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To be white, or straight, or male, or middle class is to be simultaneously ubiquitious and invisible. You’re everywhere you look, you’re the standard against which everyone else is measured. You’re like water, like air. People will tell you they went to see a “woman doctor” or they will say they went to see “the doctor.” People will tell you they have a “gay colleague” or they’ll tell you about a colleague. A white person will be happy to tell you about a “Black friend,” but when that same person simply mentions a “friend,” everyone will assume the person is white. Any college course that doesn’t have the word “woman” or “gay” or “minority” in its title is a course about men, heterosexuals, and white people. But we call those courses “literature,” “history” or “political science.”

This invisibility is political.

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"The world is made for people who aren’t cursed with self-awareness."

"Dear Congress: You’re going home for Christmas? Really? You’ve done nothing, NOTHING, to avert the pending economic crisis. You bitch and you stick to your guns and you make wild, untrue, unhelpful statements that are driving our nation (and thereby the other parts of the world that depend on our economy) to the brink of disaster. But it’s Friday! And Christmas! My family and thousands of others like me have foregone Christmases, birthdays, births, anniversaries, deaths and all sorts of hardship spread across various hemispheres—because you demand it. Because we want to serve our nation, to keep it more safe, to protect us from disaster. Thank you, you arrogant, self-centered assholes, for appreciating our sacrifices so much that you would leave your post to go spend time with your families (who have significantly more benefits from your job than our troops’ families), that you would, as a whole, make our nation and world less safe by refusing to come up with a plan. Quit your politicking and get to work. Your actions, your inaction, your refusal to bring anything worthwhile to the table, pisses me off. Merry Freaking Christmas. May your eggnog curdle."

"The worst part about anxiety attacks, is that you’re aware it’s irrational and sometimes unexplainable, but knowing that gives no aid what so ever. In most cases it deepens the anxiety as you realise “if I know it’s irrational, why can’t I stop it… Oh god I can’t stop it,” you begin to believe you are no longer in control of your mind. That. That is fear."