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arsonforcharlie · 1 month

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me my whole life up to one calendar month ago: ppl who celebrate monthiversaries or call themselves pet parent and shit are annoying pass it on

my Arbuckle-core ass today: fuck this post and happy first month living in my apartment toronto pigeon my sweet infant baby, WITH ARRRMS WIDE OOOPEN-

#toronto pigeon #cats #look at her dignified little new collar!#feel free to reblog #selfie #i guess anyway #i just fucking LOVE MY BABY CAT

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joyousmistake · 5 months

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Watching Oz realise he’d made his goal to save his home and that he actually had a decent chunk of people in his corner after that whole hideous ordeal was both healing and heartbreaking and I want only the best for him

#oz media #deserves the world #my own similar experience didn’t go as far but it’s soooo nice seeing him get all the support #I’ve donated as much as I can afford #I wish I could do more #internet drama #i guess anyway #it’s a bit more serious than drama but just in case people want to filter

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desirepathzine · 5 months

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Jeff Buckley Saved My Life in Orlando, Florida by Randi Eversole

In March of 2016, I was on a charter bus, headed towards Orlando, Florida. I was a senior in high school. The trip was with my Southern Baptist evangelical church choir. I did not want to be there.

The choir tour was a non-negotiable part of every year, a way for all of the concerned parents of young church goers to ship their kids off during spring break so they would spend it in service of the Lord and not mingling with all the other degenerates who were out of class. Ostensibly it was a week full of "volunteering" to some degree, singing at shelters and nursing homes, paying money to sing contemporary christian worship music in historic cathedrals. touring around whatever major city from the safety of the bus, so on. The trip was to a different scary big city every year. Prior to Orlando I had found myself in Chicago, the year before Chicago we'd done an actual tour, saving souls in Jacksonville/Florida, Savannah/Georgia, and Charleston/SC.

By the time we were halfway through Chicago, I had started to articulate issues I had with this mission, and indeed the Southern Baptist denomination of Christianity as a whole. By the time a senior trip to Orlrando, FL was announced, I saw it for what it was: an excuse to take a bunch of kids to Disney World under the banner of Christianity.

For the 12 hour bus ride to Orlando, I had prepped a few albums to listen to, as I usually did when headed somewhere new. I had discovered many favorite artists tucked away at the front of the bus (they usually made all the students sit in the back, but I was prone to motion sickness, so I always ended up at the front with all of the chaperones, who largely left me alone).

That year, my album picks had included Grace, Jeff Buckley's only album. I had of course been familiar, you couldn't sift through a single Tumblr playlist without coming into contact with Hallelujah. I vaguely knew somewhere that he had passed, that he was all of my favorite vocalist's favorite vocalist, that sort of thing.

For whatever reason, somewhere in Georgia, I decided now was the time to listen to Grace for the first time. And my download of the album had somehow not copied Mojo Pin, the album's first track, to my iPod so I indeed did start the record listening to the title track. I quickly fixed this mistake on returning home. Ancient problems from a different time, truly.

I did not listen to another record for the rest of the week.

Here was a friend, a person striving for authenticity, an artist coming into his power. All of the things I desperately craved both to be and to be around. It was a balm and a shield against all of the empty expressions of the music I was going to sing that week, the manipulative key changes and nonsensical lyrics. Here was something real and special.

So many lyrics were reaching through time to hold my hand, the beautiful melodies and vocal acrobatics elevating me, taking me away from the bus window view of the interstate, to somewhere I felt safe and seen.

I was alone in many ways that week, alienated from the religion I was raised in, alienated from my peers who maybe at one point had been my friends but had steadily pulled apart from me in the latter months of high school when it became clear we were not going to be compatible adults, bunking in a drafty Hyatt Place with roommates I really didn't know at all, who argued ceaselessly when we were supposed to be sleeping. I had been relegated to a pullout couch in an attempt to get some space.

As any anxious and isolated neurodivergent teen girl would in the circumstances, I went on a deep dive that first dark night in Orlando, far away from home and surrounded by strangers, into Jeff, his life, his work. I listened to interviews to keep the noise at bay. In my search, I found a picture of Jeff, holding a phone, on a portable bed, presumably talking to a journalist, doing press. I tracked down the location. It was a hotel somewhere in Orlando, Florida.

(photos by Merri Cyr)

It was like waving at someone in another dimension.

Two days into the tour I looked down at the t-shirts we all had to wear, a mish mash of Bible references and key words in the shape of a cross, printed on ugly mint green and coral orange t-shirts (the orange stained my bra for weeks, it was horrible). The choir was given a 'theme' every year for the tours, one inspirational word that was supposed to drive the spiritual growth of 9-12 graders. The year in Chicago had been the "restore" tour (which is extremely problematic the longer you dwell on it). "What's the tour name this year?" I blearily asked one of the chaperones. "Oh, it's the Grace tour. Make sure you use the hashtag."

