Dear Spirit,
I am so busy, all the time. I work full time, I am married, I have kids and a house to take care of. How am I ever supposed to find time for the things that I want to do? There just aren’t enough hours in the day.
- Anonymous
Dear Reader,
Sometimes it can seem like our list of things to do just grows and grows and there’s never an end in sight. Well unfortunately, the truth is, there isn’t.
There is always going to be something to do. Some obligation to your family, or your friends, or your job. If it’s not that, then we, as adults, are always filling our plates with the next chore to be done or the next house project to be worked on. The fact is, your right, there are only so many hours a day and if you choose to fill them with obligations, then there will always be more tasks than time.
What few people realize, is that “me time” is a choice. When your week is so full that leisure time doesn’t naturally come about, then you must make the time. Carve out a small piece of your week. Whether it’s a full day or just an hour or two. Dedicate that time to yourself and guard it with your life. It’s so important that we take time for ourselves, so protect that little space you give yourself and don’t let anyone take it from you.
If your boss calls and asks you to come in, say you’re sorry but you can’t, if your parents need you to run errands with them, say I’m sorry it will have to wait until the next day. You don’t have to tell them why, just say that it’s important. Don’t give up your me time unless it’s absolutely necessary, because once you let it go, and you allow yourself to be comprising about it, it will be hard to get back. Be strict with yourself and everyone else. You’ll be glad you did.
the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
ngl, it's about quality over quantity for me. an npc can have a total of three minutes of screen time, but if they have a cool name, they can live rent free in my head and I'll spend several hours trying to decipher drawable features from a blurry screenshot of pixels
there is a vague hint of a story here, and that's because every time I try to play thi4f, I get incredibly frustrated with how Not Fun the game play is. like, is the story good? well. but it has a PLAGUE. that should've given it instant 'I'll replay this once a year' status in my heart, but the game play sucks so bad that I've never finished it. I can't believe Not Fun gameplay beat out my obsession with narrative plagues.
anyway, the idea is basically if the original era had a game with a plague centric narrative and some other stuff I liked out of thi4f thrown into a narrative blender, with a heavy dash of horror thrown in because some parts of the thief games were scarier to me than entire dedicated horror genre games.
It's been another year, time to bring the October lists out. As is more or less tradition by now, I'll be doing the Goretober challenge again. Like last year I've decided to make my own, shorter list to give myself and anyone else who'd like to follow it more days for each prompt. Feel free to share and use however you like!
I'll be tagging all my Goretober related stuff with "goretober". Block that tag if you don't want any of that on your dash. I'll try to tag everything properly with more specific tags as well. Stay safe! <3
ID in alt text, and here's a text-version of the list below the cut:
Goretober 2023
A shorter Goretober list for myself and anyone else who want to participate, but want fewer prompts and more time for each prompt. Feel free to shorten the list even more by only doing the prompts on the left or on the right! (or every other day, if following the text-version)
There are 8 Prompts in total, and below each prompt there are three extra words. The extra words are there as inspiration, but are Not necessary to include if you don’t want to.
from what i can tell, the reality is that steven, ryan, and shane make content (primarily) for themselves. they make content they want to make. they're trying to make content they're really proud of and excited for. any creator/artist can tell you that being excited for your own work and being the #1 cheerleader of your work is the main driving force that 1) gets work done and 2) makes the art good. for a creative, passion is hugely important. and it is a very good thing that the boys are compelled to want to up the quality and production of their shows, because that means there's a passion there that they're trying to nurse.
now, if the content they want to make requires more money, they're allowed to ask for more money. even though success in their line of work requires views and a certain level of fan support, they're allowed to act for themselves and their own creations. they're allowed to advocate for the art they want to make, art that maybe the fans aren't asking for. yes, it does shatter the misconception that they're doing all this exclusively for the fans. but it shouldn't be viewed as a breach of trust for them to simply ask that of their fans. and imo it shouldn't even be that surprising since that's the main reason they left buzzfeed in the first place—feeling creatively stifled, and feeling like they could make things they're really passionate about, if only they could make the space for themselves.
i think with all that in mind, i would say a lot of the common arguments against the move are essentially rendered void and misplaced. in the end, if someone really hated the move and felt betrayed, they could've just packed up shop and stopped watching; a lot of people did not do that, and i think their inability to cut ties with something they didn't like and was generally harmless was a fault of their own. BUT the only argument that might still stand is this: the bottom line is that if watcher won't listen to what the fans want, watcher won't last.
you're right! they won't. that's probably why they backtracked on the move.
but then i ask you what you truly want as a fan. the main "want" i've heard from people is for watcher to cut down on production/quality, and just focus on the real magic, that is the humor and chemistry between our watcher boys.
but what if watcher knows this and they still decide that they want something else? again, what if watcher wants to focus on creating something larger than two guys cracking jokes on a crappy handheld camera? if they only ever followed the fans' desires over their own, and all their videos from now on was just them shooting the shit on camera, maybe that would be just fine for you! maybe you'd love that content! but would you really be supporting watcher in the end, or would you just be supporting the versions of themselves they molded for you? could you really be a fan of theirs if you denied them the mere attempt at becoming the creatives they truly wanted to be? is getting exactly what you want all the time worth making life shittier and more stifling for the people giving it to you? is that what you wanted when you first followed watcher from buzzfeed?
I feel like Golbetty is gonna end up in Fionna’s world and try to destroy it to protect Simon since the Scarab won’t stop hunting him until the rogue universe is terminated.
And the last few episodes is Simon trying to get through to Betty about accepting their fates and remembering they will always love each other even if they can’t be together in the end. Sort of like pleading to her to not put him first.
Was anyone going to tell me that Engels really hated the Irish or was I supposed to find that out for myself???
These are some really impressive anti-immigrant talking points:
The southern facile character of the Irishman, his crudity, which places him but little above the savage, his contempt for all humane enjoyments, in which his very crudeness makes him incapable of sharing, his filth and poverty, all favour drunkenness.
With such a competitor the English working-man has to struggle, with a competitor upon the lowest plane possible in a civilised country, who for this very reason requires less wages than any other. Nothing else is therefore possible than that, as Carlyle says, the wages of English working-man should be forced down further and further in every branch in which the Irish compete with him. And these branches are many. All such as demand little or no skill are open to the Irish. For work which requires long training or regular, pertinacious application, the dissolute, unsteady, drunken Irishman is on too low a plane. To become a mechanic, a mill-hand, he would have to adopt the English civilisation, the English customs, become, in the main, an Englishman. But for all simple, less exact work, wherever it is a question more of strength than skill, the Irishman is as good as the Englishman. Such occupations are therefore especially overcrowded with Irishmen: hand-weavers, bricklayers, porters, jobbers, and such workers, count hordes of Irishmen among their number, and the pressure of this race has done much to depress wages and lower the working-class. And even if the Irish, who have forced their way into other occupations, should become more civilised, enough of the old habits would cling to them to have a strong, degrading influence upon their English companions in toil, especially in view of the general effect of being surrounded by the Irish. For when, in almost every great city, a fifth or a quarter of the workers are Irish, or children of Irish parents, who have grown up among Irish filth, no one can wonder if the life, habits, intelligence, moral status -- in short, the whole character of the working-class assimilates a great part of the Irish characteristics. On the contrary, it is easy to understand how the degrading position of the English workers, engendered by our modern history, and its immediate consequences, has been still more degraded by the presence of Irish competition.
—Condition of the Working Class in England, 1845
Dirty, stupid immigrants stealing jobs? Revolutionary take