. I wanted to play vixen as much as I wanted a role in the man’s next hit film. I didn’t get the career defining gig, but whatever. Great sex, no regrets.

— Serena, 27

17 Things Only Chronic Optimists Understand


1. You know that being optimistic does not necessarily equate to being naive. It is possible to walk through the world each day with a positive attitude, while still understanding the way things work and the fact that sometimes, things are going to be difficult or painful or challenging.

2. You learned a long time ago that sometimes things are going to suck, and that most of the time, you can’t control those situations. But you also learned that things often suck a lot less if you work hard to maintain a positive outlook.

3. You can never resist a book or article or internet post that contains inspirational quotes.

4. Even though you know it’s often accurate, you have a hard time taking your weather app seriously when it says it’s going to rain.

5. The worst moments in your life are also the ones in which you believe your optimism is the most crucial. It’s always easier for you to get through a difficult time period when you tell yourself that tomorrow will be better. Maybe not tomorrow tomorrow, but some tomorrow in the near future – you’ll get there, as long as you keep fighting.

6. Rafiki from The Lion King is just as smart to you today as he was when you first met him 20 years ago.

7. Some people see winter storms as a cold, uncomfortable inconvenience. But you get through your commute home from work by telling yourself that tomorrow will be a snow day… regardless of the fact that you’re not in 5th grade anymore.

8. As Eleanor Roosevelt said, “A stumbling block to the pessimist is a stepping stone to the optimist.”

9. For the amount of times that you’ve made fun of the “#blessed” hashtag, you can still appreciate it for the point it’s trying to make.

10. Sometimes people confuse being an optimist with being bulletproof. They think that because you always look at the bright side, you’re less sensitive and less at risk for getting hurt. But, on the contrary, you’re just as emotional and vulnerable as everybody else around you.

11. There are plenty of times when your optimism can get in your own way, though. You rarely carry an umbrella, you underestimate how much time it will take you to get somewhere, you sometimes put faith in people who let you down. You’ve come to learn that life is a constant struggle between trying to be optimistic and practical, and you’re okay with the fact that you’re always going to be fighting to achieve that balance.

12. Your hangovers usually end up being a lot worse than you expected them to be.

13. You understand that everybody has bad days, even those who do their best to live every day optimistically. But you also understand that there’s a difference between allowing yourself to be sad and disappointed, versus living your life in a constant black hole of negativity.

14. Your mantra has never been to simply sit back and hope that good things happen to you. Rather, you’ve trained yourself to believe that good things can happen, as long as you work your ass off and do whatever is in your power to help get yourself to that good place.

15. Bad things might happen along the way too, like heartache and failure and pain. It’s part of life and there’s always a chance that things will go wrong. But the only thing you know for sure is that you won’t get anywhere by standing still and waiting for goodness to come to you.

16. The little things can not be underestimated. Coffee, humor, hugs, sunlight, Friday’s. The world can still be dark, but it’s a lot better when you’re appreciating the small things.

17. There’s always going to be a million reasons not to do something. But if everybody believed that, some of the most successful people in the world would have amounted to nothing. You believe that everybody, including yourself, is going to try to give you a reason not to try. Which is often just a sign that you should try harder. TC mark

When You Have Missed Them For 365 Days

 Trang Nguyen
Trang Nguyen


You kiss me in your bed.
I tell all of my roommates you are probably the one.
And I think maybe you are.
I still do.


I see you on your birthday.
I drive over at 3 am because I think you might not be there in the morning.
I may find pieces of you scattered across Sunset Blvd.
You say,
“I need you.”
And I throw on shoes and run,
kiss bleeding knuckles
and let you collapse into me,
broken over another girl.
I kiss your forehead and rub your back.
I do not tell my roommates you are probably the one.
But I think you still are.
In street corners and things I hide from friends.
I spend the night,
but we do not have sex.
You kiss me deeply,
Do not remember the next morning.
I leave quietly.


I think of driving off a cliff.
And I know,
that’s extreme and honest and a thought my mother tells me shouldn’t be so loud,
shouldn’t be so public,
I remind her
if I don’t tell someone,
maybe my foot won’t hit the brakes next time.


It is one year since the incident.
I put three candles around me.
I light them,
immediately blow them out.
Feel a little like that’s what happened to me.
Without a fucking warning.


