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#i get like this EVERY TIME
bookwyrminspiration · 2 months
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god I would be UNSTOPPABLE if I was capable of consistently initiating tasks. just you wait. you'll be waiting a while but just you wait
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contagiousgrace · 8 months
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“Do you want to go into deep sea or space?” NEITHER the Lord made me of and for the dirt. 
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ardri-na-bpiteog · 30 days
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Also increasingly aware that a LOT of people "manage" getting through the 40+ hour work week by sleeping less than is healthy and relying on stimulants like coffee and energy drinks to keep them going.
For people who are unwilling or unable to do this...work really does just dominate your life. Like we really should not have to rely on unhealthy practices just to have a social life or keep on top of housework or whatever.
I know I post about this a lot but I'm so TIRED all the time and it's just so depressing that this is how we're expected to spend the one life we have.
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kimquatz · 20 days
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process of drawing an OC: - you design them - you get attached to them - their hair gets bigger without you realizing it
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stargirl230 · 2 months
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thanks for the light
I was just trying to figure out how procreate works but then the op brainworms got to me and 35 hours later here we are! can you tell I miss home-cooked meals :')
(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)
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batbabydamian · 2 months
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*you opening the love letter* what does your damijon look like, pls pls pls pls pls pls pls, i know it would be so cute, i just know it 🙏🙏🙏
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here you go! thank you for the ask, this was a lot of fun to do! they're working on a case together ^^
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closet-keys · 10 months
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sometimes I wish that every article naming how much a public service would cost (or how much it would cost to repair needed infrastructure for the service or to make the service more accessible to disabled people and poor people) would explain that number in terms of how much time it takes a billionaire to earn that much.
like "it would cost $8.6 million (or, a little under one hour of Bezos's earnings) to build a new public library building in this area which would serve 45 thousand people."
money is literally a social and political representation of how we are choosing to allocate resources. I wish these direct comparisons were made so people who haven't yet made the connection might at least start asking "huh... why should we allocate these resources to one person to do nothing with them instead of to 45 thousand people in the form of an essential service? why do we allocate this amount of resources to this one person every single hour of every single day but it's unthinkable to provide it to tens of thousands of people just once? why are tens of thousands of people (of which I am one), all of us collectively, less valuable than this one guy?"
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inkskinned · 6 months
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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.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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can't stop thinking about tamsyn muir's choice to present her deep, morally and politically complex science fantasy world with a central web of magic, secrets and lies reaching back ten thousand years through the eyes of three characters who:
1. tune out and start thinking about hot women whenever the magic system or worldbuilding are being explained
2. experience hallucinations on a daily basis, have brain damage and are being deceived and misled by their peers, authority figures, themselves and God
3. don't know who they are, have spent their entire life in one place and are, on all levels but physical, six months old
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andthebeanstalk · 10 months
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
#hlep#original#mental health#my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it#i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support#and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of#huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the#longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel#i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop
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eyes-of-nine · 2 months
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pls assume i'm thinking about this moment 24/7 all week every week
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meowfountain · 7 months
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hyperfixations are so crazy because you never know whether this next thing you like is going to be a short-term interest or if it's going to change your entire life forever
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toxooz · 2 months
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also been thinking abt pooki with his cunty scarf💅
if my next drawing post isnt the comic update take me out back and shoot me like a sick dog
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patrickztump · 3 months
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got an ipad so i had to draw my son in his many positions of rest
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luvit · 4 months
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olderboyfriend!simon who gets jealous whenever he hears you drunk talking about some guy who tried to hit on you and get your number :((((
yea (said like the kid getting a basketball thrown at their head)
because older-boyfriend!simon who picked you up from the club when you sent a slurry of texts riddled with typos. saying 'smoin pls lvoe u so muchth" and "wamt 2 go hooooooome"
he's already got his shoes on and keys in hand when your name first lit up his phone. he'd let you go out on your own and have fun with your friends. he said he'd pass when you offered for him to come because he wants you to be able to go out and have fun with people your age too and not have him looming over you. because he knows that's what he's going to end up doing so he ends up telling you that he'll pick you up whenever you want if you wanted to leave earlier than your ride.
and by the time he gets there after your multiple voice memos (that he listens to along the way and laughs at how many times you tell him you love him even though he's a grandpa and then that you were just kidding), he has no problem finding you since you're sitting on the curb and swinging your knees this way and that like a bored child. immediately pulls over and moves towards you.
