A Lot Of You Hate Historians And Archaeologists, And I Think That’s A Problem

working in customer service

Rosanna Warren, from Departure: Poems; "From the Notebooks of Anne Verveine"

i made an eepy t kiss comp!

Happiness Will Come To You.

lee soo hyuk, kim rok soo, choi jung soo. The old team.

hello, ive been inactive here on tumblr for a LONGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG month but hey im currently on jjk hell <3 (also im confidently proud to say that im slowly improving on art ) :DD

wow, it’s been a wild two years with seventeen and with their amazing comeback, i’m doing my biggest giveaway as of yet! i know our boys went all out with “don’t wanna cry” and their entire album too so i figured i’ll do the same. for this gigantic giveaway, i’ll be handing out five different prizes to five lucky followers and each person has the chance to win one of ther own choosing! i won’t open the albums so whoever you get will be a surprise :D

included in the giveaway

1 x “alone” album + one seventeen poster

1 x “al1” album + one seventeen poster

1 x “all” album + one seventeen poster

1 x seventeen official light stick

1 x “2016 like shining diamond” concert dvd

rules:

   you must be following me and be a seventeen fan (or if you’re aiming to snag this for a friend, that’s cool too!)

      don’t follow and then unfollow just because of this giveaway

      do not enter with a giveaway blog. side blogs are fine for entering in the giveaway (just specify that you’re following with your main in the tags or something)

      i will ship internationally so anyone can enter!

      likes don’t count

      reblog as many times as you want (tag the post with “the al1 giveaway” so i can keep track and make sure you guys have read the rules!)

      the winners will be selected at random

      if selected as the winner, you’ll have 48 hours to respond to my message so make sure to have your ask box open or tumblr messenger activated. also, first come first serve for choice of prize!

      if a response hasn’t been received within that time span, i will select another winner

      if you’re under the age of 16, you must ask a parent or guardian for permission before i mail out the item

the giveaway ends thursday june 22nd (8:00 p.m. pst)! i will select the winners right after that time period ends and the items will be sent out as soon as possible. if you have any questions or need clarifications on the rules, feel free to ask!

p.s. if you guys love watching kpop reactions and commentary, please subscribe to form of therapy on youtube! i’m a reactor for the channel and it’d mean the entire world if you’d follow us ;__;.

don’t know if you’re still doing these n i resisted the urge to pick all the kissing ones so Mamihlapinatapei for declansey bc come on. Come on. It sells itself

The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

Declan is only at Nino’s in the first place because he’s standing up a girl he’s supposed to be taking to the movies. It’s always a crapshoot whether Matthew will remember where Declan said he’d be at any given moment, but he doesn’t want to risk it, to show up at their room and have Matthew ask, bright-eyed, what happened to his date. And then he’ll have to lie, because one time he didn’t lie and Matthew just stared at him for a full minute of processing time and then said, “That’s mean,” and even though there was nothing after that, Declan ended up calling and apologizing (and lying, obviously–he said his little brother was sick and heavily implied that said brother was between the ages of four and seven). Then they ended up making a second date, and he didn’t stand her up again because he isn’t a monster, but he desperately wanted to and it showed.

So this is what he’s been reduced to: lurking in the back booth of a second-rate pizza shop googling the runtime of Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter (really, deeply, unbelievably not his choice) to more convincingly fake a date when all he wants to do is lie down and nurse the bruises hidden under his button-up. Just as he’s thinking that his day cannot possibly get any more demoralizing, Gansey walks in, and in the split second Declan spends pretending to be too dignified to hide under the table, Gansey sees him. And Declan sees Gansey seeing him, and so by the rules they both live by, they’re obligated to acknowledge each other.

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I grew up in the 1960s on the West Side of Chicago. My mother died when I was six months old. She was only 16 and I never learned what it was that she died from - my grandmother, who drank more than most, couldn’t tell me later on.

It was my grandmother that took care of me. And she wasn’t a bad person - in fact she had a side to her that was so wonderful. She read to me, baked me stuff and cooked the best sweet potatoes. She just had this drinking problem. She would bring drinking partners home from the bar and after she got intoxicated and passed out these men would do things to me. It started when I was four or five years old and it became a regular occurrence. I’m certain my grandmother didn’t know anything about it. 