I am beginning to like him.
But not the way I felt for you.
I text you after I sleep with him.
But I remind myself this is good.
This is different.
That not all things start in combustion,
some flames are small to start.
We are the kindling right now and maybe that’s okay.
But he’s still not you.
So while things still sit without labels,
I meet another boy in Los Angeles.
He looks at me the way you did that night I wore the black dress.
I want to ask him if he knows
the way he is looking at me
and that it smells like future and potential and I could kiss him in the bar.
I kiss him in his house.


It is Valentine’s Day.
The boy I started to like,
let the fire build up with every touch,
tells me it isn’t really working.
The boy in Los Angeles doesn’t text back.
I am told he is dating a 19 year old.
And at 23,
that makes me feel like a hag.

I remember that you once said I would look good holding a baby,
which is a fucking weird thing to say.
But I keep hearing you say it.
and over.
It is my Lullaby
when I cannot sleep.


I do not talk to anyone. I cover myself in blankets and hibernate until people worry. I tell them it’s fine. But I keep looking at my Dad’s urn. I touch it. I wonder what being ash feels like. The ceiling could cave in and I would stay still. Waiting.


I tell my best friend how uninterested I am in sex,
with exceptions for fictional characters like Spike.
I am fighting nothingness again,
but then,
there you are.
You appear and everything feels like May 2014.
You are still in my pillowcase,
in the stands of my hair,
a ghost hanging out in my text messages.
I read them until I am nauseated with myself.

All this time.
It’s still you.
It will always
be you. TC mark


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Girl In A Band: 5 Great Books To Read This Summer About Leading Women In Rock Music

Growing up in the ’90s, bands and musicians like No Doubt, Alanis Morissette, Garbage, Veruca Salt, Hole, and so many others dominated my mixtapes. I was obsessed with alternative music and even more so if there was a female lead singer blaring their heart out on the microphone. With the arrival of summer comes the emergence of old classics from my youth. If there’s anything a great summer needs besides music it’s a great list of books to read as well. Here are a few favorite books from some of the most influential women in rock music.

1. Girls To The Front: The True Story Of The Riot Grrrl Revolution


You can’t talk about the Riot Grrrl and feminist revolution of the ’90s without also talking about Kathleen Hanna, lead singer of Bikini Kill, Le Tigre, and The Julie Ruin. In her book Girls to the Front, writer Sara Marcus goes back in history and looks at the roots of of the subculture, illuminating Hanna’s role as one of the most influential members of the movement, along with feminist hardcore punk bands like Bratmobile, Heavens to Betsy, and others. Weaving between personal accounts of Riot Grrrl culture and looking at both the flaws and politics of it, Marcus gives a historical account of feminist punk rock and zine culture.

2. There Goes Gravity: A Life In Rock and Roll


Longtime music columnist for The New York Post, The New York Times Syndicate, and Vanity Fair, Lisa Robinson has interviewed some of the biggest names in music history including everyone from the Rolling Stones to Jay-Z. In her memoir Lisa describes her life as one of the leading women in music journalism and gives a behind the scenes look at what it’s like to spend time with some of the world’s biggest and well known musicians.

3. Just Kids – Patti Smith


In Just Kids Patti Smith writes, “I imagined myself as Frida to Diego, both muse and maker. I dreamed of meeting an artist to love and support and work with side by side.”

Long before she ever became known as the “Grandmother of Punk” Smith was just a young kid wandering around New York with then unknown photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Both were hungry to become artists and Smith’s memoir chronicles their time (and romance) together in the late ’60s and ’70s.

4. Clothes Clothes Clothes. Music, Music, Music. Boys, Boys, Boys.: A Memoir


Both hilarious and moving Viv Albertine takes readers on a journey in her memoir from her early days growing up in London, to the wild days of playing guitar with female punk group The Slits. Between hanging with Sid Vicious and The Clash to performing to huge crowds and making a name for herself in a male dominated industry, she tells a compelling story about becoming a part of a movement that forever changed punk music.

5. Girl In A Band – Kim Gordon


Founding member, vocalist, and bassist of Sonic Youth Kim Gordon reveals what life was like in one of the most well known bands from the ’80s and ’90s in her new memoir. Gordon speaks candidly about her time with Sonic Youth, her 27 year marriage to band mate and lead guitarist Thurston Moore, and what life was like pre and post her Sonic Youth days. TC mark

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