I just really don’t like the Armorer which also stems for my deep dislike of the whole keeping the helmet on thing nonsense.
Tarre Vizsla would like to have a word.
I appreciate every moment Filoni conspired to get that helmet off of Sabine.
The way we didn’t even get a scene with Pedro Pascal after he got that helmet on is ANNOYING.
Don’t even talk to me about the whole eating apart so no one would see you remove your helmet thing. In a battlefield that’s just stupid.
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Heard today from the neighbor:
Girl child (who is teenager-ish years old): [unintelligible yelling]
Father: "STOP YELLING AT ME I'M TIRED OF IT."
Girl child: [more yelling; stomping; door slamming]
Me, in my office, just trying to fucking work: "What the fuck did you think would happen, dude?"
Like, I get it. Teenagers are a fucking trial, and the recent uptick in screaming and yelling (timed also with the new school year, notably), gives me a good idea that we're in the growing pains of some kid's life.
But, like, dude, screaming back at your kid ain't gonna do shit to 1) calm the situation, or 2) make her feel heard, or 3) make her feel like she can come to you without screaming next time.
Full disclosure: I don't really like this dude anyway. When the family first moved in, there was a LOT of yelling by HIM at his wife and sometimes at his kids. Like, shit wasn't good. But that seems to have gotten handled in the last year or so. I've heard him make requests and actually sound happy, and the whole family seems happier, so excellent!
But he's also one of those "I am the alpha" dog owners, and I fucking hate it. They've got a super sweet black lab that is very energetic and excitable, and I overheard him on a walk giving the command in a firm voice (good), then repeating it because she wasn't listening (also good), but then he added, "I am in charge."
And, okay, fine, I nearly fell over laughing because what a fucking chode. But also, it's not your dog's fault she doesn't understand "I am in charge" means something to YOU. She's a fucking dog. Try some positive reinforcement, for fuck's sake.
No parent is ever got keep their cool 100% of the time, and I can only hear stuff from over the fence when it's loud, so maybe he cooled down and apologized for being a dick and they had a good conversation.
But also, dude tells his dog "I am in charge" like that means something. So.
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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he says i hate everyone except you and that is addictive and that is kind of romantic and beautiful because you're young and you're kind of a sarcastic asshole too and you don't like bad boys, per say, but you don't really like good ones either. and you like that you were the exception, it felt like winning.
except life is not a romance book, and he was kind of being honest. he doesn't learn to be nice to your friends. he only tolerates your family. you have to beg him to come with you to birthday parties, he complains the whole time. you want to go on a date but - people are often there, wherever you're going. he's just so angry. about everything, is the thing. in the romance book, doesn't he eventually soften? can't you teach him, through your own sense of whimsy and comfort?
at first - you know introverts often need smaller friend groups, and honestly, you're fine staying at home too. you like the small, tidy life you occupy. you're not going to punish him for his personality type.
except: he really does hate everyone but you. which means he doesn't get along with his therapist. which means he has no one to talk to except for you. which means you take care of him constantly, since he otherwise has no one. which means you sometimes have to apologize for him. which means he keeps you home from seeing your friends because he hates them. you're the single exception.
about a decade from this experience, you'll type into google: how to know if a relationship is codependent.
he wraps an arm around you. i hate everyone except you. these days, you're learning what he's actually confessing is i have very little practice being kind.
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