so I finally watched episode 7-

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.

its kinda funny that the chaotix are like the only characters who mention having to pay rent or buy food or whatever and theyll take any job that pays because theyre desperate for money but none of the other characters are struggling in this department at all even though most of them dont seem to have jobs. its like the concept of needing money to live exists for no one in the sonic universe EXCEPT for vector espio and charmy

love that nobody can function without echo in the empire era. the batch keeps losing the ship, barely manage to finish their missions, and entirely forgo strategy. and then on the other hand, rex pre-echo-joining-the-rebellion was living in an abandoned garage with one singular tiny ship. then shortly after echo joins they have a whole base with like twenty troopers and real doors and actual food and a ship actually designed for long distance travel.

To me, the biggest difference between comic Wallace and Anime Wallace is that Comic Wallace is like a normal guy who (imo) is very obviously still just a 25 year old making stupid decisions and working in shitty jobs and barely getting by, and he just looks more competent when standing next to massive boy-failure Scott (and because hes sassy and carefree). and Anime Wallace is beloved by the universe, so he just gets an acting job for being Wallace, with 5 stunt doubles (that he bargained for with a lawyer Comic Wallace probably could never afford. Seriously, where did he get that money??? Did he seduce a lawyer???????) and a millionaire husband, and lives in a millionaire mansion where he drinks all day and never has to work again. And like good for him, I guess? Slay.

he's in my mind a lot lately

My precious blorbo Elden

Typical good boy paladin who is this close to being done with his party's lawless bullshit

Sanlu consuming my brain like a goddamn fungus. Please send help. I’ve already written down so many ideas for fics I’m going to blow up

Blurred bc spoilers and also some of these are really REALLY self indulgent (embarrassing) and may never see the light of day

ignore me ranting in the tags i am aware i am being absolutely insufferable

Buy me a coffee

THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE TWO HOURS ASKING FOR THINGS IS LITERALLY MY WORST FEAR BUT FUCK IT WE BALL

my mum could really use £30-40 for groceries. We've spent a lot of money fixing stuff this month like replacement pipes and central heating (that really should be our landlord's responsibility..). She only has £150 left but we've still got bills to pay later this month so not much to spend on food and other necessities. Universal credit + her wage doesn't get paid until the end of the month (something is coming next week too but idr) 🥲

Usually we ask family and close friends for borrowing money but no one has been able to lend any aaa

No pressure to donate whatsoever — but if you have some extra money, any support would be greatly appreciated mwah <3

so if you have the anxieties at work -- which, uh, big mood -- and have the specific breed of anxieties of 'fuck I am fucking up at my job so much, I am about to be fired for sucking so much', you might find it useful to note down -- not on a work device for the love of god -- how often everyone else at your job fucks up.

not just like, Huge Fuck Ups, like 'john deleted the only copy of Important Report and we had to run it again, so the project was delayed by two weeks past its due date and Big Deal Client will never work with us again', but like. 'james said he'd send me the file last monday, it's thursday, I asked where it was and he was like lmao soz forgot', or like, 'sarah processed [thing x] and accidentally missed [minor step y], or even like 'my boss set up a meeting with me on a day I am not in; and then tried to reorganise it on a day she is not in'.

Not as like, a grudge list, but just as an external 'this is how much everyone else in [your team/org/whatever] is fucking up all the time, and they're not about to be fired/fail their annual review/even getting a talking to about it, here is a benchmark that is not based on your own brain's perception (which is probably dogshit)'.

it doesn't have to be detailed (bc it's not really about the specifics, beyond maybe a vauge 'this is the scale of fuckup in question), but you do probably want dates, even just so you can look down your list (or whatever) and be like '2nd feb: john fucked up. 3rd feb:kate fucked up. 4th feb: mark fucked up. 5th feb: jane fucked up. kate fucked up.'

Or like, don't do it, I'm not your parent, I'm just an idiot bootstrapping a profoundly stupid mix of neurochemicals into an approximation of functionality enough to like, keep paying rent and not have a break down while doing it.

I simply think that given that we have an elderly dog who can't be left without constant supervision lest she hurt herself or go potty on the floor, the responsibility of watching her should fall to the roommate who is unemployed and does nothing but smoke weed and watch half naked girls dance on twitch all day.

I was planning on using my day off to go donate plasma, something that would have earned me $50. But no, I have to watch the dog until it's too late to feasibly do so because "we don't want to make him mad by asking him to wake up """early""" [read as: anytime prior to 2pm] to do it." Because he is exactly the brand of jackass who will get angry and make it the entire rest of the household's problem if he is asked to do literally anything other than sit on his ass.

I know I haven't literally lost $50, but I've lost $50 for no reason other than that both of the women I live with are in love with this piece of shit for some unfathomable reason and would in a heartbeat kick me out instead of him if I tried to push back against any of his bullshit

strikes are good strikes are great i am 100% in support of a general strike but also you cannot guilt trip random individuals for not participating in a general strike because not everyone can afford the lost wages. like it’s brutal out here some of our employers do illegal strike retaliation like it’s nbd and the unions have a hard time suing them because the employer holds too much power and is tied to the government :( some employers have enough money that they can just do illegal retaliation because when something is punished by a fine, it’s basically legal if you have the funds for it

maybe i am being a huge bitch and terrible and unfair ????? perhaps that’s the problem ???? and that is likely. however the council (my two best friends and my mom) have concurred that i should actually be angrier and meaner so i think im doing my best atm

Stuck at a red light and I could count 16 cranes all making new condos and apartments. Maybe a few of them are offices but they looked like apartments.

Filled me with a new sense of dread

Wish my parents would take the "not swearing at me and shouting about how they own the house I live in" challenge every time I push back mildly against them treating me like a literal child challenge.