The tour was the first time I encountered an actively hostile audience during any of the shows. Looking back that seems strange, but nonetheless. We often performed for unsheltered folks, who were forced to listen to us boisterously praise the Lord as they tried to get something to eat or were otherwise seeking support. The show in question took place in a parking lot where an extremely questionable Christian charity group set up once a week to attempt to convert anyone who needed a hot meal. Somewhere in the hour long set of worship music, teenagers banging on trash cans under the guise of performing STOMP (yes, like the off-Broadway thing, which no one even knew because it was such a dated concept by 2016), a capella chamber music (I did that too), and emotionally manipulative skits, one of the people in the crowd started to yell. I don't remember the exact verbatim statements, but it was along the lines of "Why are you singing when we need food, need shelter?"

That night, at the mandated debrief/devotional portion of the night before they finally let us all go to bed, many of my peers expressed that they had never thought of the work that way, as something that could be potentially a nuisance, bothersome, something people were forced to suffer through in order to have their basic needs met.

That was a question I had been asking myself for over a year at that point, ever since pretending to "restore" Chicago in 2015. Did anyone really find inspiration in a bunch of white middle class teenagers singing their little hearts out over Coldplay instrumentals? Did the sloppy manual labor we tried to do at various places for people in need really benefit anyone? Did tired building custodians go back in the day after and correct the naive mistakes of suburban teenagers who were not given any option other than to figure out ways to be helpful? Much ink has been spilled over the epidemic of teenage-centered volountourism from churches, sending unqualified children to do labor to get closer to God, etc. I was tired of treating people less fortunate than this community like pawns to achieve karma points. I was tired of singing bad music. I was tired of feeling like a ghost.

When we got back on the bus, or returned to the hotel, or had mildly unsupervised free time at venues, I would check back in with Jeff. I listened to So Real over and over again, its simplicity was spellbinding. One night they carted us to Disney Springs, the shopping district on Disney property, to burn off steam before getting ready for another day of presumably hard work. I was too tired to traipse around, half-heartedly tagging along with folks that seemed indifferent to my presence. I sat down with a shaved ice and watched a pair of living statues performing in the humid evening, bronze and vaguely Victorian looking, glimmering under the ambient theme park lights. I watched them work a crowd while I listened to So Real and briefly became lost in a story that to this day I cannot recall correctly, some short-lived idea about statues yearning to be real. I started crying, not helped by the schedule that left us overworked and under-rested, and a lack of access to protein and actual nutrients beyond pizza.

Every night, I thought of Jeff on a hotel bed, years ago, in the same place as me. Was he alone? Did his worldview, the questions he screamed out towards the end of Eternal Life, his propensity for diving into the biggest emotions, isolate him like they isolated me?

It's easy to fall in love with someone who has passed, it makes it easy to assign them traits you admire or romanticize their short life. I don't think I fell in love with Jeff in that way, although it is undeniable that he was beautiful. I didn't need lips to kiss, I needed a shoulder to cry on, and it felt like there was a beautiful friend helping me chart a course out of self-loathing and getting mired in philosophical mud.

The last night of the tour, before the Friday fun day when all pretense of work is thrown out to go to a theme park or explore safely curated areas of the city, it was expected that somebody, a youth pastor or the choir director or a well meaning chaperone, would give a sort of pious pep talk, asking us if we really believed all the things we were singing, or were we just having fun on a spring break trip? Anyone who is familiar with Cry Nights at evangelical summer camp knows this tactic. Overstimulate and exhaust young people with still developing brains, feed them a steady diet of sweets and carbohydrates, and then the claws of emotional manipulation will sink so much deeper. And then make them go sing a concert with exhausted voices and clogged sinuses from crying, where their emotions and convictions will run so high, that surely no one in the audience will go unmoved.

That last pep talk reared its ugly head before the last concert, as I presumed it would. But I didn't really listen, while the tears flowed around me. In my head, I was sitting across from Jeff Buckley at the pullout bed, quietly centering myself, trying to find peace in the midst of the chaos. We smiled at each other and said nothing in this vision.

I returned home, glad to be done with youth choir forever, vowing ot never go back to the church I had been raised in. (and also I finally listened to Mojo Pin since it didn't make it onto my iPod)

I was trying my best to give myself grace under strange and infuriating circumstances. Jeff taught me how. Being curious and sensitive is a strength, rage can fuel beauty, seeking authenticity is a worthy journey. That this situation was temporary and I would not have to live my life beholden to the whims of a religious institution that actively benefitted from my fears. Grace, real grace, given freely without the expectation of a transaction, is beautiful. I returned home, a week before my eighteenth birthday, and began the long process of figuring out what I actually believed, what I actually valued, and pursuing the things that filled me with joy at full speed, a road that I am still traveling.

