I have not abandoned the OC drawing meme btw

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.

I moved recently to start a new job and part of my commute now involves one of those high capacity toll booths where a two lane road suddenly flares out into 5-7 lanes of total anarchy with no lines anywhere, and then narrows back down to two lanes again, and we're just supposed to sort ourselves out? Who designed this

anyway I dreamed up this helpful anatomical guide on the drive home

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girl found dead in a hidden room.

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Take a break!

This is for anyone who's been working hard (me, because once exam season starts it never ends...)

(no reposts; reblogs appreciated)

hate that i have the brownie curse where i can't do shit if people are around

i love when my wife tries to kill me

oops been a while since (part 3) of this au

i know the whole "do you think jon ever used his powers to Know what his parents looked like" thing is far more devastating than this but what if he tried using his powers to remember original sasha? jon and sasha always seemed closer than the rest, he picked her (and tim) to work with him and tolerated a lot more nonsense from her than anyone else (using his password to access his computer [161], debating his pronunciation of calliope [25], etc)

and ofc jon and martin became significantly closer as the podcast went on, but in the beginning he was cruel to martin when he gave a statement but accepting of sasha? idk i think their friendship was a lot deeper than we realized (ESPECIALLY since his first murder in season 5 was because NotThem provoked him about sasha) and i think jon wouldve used his powers to Know the original sasha, not sure if it wouldve worked though

so so sorry to distract from the post but can yall read the tags for me because i suffered immensely for this post

My personal au titled "take me home au"

I have many pages of this written and drawn out in ballpen from last december and i decided to finally remake it digitally to get back into drawing.

This is more of an self insert than a Y/N but i still use y/n because its more comfortable for me.

Moon is just a prickly guy there is no virus

Seeing Twitter users recommending the People Make Games documentary as a good way to get insight on the issue is so….

I know, I’m always extremely disappointed whenever I come across someone who thinks it’s the end all be all explanations regarding the Studio ZA/UM situation.

Recommending that video always comes with a heavy caveat from me that the person needs to stop around the 40 minute mark since the interviewer shows a very clear bias that’s unbecoming of a journalist.

Regardless, now that more people are finding out about these layoffs, which might take out members of the studio that have been there since the beginning, it could finally help smack some sense into those Twitter users that actually thought, FOR SOME REASON, Rostov, Kurvitz, and Hindpere were lying for shits and giggles rather than seeing what's ACTUALLY going on which is that the investors have a very obvious agenda against the real wronged party. Hopefully this'll also open their eyes to how the People Make Games video fed into this twisted narrative that Kurvitz was somehow at fault/responsible for the theft of his own IP, but that might be asking too much from their concrete brains. Here's hoping though!

Daddy, don't go.

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help i cant stop drawing fem neuvillette

hi lovelies, realized that i did not say it on here before, but i will say it now.

i’m gonna be MIA from this blog for one week. bisan from gaza has called for a worldwide strike from january 21-28 to show support for the palestinians during this horrific genocide. striking involves several things (which i will provide in pics below), including completely abstaining posting on social media unless it is about palestine.

just in the last week, israel murdered over 1000 palestinians. there are no more fully-functioning hospitals in gaza, only 15 semi-functioning ones. the united states government itself has issued a statement saying that it does not believe in a ceasefire.

this is not war. this is not a conflict. this is an ethnic cleansing. this is genocide.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free. 🇵🇸

Aleah Finnegan clinches LSU's first national championship in the program's history.