"what you doing out here, lovie?" he'll ask you gently and try to pull you up. your arms are totally slack and to prevent from accidentally dislocating your arms, he slings an arm around your shoulders and lifts. but you misinterpret it as being carried like he's walking you out of a burning house in a hallmark movie and launch your body upwards so he has to start carrying you like that if he doesn't want to drop you.
"you're here to save meeee!" you drawl out and kiss his cheek. except you miss and knock your forehead against his jaw instead. he chuckles and bumps his head against yours while carrying you to the car.
"save you from wha'? s'cold out. don't need you freezing out here especially when you're hot from all the alcohol."
"that's what this guy said too!"
"said what?" he asks quietly as he buckles you in. you're full of life all of a sudden and talking with your hands and he gently holds them to give your fingers a kiss so you don't accidentally slap him.
"this guy in there. he said i was soooo hot. and then he wanted to dance with me, but i didn't want to. because i have a boyfriend and i love him so much. but i would love him eveeeen more if he let me pluck those white hairs on his head because he's getting sooo old. but i'm getting there too, so maybe it's okay. we can be old together-"
he cuts you off with a finger on your lips. he watches you with an adoring expression. obviously with your young age and habit of partying, it seems you still don't have that well of a reign on how much is too much.
"go back to the guy, darling."
"my boyfriend? oh yeah! he's like so big and strong and-"
"the guy at the bar, sweetheart." he chuckles and then closes the door so he can get to his seat. he can see you still animatedly talking through the window. he knows he's not exactly missing anything important with how you started off with saying everything else you thought was related.
when he slides into his seat he hears your "and then this guy came out of nowhere and tried talking to me and he smelled so bad. so bad, simon! disgusting. he had the audacity to ask for my number!"
"you give it to him?" he arches an eyebrow at you as he starts driving off to your home.
"i gave him the number to my favorite pizza place." he snorts at that and gives your cheek a fond squeeze. it makes you burst out into song. "i have it memorized!"
"'course you do," he mutters to himself while he stops at a red light. he gazes at you as you continue blabbering on and on about your night and how that apparently foul smelling guy approached you. he just can't take his eyes off you and watches how your eyes shine and your lips move.
his fists clench at wheel when he thinks about some rando approaching you and then trying to take you home. he knows you wouldn't stray far from him. not when you can't stop telling simon how handsome he is but your boyfriend is handsomer, as if he isn't the same exact person. but the thought of someone trying to get you, claim what's his? oh it has his blood boiling. can't help that you're such a pretty thing.
maybe he'll have to go with you the next time.
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caruliaa · 1 year
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staff still hasn't given me polls, what should i do?
🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their moms 69%
🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪🟪 their dads 31%
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grace image os i get to look at her
#edit: edited the og post to what i want but to set the record straight i edited to the post to be mathematically correct right after the#first person pointed it out which was like ten mins after i posted the og post. now fuck offf !!!!! the rest of the tags r from the og post#for some reason i feel very immature making your mom jokes about tumblr staff. which i shldnt !!#bc they suck nd they still havent given me polls. but i ig i feel imature bc it a your mom joke 😭 but still i tihnk its kinda funny#EDIT: edited the post to what i want bc yall were getting annoying . but to set the record straight i edited to post to be mathematically#also its *mum* not mom okay i am NOT !! an american . but if i say mum everyone will j be like 'omg british' like i dont know i am#anyway. i want polls please. give me the rigght to force my mutuals chose between the most inane things#also i tihnk it wld b cool for the cs weekly blog. like w each episode#i cld do a poll of like. out of five stars what do u think of this ep#and it wld b a cool thing of which eps r ppls faves#also i cld have like. whose ur fave in team red whos ur fave in acme etc#id prob just have to go with vile faculty bc theres more than 10 ppl in vile. and ppl wld kill me if i didnt include nel the ell or whoever#it wld b fun !!!#oh btw csweekly thats i thing i want to start. prob on uhhh the 11th of feb ill post abt it more but its basically#a tag/blog for watching cs one ep a time watching one ep every saturday#ya !! :3#flappy rambles#inaccessible#ask to tag#(<- idk. just in case)
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