#jeff buckley #exvangelical #i guess anyway #essay #zine #music zine #personal essay

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mybelovedstarlings · 8 months

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The silent suffering and peace that comes with realizing you're moving on :)

#personal #i guess anyway #it just popped into my head

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jwbstuhr · 2 years

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got reminded that i used to draw these. here's one that i would call my best yet

#doctor who #tardis #art #i guess anyway #how do i tag posts again #katherine's art tag 8008

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lesser-robot-cat · 1 year

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Guy at the grocery store thought he'd have a little laugh at my tired, gothy self and jokingly asked if I had any horror stories. I thought for a moment, then remembered that I had spent the morning scrubbing blood off the living room floor. I shared this bit of information with him.

Then it was my turn to laugh.

#goth stuff #i guess anyway #don't ask questions you don't want answers to

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marmolita · 1 year

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between listening to a lot of TMA and a chipmunk problem in our yard I had a dream last night in which (warnings for creepy crawlies, animal attack, needles):

I went out to the backyard for some reason. There was a tent there, not the kind with a bottom but like those event tents you see at weddings. I went inside because I was looking for something. Inside, the ground was lumpy and soft, and full of holes. The holes were about the size of the holes that chipmunks and voles and field mice dig in our yard, but there were white centipedes in the entrances, skittering out to catch other bugs that came too close. There were a LOT of other bugs.

Disturbed, I backed out of the tent, only to see a small creature on the other side of my yard. It was dark and I was having trouble seeing, but I thought it was a kitten, next to another unidentifiable but similarly sized creature. I was a little relieved about the kitten, because I thought it might kill the centipedes, but I didn't know what the other thing was. Both of them disappeared under the deck, which in dream-land was much larger than our actual tiny deck.

I bent down to look under the deck. In the dark, I could see that there were more creatures down there, but I couldn't tell what they were. There were a lot of them though and they all appeared to be kitten-sized mammals. I finally got my phone out and turned on the flashlight, and saw that they were baby raccoons 😱 and that the mama raccoon had spotted me as a threat and was running toward me at alarming speed.

The big mama raccoon bit my hand before I could get away and I shrieked. It's a bit fuzzy there because I halfway woke up and was thinking about the best way to get a raccoon to let go of your hand after biting it briefly before I fell asleep again.

At that point, I was no longer in the yard, but I had a bite on my hand and I knew I needed to go to the ER to get a rabies vaccine. Somehow I couldn't find anyone to take me there and was trying to ask my coworkers over MS Teams but was getting the runaround from a guy who used to work there irl but in the dream was still working there.

Somehow I made it to the ER. I was trying to tell the medical person (not sure if it was a doctor or nurse) about the bite and that I needed a rabies vaccine, but the bite kept moving to different spots on my hand, and then I realized there was a matching pattern of bites on my other hand, so that if I held them together they formed a kind of starburst design. The medical person kept trying to reassure me it was okay but they weren't actually getting me the vaccine and I was freaking out about it. Then a woman who was supposed to maybe be an ex-coworker but was an entirely fictional person my subconscious made up was there, and she was like, "I'll give you the vaccine," in the creepiest most deranged voice possible. She grabbed a random syringe off the table and came at me to try to stab me with it, and that's when I finally woke up.

#lita talks about herself #dream log #i guess anyway

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bethecrayon · 2 years

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When court is taking so fucking long for no reason and it is physically painful at this point

#personal #livi does work #i guess anyway #maybe I'll come up with a better tag

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carouselcometh · 5 months

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Devastating! Art museum gift shop doesn’t sell prints of specific and unpopular painting that struck a cord with you!

#Anyways :) I had a good day guess what popular painting I love that I saw and guess what I saw a new painting I really liked today :)

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liquidstar · 6 months

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If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.

#i think about this story sometimes like yeah I'm proud of them for that too actually. good job baby brothers #they're not babies anymore of course they're turning 20 next year which is crazy #but they're still the type of people who'd do something if they saw something of this sort happen for sure #respectful of women and everyone else too. they're good guys #I'm glad I ended up with them living in my house against my will for like 14 years #anyway i have no idea where i was for all this but my best guess is probably a friends house given the time period #i was always at my besties house lol #i hope she's doing well too actually. haven't spoken in forever...#bestie from greek elementary school... if you're out there... let's get muffins and fanta at the bakery across the street again someday 💜☮️

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crystaleevee4 · 28 days

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i am going to start a collection

if you have any other posts of this kind please send them to me

update: this one thanks to @iputmcytsintohydraulicpress (great url, by the way)

this one courtesy of @catamaurrr-star

So I didn’t want to separate it into two images, this was the best I could do- thanks to @blocky-tides! also art is by @/cheeryfairies

thanks @o0recipme0o

hey @igotthisaccountunderduress. less mcyt related but thanks anyways :D

heheh

I GIVE UP GUYS HOW DO I IMAGE ID SOMEONE HELP ME

...so anyways here's my self-promotion now that this has almost 15,000 notes and you guys sure as hell won't see it if i reblog

My AO3! Not much there right now besides OC stuff, but more to come!

Situations ask game! pleasepleaseplease send me hc/life series stuff here i need enrichment (some of these are shorter, but i can promise you i will deliver!)

@traffic-smp-headcannons! me and mod tides like seeing your ideas :)

(of note: i also take art requests, but only traditional)