A draft of a version of “Diagnosis”, a song I wrote after wondering if mental illness was still illness if you’re happy. One version or another of this will probably be on my upcoming EP for this year, “Sissyfist”.
it’s a shame that people won’t respect my personal space until i get violent.
- i punched a white boy in the stomach for touching my hair
- i cursed out this other kid and told him i’d break his face if he touched me again. he’s always “tickling” me like that shit is cute.
if that’s what they…
A co-worker of mine got surrounded and verbally harassed by a group of boys in Allston (a Boston borough) who shouted homophobic and misogynistic slurs at her, and she turned around and socked the ring-leader in the face.
When she told me this story, she expressed anxiety over giving into violence. I told her that nonviolence was a great idea but there was a big, big, big difference between systematic and state violence, and a rational response to oppressive and endangering behavior. A scared animal bites. Not doing so might sublimate the fear inward and turn into an anxiety attack or general self loathing later.
mynameisapoem, you’re a petite, teenaged girl of color. A lot of people will feel entitled to your body because this world is creepy in so many ways. This may be an unpopular opinion, and it’s not like I go looking for fist fights, but if people are touching your hair/face/body without your permission, and they don’t take no for an answer, you are well within your right to hand it back to them.
n. the exhilarating dread of finally pursuing a lifelong dream, which requires you to put your true abilities out there to be tested on the open savannah, no longer protected inside the terrarium of hopes and delusions that you created in kindergarten and kept sealed as long as you could, only to break in case of emergency.
Sealed away? Girl, I have been living off of that mind candy for 23 years now.
The world best get ready.
n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—a flirtatious glance, a sympathetic chuckle, a nod of mutual respect, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence—moments that are fleeting and random and unexceptional but still contain powerful emotional nutrients that can alleviate the symptoms of feeling alone.
Dear 16 year old self:
Yes, do learn to speak articulately in front of a crowd or to a group. Some people will perceive you as arrogant just for using words longer than two syllables, and others will think you’re loud for volunteering at all, but this is a life skill that will ultimately benefit you.
And keep at that creative writing stuff.
Dear 18 year old self:
No, what you are about to do right there, with your whole personal life, that’s actually a very, very bad idea.
Dear 22 year old self:
You probably should have learned how to do technical drawing. Though I’m picturing you in the class now, spacing out and hating it. Maybe take a class online or beg a friend to show you the ropes. It’s useful! For the randomest things. Including working in a creative capacity in the media and entertainment industry, but I guess you really like bagging groceries…
Also, stop reading tumblr at your internship. Follow that friendly grant writer around and study what she shows you closely.
People went around wearing black, and one woman wrote a letter to Doyle addressed, “You murderer!”
There is nothing new in fandom.
And in the original, Watson finally finds love and gets married, and then his wife dies. So. We have more sobbing to look forward to almost certainly.
2012. Year of the Dragon begins January 23rd.
Illustration by Ulisse Aldrovandi, from his opus magnus Historia serpentum et draconum (1640)
I have collected too much weird Sherlock fan art now, so I made a blog for it: http://lolsherlock.tumblr.com/
I have made absolutely none of the content, but try to reblog rather than OP when possible.
This is also so I can resist the urge to spam up this place with the TV I watch and get back to our regularly scheduled Art I Like and Self Centered Rants.
(Source: cherrybomb42)
For years I’ve been assuming that when my final semester of college finally rolled around I’d suddenly feel that dread all my friends and classmates talk about, but I don’t. Or maybe I just don’t yet. But I do feel something new, something extremely powerful. For the first time ever in my life, I’m going to be unattached to an institution!
At least for a little while. I don’t know what kind of a job I’m going to get (or at all) yet… But I was sitting in E-Projects and my class mate Becca was sitting at one of the computers corresponding with an art museum in the UAE and we agreed that something about finishing school and having never done anything fancy like a semester abroad, time off, or a travel course produced an intense impulse to try and work abroad.
“All my friends are everywhere else anyway,” she said.
“You can, like, be. Somewhere else. DURING SEPTEMBER. FOR ALL OF SEPTEMBER. OH MY GOD YOU DON’T HAVE TO LIVE ON A SEMESTER BASIS,” I said, mind blown.
“OMG I KNOW!”
Woah. WOAH.
Scout style merit badges for grown ass folks seem to be a thing lately, and I think they are pretty cute, though I have just spent all my money on textbooks and an Arduino Uno for E-Projects and also what the hell would I sew these onto. Still, behold:
NaNoWriMo badges for “NaNo Socializing, Word-Count Padding, Procrastination, Caffeine Abuse, Secret Noveling, Creative Nonfiction, Rally Day, the Eureka Moment, Random Ending, and Victory”.
And of course,
not everyone i want to love/comfort/help needs or wants me. there are beginnings that just will not be anything more than just that. there are friendships that i’d rather be a part of but they may not happen. not everyone i want in my life wants to be there. they know best what they need and do not need.
Arduino controlled, user adaptive, ghost theater light and radio drama.
The presence of theater with the absence of performers. Laptops are a liability and ruin the atmosphere. Cues controlled by the audience and pre-programmed interactive machines. Isolation rooms. Dark, textured and patterned setting. Speaking candles. Time travel. Choose your own mystery adventure. Cyberpagans.
“Our story is the story of the universe. Every piece of everyone, of everything you love and everything you hate, of the thing you hold most precious, was assembled by the forces of nature in the first few minutes of the life of the universe, transformed in the hearts of the stars or created in their fiery deaths.
And when you die, those pieces will be returned to the universe in the endless cycle of death and rebirth. What a wonderful thing it is to be part of that universe. And what a story, what a majestic story.”
Professor Brian Cox, Wonders of the Universe.
For thousands of years of human history, alchemists have tried in vain to find a way to turn non precious substances into silver and gold. Turns out it is actually possible, but only the death of a star can produce the heat necessary to transform the elements. The existence of gold on earth originates in the explosion of some ancient star which burst like a cosmic pinata, tossing unseen and unique goodies off into space where they swirled about and made our planet. Maybe this is stupid, but I love that the bizzare impulse and reasoning behind alchemy is actually correct: under the right circumstances, anything can be transformed into gold. I suppose I like that as much for the metaphor as for the chemistry, but it still tickles me.