She worked as a domestic in the suburbs. It took her two hours to get to work and two hours to get home. So I was a latch-key kid - I wore a key around my neck and I would take myself to kindergarten and let myself back in at the end of the day. And the molesters knew about that, and they took advantage of it.

I would watch women with big glamorous hair and sparkly dresses standing on the street outside our house. I had no idea what they were up to; I just thought they were shiny. As a little girl, all I ever wanted was to be shiny. 

One day I asked my grandmother what the women were doing and she said, “Those women take their panties off and men give them money.” And I remember saying to myself, “I’ll probably do that” because men had already been taking my panties off. 

To look back now, I dealt with it all amazingly well. Alone in that house, I had imaginary friends to keep me company that I would sing and dance around with - an imaginary Elvis Presley, an imaginary Diana Ross and the Supremes. I think that helped me deal with things.

Even though I was a smart kid, I disconnected from school. Going into the 1970s, I became the kind of girl who didn’t know how to say “no” - if the little boys in the community told me that they liked me or treated me nice, they could basically have their way with me. By the time I was 14, I’d had two children with boys in the community, two baby girls. My grandmother started to say that I needed to bring in some money to pay for these kids, because there was no food in the house, we had nothing. 

So, one evening - it was actually Good Friday - I went along to the corner of Division Street and Clark Street and stood in front of the Mark Twain hotel. I was wearing a two-piece dress costing $3.99, cheap plastic shoes, and some orange lipstick which I thought might make me look older. 

I was 14 years old and I cried through everything. But I did it. I didn’t like it, but the five men who dated me that night showed me what to do. They knew I was young and it was almost as if they were excited by it. 

I made $400 but I didn’t get a cab home that night. I went home by train and I gave most of that money to my grandmother, who didn’t ask me where it came from. 

The following weekend I returned to Division and Clark, and it seemed like my grandmother was happy when I brought the money home. 

But the third time I went down there, a couple of guys pistol-whipped me and put me in the trunk of their car. They had approached me before because I was, as they called it, “unrepresented” on the street. All I knew was the light in the trunk of the car and then the faces of these two guys with their pistol. First they took me to a cornfield out in the middle of nowhere and raped me. Then they took me to a hotel room and locked me in the closet. That’s the kind of thing pimps will do to break a girl’s spirits. They kept me in there for a long time. I was begging them to let me out because I was hungry, but they would only allow me out of the closet if I agreed to work for them.

They pimped me for a while, six months or so. I wasn’t able to go home. I tried to get away but they caught me, and when they caught me they hurt me so bad. Later on, I was trafficked by other men. The physical abuse was horrible, but the real abuse was the mental abuse - the things they would say that would just stick and which you could never get from under. 

Pimps are very good at torture, they’re very good at manipulation. Some of them will do things like wake you in the middle of the night with a gun to your head. Others will pretend that they value you, and you feel like, “I’m Cinderella, and here comes my Prince Charming”. They seem so sweet and so charming and they tell you: “You just have to do this one thing for me and then you’ll get to the good part.” And you think, “My life has already been so hard, what’s a little bit more?” But you never ever do get to the good part. 

When people describe prostitution as being something that is glamorous, elegant, like in the story of Pretty Woman, well that doesn’t come close to it. A prostitute might sleep with five strangers a day. Across a year, that’s more than 1,800 men she’s having sexual intercourse or oral sex with. These are not relationships, no one’s bringing me any flowers here, trust me on that. They’re using my body like a toilet. 

And the johns - the clients - are violent. I’ve been shot five times, stabbed 13 times. I don’t know why those men attacked me, all I know is that society made it comfortable for them to do so. They brought their anger or whatever it was and they decided to wreak havoc on a prostitute, knowing I couldn’t go to the police and if I did I wouldn’t be taken seriously. I actually count myself very lucky. I knew some beautiful girls who were murdered out there on the streets.

I prostituted for 14 or 15 years before I did any drugs. But after a while, after you’ve turned as many tricks as you can, after you’ve been strangled, after someone’s put a knife to your throat or someone’s put a pillow over your head, you need something to put a bit of courage in your system. 

