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#and the physical exhaustion...
art-of-mathematics · 2 years
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Showering the "biological spaceship" (body) is a high energy task of system maintenance.
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wu-does-art · 2 months
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coming out as a "Will snores obnoxiously loud" and "Nico breaths so quietly you can barely tell hes alive" truther
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0yorixu · 1 month
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etho sketch, don't have time to color cuz then I'll spend hours on it and I won't have time to do my school work that I've been procrastinating on
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How the fuck am I supposed to explain chronic fatigue to someone??? Like I need at least one nap a day to even kind of function in addition to going to sleep earlier than most people might. I am constantly exhausted, I wake up exhausted and I end the day absolutely drained and then I’m expected to do it all again the next day. How the fuck do I explain that sometimes even doing nothing is exhausting? How do I explain that I can’t do things sometimes because I’m so far past tired that I’m essentially not functioning? How do I explain to someone who says they get exhausted but can still function when they’re at that point that my exhausted is completely and utterly different?
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temeyes · 2 months
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not feeling too well today, so just some quick busts for now
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i understand the whole "stop applying modern labels to the hypothetical gender & sexual identities of historical figures" argument but you gotta admit. just as a thought experiment it might be PRETTY DAMN FUN to imagine "okay say this renowned 19th century novelist was trans as fuck. how would we have to reinterpret their vast vast written body of work?"
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steamclouds · 7 months
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The menace of the South Downs, of course Crowley gets his own bike too :)
Aziraphales' scooter
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plusthreerabbits · 11 days
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Just wanted to let y'all know that Chewie is always happy to see you!
[Video description: Chewie, a golden brown rabbit, doing a binky on a wooden deck. /end]
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letraspal · 10 months
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“Baz’s eyes are usually the kind of grey that happen when you mix dark blue and dark green together. Deep-water grey.”
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“There’s nothing remarkable about Snow’s eyes. They’re a standard size and shape. A little pouchy. And his eyelashes are stubby and dark brown. His eyes aren’t even a remarkable colour. Just blue.”
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starwolf53 · 5 months
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sa-dnesss · 2 years
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My home will be a home with no loud anger, no explosive rage, no slamming doors or breaking glass, no holes punched into the walls, no name calling, shaming or blackmail. My home will be gentle, it will be warm. No fear, no hurt and no worries. I may come from a broken and twisted place but I will build something whole and safe.
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the-cookie-of-doom · 6 months
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"I don't want to talk about this." Kim doesn't have anyone he can talk to about this.
Porsche takes three shot glasses out from behinds the bar and lines them up. Fills each. "Drink," he orders.
Kim side-eyes the glasses. Looks around the bar; near-empty at this hour.
He drinks, one after the other. It burns going down.
"I'm still not talking about it," he says.
"I know." Porsche pulls a single shot for himself. Kim admires his restraint. Then again, only one of them can afford to get laid out, and Porsche has decided it's going to be Kim.
Kim taps one of the glasses, and Porsche obliges him with two more pours. By the time he sets the second face down on the bar top, he feels it. Warmth in his face and cotton in his head. He can convince himself he's barely tipsy, so long as he doesn't move his head, because then the earth tips out from under him. Tipsy.
"Ready to talk about it?"
"Ask me."
"Are you trying to sleep with my baby brother?"
Kim hums. Shakes his head. Regrets it. "Nope, not ready."
Porsche whistles, impressed, and pours another shot.
"You're going to be so fucked up tomorrow."
The six shots Kim sucked down slam him twenty minutes later. He should have expected it; Porsche probably did, and that's why he's laughing at Kim now, snapping pictures of him slumped over the bar and moaning in misery, offering no comfort. It was Porsche's idea to get him loose-lipped with truth serum in the form of alcohol, but Kim let him do it, so it was his fault, really.
Once Porsche has gotten enough blackmail material to last a lifetime, he closes up the bar, then drags Kim over to a booth so they can talk.
"So. Porchay."
"Porchay," Kim agrees, a lyrical slur into his arms.
"You wanna tell me what's going on there?"
"I like him s'much. He's so, so-mmm, good, he's good, and nice, and..." Kim trails off, mumbling something incoherent. "Kissed him."
"What?"
"I kissed him. On his face. I missed. He smells s'good. I wanna kiss 'im again."
Porsche laughs. "Are you trying to sleep with him?"
"Mmmno. Maybe?" Kim tries to push himself upright, and only manages to slump enough enough that he can side-eye Porsche as he says, "Dunno how."
"What?"
"Are you gonna be mad?"
