juniswan

[juniswan]

Saturn Devouring His Son if it were a Draw The Squad meme from 2014

[juniswan]

Palestinian artist Asmaa Aljueithni shares a photo of the only thing that survived the airstrike that left her Gaza home in ruins: one of her paintings.

#Palestine #asmaa aljueithni

[juniswan]

having thoughts about a media that my friends aren’t into and thus would need the context of to understand my- AAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAH NOT THE HAWK WOUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#Me thinking abt vampire media

[juniswan]

my friend was testing perfumes out at the store and she sniffed a bottle and anounced "ngl this bitch kind of sucks" The girl at the counter suddenly looked really sad, and my friend was like "I'm sorry, I wasn't talking about you." And the girl looked up and said "No don't worry, I didn't think that, but I just crushed a ladybug with my shoe" We both took a peak over the counter. she'd stepped on a red m&m

[juniswan]

[juniswan]

Okay. Reblog this and tag with a numerical response for how many of these artists you listen to. It’s stereotypical “tumblr user” music.

Lemon Demon

Tally Hall

Death Grips

Jack Stauber

Mr Bungle

King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard

Devo

Oingo Boingo

Aquabats

Weird Al

My Chemical Romance

100gecs

Talking Heads

They Might Be Giants

Mitski

Girl In Red

#14 augh

[juniswan]

the stuff going on at columbia campus rn is genuinely incredible

#Palestine

[juniswan]

just remembered music is real

This post is for fans of MUSIC only

#Machine girl you’ve done it again

[juniswan]

SUPER FREQ EP by Machine Girl

Cover Art By x

Cover Graphics By x

Curated By x

#Machine girl

[juniswan]

#Music #machine girl

[juniswan]

#Music #machine girl

[juniswan]

#NEW MACHINE GIRL!!!!!!!! #music #machine girl

[juniswan]

[juniswan]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

#Will I never not feel like a monumental incompetent.

[juniswan]

Here's every U.S. factory making bombs for Israel

#Palestine

[juniswan]

[juniswan]

Yeah quiet quitting is great and all but have you tried chaotic working?

Like. I remember back in my grocery store cashier days I did so much crazy shit.

When WIC (Women, infants, and children voucher program to help low income mothers/families with children) people were in my line I would pretty much know who they were. Before the cards they had to tell us upfront they were WIC and show us their vouchers for what they were allowed to get (it was awful some times. Like. 2 gallons of milk. $4 worth of vegetables etc etc). They’d always have items hanging back, waiting to see what the total was and if they would have to take it off the belt.

I began to place the fruits/vegetables a certain way on the register scale so that like 1/2lbs of grapes read as like .28lbs or something. Then act shocked when I said that they still had X amount of lbs left. They got all their fruit and vegetables.

I think it started to kinda? Catch on to the women? Because I would have the same moms in my line month after month. And even after they switched to the cards (they worked like food stamp cards?) I’d still do the same thing. They were able to get more produce for whatever shitty max amount Indiana gave them.

Anyways. Be chaotic. It’s more fun that way.