I was a prostitute for 25 years, and in all that time I never once saw a way out. But on 1 April 1997, when I was nearly 40 years old, a customer threw me out of his car. My dress got caught in the door and he dragged me six blocks along the ground, tearing all the skin off my face and the side of my body. 

I went to the County Hospital in Chicago and they immediately took me to the emergency room. Because of the condition I was in, they called in a police officer, who looked me over and said: “Oh I know her. She’s just a hooker. She probably beat some guy and took his money and got what she deserved.” And I could hear the nurse laughing along with him. They pushed me out into the waiting room as if I wasn’t worth anything, as if I didn’t deserve the services of the emergency room after all.

And it was at that moment, while I was waiting for the next shift to start and for someone to attend to my injuries, that I began to think about everything that had happened in my life. Up until that point I had always had some idea of what to do, where to go, how to pick myself up again. Suddenly it was like I had run out of bright ideas.

A doctor came and took care of me and she asked me to go and see social services in the hospital. What I knew about social services was they were anything but social. But they gave me a bus pass to go to a place called Genesis House, which was run by an awesome Englishwoman named Edwina Gateley, who became a great hero and mentor for me. She helped me turn my life around. It was a safe house, and I had everything that I needed there. I didn’t have to worry about paying for clothes, food, getting a job. They told me to take my time and stay as long as I needed - and I stayed almost two years. My face healed, my soul healed. I got Brenda back. 

Usually, when a woman gets out of prostitution, she doesn’t want to talk about it. What man will accept her as a wife? What person will hire her in their employment? And to begin with, after I left Genesis House, that was me too. I just wanted to get a job, pay my taxes and be like everybody else. But I started to do some volunteering with sex workers and to help a university researcher with her fieldwork. After a while I realised that nobody was helping these young ladies. Nobody was going back and saying, “That’s who I was, that’s where I was. This is who I am now. You can change too, you can heal too.” So in 2008, together with Stephanie Daniels-Wilson, we founded the Dreamcatcher Foundation. 

A dreamcatcher is a Native American object that you hang near a child’s cot. It is supposed to chase away children’s nightmares. That’s what we want to do - we want to chase away those bad dreams, those bad things that happen to young girls and women. The recent documentary film Dreamcatcher, directed by Kim Longinotto, showed the work that we do. We meet up with women who are still working on the street and we tell them, “There is a way out, we’re ready to help you when you’re ready to be helped.” We try to get through that brainwashing that says, “You’re born to do this, there’s nothing else for you.“ 

I also run after-school clubs with young girls who are exactly like I was in the 1970s. I can tell as soon as I meet a girl if she is in danger, but there is no fixed pattern. You might have one girl who’s quiet and introverted and doesn’t make eye contact. Then there might be another who’s loud and obnoxious and always getting in trouble. They’re both suffering abuse at home but they’re dealing with it in different ways - the only thing they have in common is that they are not going to talk about it. But in time they understand that I have been through what they’re going through, and then they talk to me about it.

People say different things about prostitution. Some people think that it would actually help sex workers more if it were decriminalized. I think it’s true to say that every woman has her own story. It may be OK for this girl, who is paying her way through law school, but not for this girl, who was molested as a child, who never knew she had another choice, who was just trying to get money to eat. 

But let me say this too. However the situation starts off for a girl, that’s not how the situation will end up. It might look OK now, the girl in law school might say she only has high-end clients that come to her through an agency, that she doesn’t work on the streets but arranges to meet people in hotel rooms, but the first time that someone hurts her, that’s when she really sees her situation for what it is. You always get that crazy guy slipping through and he has three or four guys behind him, and they force their way into your room and gang rape you, and take your phone and all your money. And suddenly you have no means to make a living and you’re beaten up too. That is the reality of prostitution.

Three years ago, I became the first woman in the state of Illinois to have her convictions for prostitution wiped from her record. It was after a new law was brought in, following lobbying from the Chicago Alliance Against Sexual Exploitation, a group that seeks to shift the criminal burden away from the victims of sexual trafficking. Women who have been tortured, manipulated and brainwashed should be treated as survivors, not criminals.

So I am here to tell you - there is life after so much damage, there is life after so much trauma. There is life after people have told you that you are nothing, that you are worthless and that you will never amount to anything. There is life - and I’m not just talking about a little bit of life. There is a lot of life.