"Probably not. What do you mean, you don't know how?" Kim makes a miserable sound. His eyes are fever-bright, and his cheeks are flushed, and Porsche is pretty sure it's not just from the alcohol. Kim buries his face back in his arms to hide. "Kim, are you-?"
"No." He waves a hand at Porsche. "Kinda."
"Kinda."
"You know."
Porsche does know, but he a mean part of him wants to make Kim say it, because he's an asshole, and bullying little brothers is what he does. He's definitely not going to bully Chay about this, his poor brother would die. So he can harass his own boyfriend's younger brother instead. He relents, though, because Kim looks all kinds of pitiful and sad when he next surfaces from the sanctuary of his arms. Scratch that, he looks distressed.
"I think I want to, I do, I want it - but I haven't - and Chay - I don't want to - what if I'm not-"
"Take a deep breath, kiddo." Kim does. "What, you're afraid of disappointing him?" A small nod, and Kim looks so young, and nervous, that it pulls at Porsche's heart. "Aww. You couldn't."
"Yuh-huh," Kim mumbles.
"Nah. Trust me. That kid is so gone on you." This makes Kim smile. Bright and beautiful and bigger than Porsche has ever seen. In person, at least.
"I love him so much."
"Yeah?" Porsche knows for a fact that Kim has not told Chay as much. He already knows how smitten Kim is, and has for a while - it's why they're having this conversation at all, because Kim is over his head in love, and doesn't know what to do about it, and God forbid he talk about it sober - but the confirmation is nice to hear.
"I gotta - gotta tell him." Kim squirms around until he successfully gets his phone out of his pocket, pushing at the buttons on his lock screen in an unsuccessful attempt to open it. Porsche careful reaches across and take it from him.
"Hey, no, absolutely not. The first time Chay hears that from you is not going to be in the middle of your drunken ranting. He deserves better than that."
Doesn't mean he won't want to know about it later, though, which is why Porsche has had his phone on and recording this entire exchange. He'll save it for their wedding.
"I'll write him a song," Kim declares. "I'll write so many songs, a whole album. all about him, I'll-I'll-" He seemingly loses his train of thought, patting around the table like he's looking for something. Probably a pen. Porsche helpfully hands him one, and Kim latches onto it, scribbling lyrics into a napkin. Porsche can't wait to see what he comes up with later.
"Why haven't you talked to him?" Porsche gently prompts, interrupting his creative flow. He's pretty sure whatever lyrics Kim is coming up with right now are nonsensical anyway.
"Afraid."
"Oh what? Of him rejecting you? Because that's impossible."
Kim shakes his head, looks like he's about to throw up, manages not to. "The other thing."
"What other thing?"
"Him wanting me." Except Chay does want Kim, and Kim has to know it. He's not blind. Porsche tells him as much, and Kim shakes his head, says, "He thinks so, because he doesn't have me. But if he does, and he doesn't want me anymore, because I don't, I don't..."
Porsche thinks Kim might say, I don't know how to be loved, and it breaks his heart. He slides around the booth so he can pull Kim into his side, and tries not to react when Kim bursts into tears. He didn't know Kim knew how to cry.
"Chay's so good, he's everything, and I'm not, I'm not, I don't-"
"Hey, hey, stop that. Calm down, it's okay, you're okay. Come on, what's all this?" Porsche ruffles his hair and laughs. "You're Wik! You're Khimhan Theerapanyakul.
Kim wheezes, "Not good," and Porsche crushes him in a one-armed hug that Kim doesn't even try to fight.
"Good enough for my little brother. Kay? Trust me, I'm the expert, and I'm giving you my blessing. So pull yourself together."
"Nnng?"
"Yeah, idiot, I'm giving you my permission to defile Chay."
"I wanna hold his hand and kiss his cheek and take him on a date. A real date. Imma get him flowers. What kind of flowers does he like?"
"He's allergic."
"Oh."
"But you can still do the other stuff."
"Oh." Another brilliant smile. "Yay."
"But before that..." Porsche waits for Kim to put it together, but he doesn't, blinking up at Porsche with his big brown eyes and waiting for direction. Porsche finishes the thought. "You have to talk to him first."
"Oh. Not yay."
"Hey, at least you already know what the answer's gonna be." Porsche cuffs his shoulder. "Do it for Chay, so you can have all that filthy hand-holding and cheek kisses and dates."
