People who can work on one project one piece of art one piece of writing for days on end amaze me if I do not finish my thing before I go to bed there is a 90% chance I will be disgusted by even the thought of it the next day and that only increases the more time passes
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I like how in fanfiction you can take readers into another world.
Even for a moment of the day.
Even if it isn't perfect, it doesn't have to be.
You can just have fun in your little sandbox, and someone else somewhere will have fun with you as they watch your little sandcastle.
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Translation: What a shitshow. This years Eurovision has gone to hell. And it's first and foremost the EBU's fault.
Also, excerpt from the same article:
Throughout the course of the Eurovision Song Contest, the EBU has acted as if they live in a parallel universe. Eurovision is one thing, the world outside something else. The EBU has stuck its head in the sand. Shoved the problem under the rug. Held their hands over their ears and shouted LALALALALA. They appear to have done everything they can to pretend it's possible to hold an apolitical event in a world that's on fire. We have come together to be "united by music", they say, but the sharpshooters on Malmö's rooftops have nothing to do with us!
In its struggle to remain apolitical, the EBU has become like a small fascist state in itself, where the artists' space for expression and action has been reduced as much as the undergarments of the Spanish dancers.
It is reprehensible.
Reminder again to BOYCOTT EUROVISION 🇵🇸
Don't watch, don't vote.
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not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram
the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis
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Shipping is fun and all but I swear every single time someone makes a comment, whether as a joke or in a legitimate analysis, about there being "no other explanation" for a pair's interactions, I lose just a bit more of my sanity
Like, no, you guys don't get it. Romance is not about the Amount of devotion, it's about the COLOR. the FLAVOR of it all. a character can be just as devoted to their platonic friend as they are to their romantic partner, and they don't love either of them more, just differently.
But because the majority of people still have it stuck in their minds that romance exists on the highest tier of love, I'm stuck seeing endless takes that boil down to "these two care about each other too much for it to NOT be romantic" as if that's the core determining factor to how literally any of this works
In conclusion: stop telling me that I don't understand the story if I don't interpret the leads as romantic, I am TIRED
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if yall ever want like serious advice from me about how to solve burnout as a creative it's like...
literally ignore it. stop pushing. go do something else, enjoy your life, fill it with other things, do what brings you joy in the moment if you can.
go to the gym, take a walk to touch grass and look at dogs and smell flowers, cook dinner, watch tv with your friends, talk about your feelings as needed with ppl you trust, take a drive and blast your music, do the chores you need to do, the job hunting slog you need to do, read books that aren't for research, stop cordoning off your brain for The Craft or The Draft or whatever the fuck
forget about the project, stop thinking about it for as long as it takes to be excited again.
fuckin rest, basically
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In one misfortunate year I ended up getting into several car accidents. It cemented my general fear and anxiety in cars, because in each case I was either in the car but not driving or driving safely when suddenly something hit me.
One was my ex driving in an unfamiliar city and cutting someone off on accident that resulted in a sideswipe. Another was getting rear ended when I came to a required stop.
The last was when I had a green arrow at an intersection. I turned and was smashed into by someone running a red light, T-boning my little car.
Dazed and in shock I tottered out of the car to behold a crusty older man eating a donut step out of the offending vehicle. A fire truck arrived to block us off from traffic since my car could no longer move under its own power.
“Were you on your way home from work?” The firemen asked me.
I shook my head, struggling to focus on them, “No,” I said vaguely, “I was on my way home from volunteering at the animal shelter.”
In an instant they were closing ranks around me, glaring at the ambivalent donut man who would dare to hit a tiny frail angel who volunteered at the animal shelter. They asked if I needed to get anything out of my car. I did.
“It’s… uh. It’s a little weird though.”
They gestured for me to proceed. I grabbed a bag with snacks and books and filled it with things I couldn’t just leave in my car. Last out I pulled my cutlass.
“Is that a sword?!”
It was. They were instantly like giant puppy dogs, excited and delighted but trying to mind their manners. The bravest said, “Can we…?” I held out the sword. They whooped with delight, unsheathing and marveling at it.
“Why do you have that in your car?”
“I honestly don’t remember, it’s just a fun thing to have at a party now.”
“Is your wrist okay?”
My shock was wearing off and I realized I was cradling my wrist to my chest. “Oh.” I rummaged into my bag and pulled out a wrist brace.
“Wh….why do you already have that?” I was starting to confuse the firemen. I volunteered with cats, had a sword offhand, and kept a wrist brace in my car bag.
“Sometimes I try to hold books in a way that sprains my wrist? So I have this in my car just in case.”
They stared at me. Maybe, like my wife, they assumed it was for masturbation induced injuries. They handed my sword back as the tow truck arrived and thanked me for letting them play with it. They gave donut man one last glare and drove their big truck away.
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Senshi is probably the most fandomized character in Dungeon Meshi, and while I don't exactly mind it, I do think he has more depth than that. I find all his little quirks and idiosyncrasies to be fascinating; he's very stubborn and set in his ways about things that seemingly don't matter, he thinks about things that other people don't, he has a deeply set value system that informs everything he does. He cares A Lot, like, this man cares So Much. That's the kind of person you have to be to drop everything to help a random group of adventurers save one woman. But because he feels so strongly about things, he can also be surprisingly immature at times (although he's also the character most likely to admit he was wrong about something). I think part of that is because he's lived in the dungeon on his own so long that he's not used to working with other people. He will extend empathy and friendship to almost anyone, but he does things his own way, and he doesn’t always feel the need to explain his way of thinking because again, he's usually on his own. He's both incredibly wise and kind of childish in ways that seem contradictory at first, but make more and more sense the more we learn about him. Major kudos to Ryoko Kui's writing and pacing to make that transition so seamless and have all those details from his backstory click into place perfectly. And on a wider thematic level, Senshi is kind of a perfect counterpart to characters like Thistle (or any other dungeon lord). Senshi understands the dungeon in ways that even its creator doesn't. Although everyone is scrambling to take control of the dungeon, Senshi is the one who actually takes care of it. He's the one who thinks about things like nutrition and proper sleep and the ecosystem, all those things that it's easy to ignore when you get swept up by the grandeur of it all. He's the most important character to have present in a story that explores life and death and hunger. His constant, invisible presence holds everything together.
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