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#discussion posts
moonlitsmores · 7 months
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Me when assignments:
Assignment: write a discussion post
Me: did you say, ”write an essay?”
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system-of-a-feather · 2 years
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Trauma Discussion Question: Gaslighting
[This is NOT a place for debate, there is NOT a correct answer and anyone trying to insist that there is one correct answer will be ignored or blocked. Try to keep this a discussion, because this is a nuanced topic.]
So a question that regularly occurs in our system as a not-necessary but thought and contemplation is "Does it still count as gaslighting if the individual in question has a medical memory issue of their own and their gaslighting-behavior stems from a genuine belief that they are correct"
In this question, we are assuing the person in question hits all the main gaslighting behaviors - making you sound crazy, poking "holes" in your own experiencing, calling to question your own mental health and conditions that might make you doubt your own experiences etc - but they are doing so because they genuinely think you are making it up / lying.
Additional follow up for those with memory issues / an unreliable memory of their own, how would you feel if someone had claimed your behavior - when defending your version of the memory - was "gaslighting"?
I mainly ask this to see how others approach the topic. Our family all has people with varying reasons for very poor memories and warped memories - primarily due to a long history of dissociation and dissociative amnesia on both ends as well as other brain/physiological issues.
This actually doesn't have too much personal weight to our trauma processing at this point since we have our own opinions that we are firm on - but that is how we have approached and processed it. I'm curious what others might think.
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Thank you Anon, for giving me crabs!!!!
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cat-alyzing · 1 year
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I have created the most interesting thing for PO3/OOTS but I’m still unsure about spoilers. Do you guys prefer to have all my cards or I show some but keep many to myself? Or no spoilers at all?
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rivetgoth · 2 months
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It's honestly crazy that discussion around testosterone HRT skews so much towards the beginning stages of it (to the point that you have dozens of guys thinking their transition is "failed" if they don't pass by like a year in lol) and what the initial changes of the first couple of months to years look like, like the classic laundry list of those early basic changes like bottom growth, voice drop, etc, when IMO literally none of that compares remotely to the depth and intensity of the long term total masculinization you start to experience like 3-5+ years in.
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hamletthedane · 2 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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randomness-weekly · 3 months
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discussion posts
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idestroyyoulikeiam · 3 months
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god i love college
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i ❤️ discussion posts
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samble-moved · 8 months
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post itself
false flags
trans/adjacent tags
accessibility features
tumblr live post (thanks for the link, @problemnyatic)
flashing / strobing / lights
unblockable flashing ad
buying ad free
staff @/macmanx guilt trip
list of staff + more issues
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crimeronan · 2 months
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bonus. tell me why
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gil-estel · 1 year
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theworldisaplace · 2 months
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with apologies to lewis carroll
The Walrus and her Fairy friend Were strolling down the block; They paused and then debated on Which one of them should knock: ‘You know, this might be easier If we just pick the lock!'
‘If I’m the one to do it And they find me standing here, Do you suppose,' the Walrus asked, That they would shriek in fear?' The Fairy said ‘I bet they would,’ And shed a bitter tear.
The Walrus and the Fairy then Walked on a little more, And came upon the house That they’d identified before. They flipped a coin to see which one Would now approach the door.
‘O Tumblrina, let me in!' The Walrus did beseech. ‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, For I have much to teach.’ (The sounds of this discussion Were within the Fairy’s reach.)
The Tumblr user looked at him, But never a word they said: Too wowed by this new circumstance To even shake their head. ‘Would you prefer,’ the Walrus sighed, A Fairy’s knock instead?’
‘The time has come,' the Fairy said, Accepting his new role, ‘We must admit this visit Is in service of a goal.’ And then the two together cried, ‘We’re here to take a poll!’
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bromantically · 7 months
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u seriously have to let go of the idea that "man" and "woman" are totally separate. u have to be comfortable w the idea that identities are way more complex than a binary. if u wanna break the binary u HAVE to accept that there are identities thatll blur and coexist in ways that are only truly contradictory if ur still adhering to the gender binary u claim to reject. sometimes women are gay men. sometimes men are lesbians. these are not impossible and theyre not contradictory, theyre just experiences that exist because man and woman are just 2 genders out of countless others, not opposites
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Ooooh what about 🥺 and 🤡 for the ask game?
Thank you for the ask, friend!!
🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels? As a lover of angst, I always get Big Feelings when Laudna doubts her worth and Imogen makes the (incorrect) assumption that it's better for them to have some distance. I love reading and writing Laudna running away, because I think it's such an extreme response that could only come from a specific set of circumstances that push her until she feels it's the best, and only, option for Imogen. I relate so much to Laudna when it comes to feeling like your presence is doing more harm than good, so reading about her doubting herself really tugs at my heartstrings and scratches at some old wounds.
🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh? As I'm sure everyone knows, I mainly write angst. But! I have a yet-to-be-finished imodna camping au that is my attempt at humor and smut. I can't remember if I've shown you this snippet, but here's a small scene that made me laugh while writing it!
Imogen hides her face in her hands, once more contemplating the best way to kill Ashton. They’re hardy, so I can’t just stab ‘em with my knife. She shakes the thoughts away, and tries her best to find an excuse that’ll stop Laudna from asking anymore questions Imogen doesn’t want to answer.  “I’m just so embarrassed,” she manages to pull out of her ass, satisfied with her lie.  Laudna tuts, her cool arm brushing against Imogen’s heated one. “It’s not your fault, Imogen. Ashton probably just gave you the wrong tent.”  Imogen clenches her teeth, knowing full well that this was no accident. Never shoulda told the fucker about my crush on her.
Thank you again for the ask, Vivid!
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madlovenovelist · 8 months
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What is your favourite type of book blog content?
Posts you read vs posts you like. SOUND OFF IN THE COMMENTS ON WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURTIE TYPE OF BOOK BLOG CONTENT I was considering tweaking my blog recently, because it has evolved from what I pictured it when I first started blogging over 10 years ago. So too is the kind of content I readily engage in, so it posed the question – what is my favourite type of book blog content? Discussion Posts:…
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