-
The next day greets Kim with the worst hangover he's had in his life, his body violently rejecting every ounce of alcohol he forced into it. When he can stop throwing up long enough to string together a coherent thought, he texts Porsche to inform him he's the worst person alive, his ideas are horrible, Kim is never trusting him again, and he's going to kill him the next time he sees him, just for good measure. His body hurts in ways he didn't know were possible, and it's Porsche's fault, and vengeance will be had. Just as soon as he can walk again.
Drink plenty of fluids! Porsche cheerfully replies. And don't forget to talk to Chay. Or else I'm sending him the video of you last night.
Well.
Fuck.
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If you were to compare the ground and whole bean versions, does grinding the beans yourself have a significant impact on the flavour, or does all that other stuff about the coffee (that I cannot remember but I'm sure that you, unpaid coffee intern, do) minimize the difference?
Does it have a significant impact on flavor? I think grinding your own coffee tastes slightly better, but I am super bougie. Like, I might be the world's bougiest unpaid intern/acting CEO.
That said, our ground coffee tastes (vastly) better than any ground coffee you can get in a grocery store, because our coffee is much fresher. It's not unusual for supermarket (or Starbucks etc) coffee to spend six months on a shelf after being ground, and that really hurts the flavor. Our coffee is much, much fresher--it's usually ground less than a week before it gets to you--so you don't get nearly as much flavor loss.
One of the surprises of Awesome Coffee is that it is, in fact, so very good. Like, it is markedly more enjoyable to drink every morning, and literally no one is paying me to say that. I think this fact is reflected in our extraordinarily low attrition rates--most subscription services lose 10-20 percent of customers per month. We lose less than 2%. It's just incredibly good coffee, doing important work in the world.
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canisalbus · 2 months
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just found ur blog and im kind of obsessed. especially with machete,, i relate to him so much. i know youve said he has anemia, does he have chronic pain? because i would love to project my own onto him. he is so!!!!
Thank you! I'm glad you like him!
I think a lot of the time he's in varying levels of vaguely uncomfortable. He gets headaches and migraines, often from some extremely fixable bad habits like not resting or eating enough, and from stress and work related neck and shoulder tension. His eyes are very sensitive to bright lights and he doesn't see that well, so he ends up squinting more than he should, which leads to chronic eyestrain and more headaches.
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kotikaleo · 5 months
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Aautistic meltdowns
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Autistic meltdowns are an involuntary response to sensory or emotional overload and overwhelm. This highly dysregulated state is not behavioral, but a physical manifestation of a neurobiological reaction. They can happen at any age and take from 20 minutes to few hours before the person is able to recover. It is not a temper tantrum, as it is not a manipulation tactic in response to not getting needs met, meltdowns are a physical manifestation of a neurobiological reaction and cries of distress.
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actualaster · 2 years
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Something that fully healthy people don't really seem to understand about chronic health issues is what running on an energy deficit is like long-term.  It's more exhausting than you can possibly imagine if you haven't experienced it.
How does that work? Well, it's sort of like this. Everybody has a certain amount of energy.  When you're healthy and well-rested, you feel pretty good.  There are artificial boosters that give you more energy, too.  You can do all sorts of stuff.
When you get tired, you can still do some stuff but you can't do as much and what you can do might suffer from lack of energy. Except that's essentially your every day existence with chronic health issues.  You go to sleep tired, and wake up tired--sometimes more tired!
Your energy levels rarely reach "full"--that is, there's few points where you are in a "well rested" state where you feel pretty good and have "normal" levels of energy.  You're *always* operating in "low battery" mode rather than being fully charged, and you drain *fast*.
This makes doing basic tasks much harder than need be--things that drain a little energy you notice a hell of a lot more when you're already dead tired than when you're well-rested.  Like how when your phone drops from 10% to 9% you notice more than from 100% to 99%.
You can do some stuff--but you have an upper limit of what you can do that's a lot lower than other people. And functioning while running against a deficit at all times means a *lot* of careful, conservative planning to husband your strength for when you need it most.
It means sometimes spending 30 minutes deliberating what you should buy when you reach the store because you're trying to guess "will I have the energy to prepare this food after shopping?  Will I later this week?"  You hedge your bets when you can.
It means skipping out on a lot of stuff you'd otherwise love to do because you just can't be sure you'll have the energy to do it without landing yourself in bed for the next 3 days by pushing yourself to collapse. It's depressing. And it's exhausting.
EDIT: This post is for people with physical AND mental health causes for their fatigue and exhaustion, by the way! I know there are posts that really are meant only for one or the other and it's rude to hijack them, but if you find this resonates with you then you're welcome to it regardless of the cause!
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