#spoof.txt
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rewatching leverage and i did forget exactly how much of an asshole nate is.
like.
sir. i understand that you are catholic, traumatized and so goddamned repressed that you might as well be at the core of the earth.
but god.
why do you have to be a little bitch about it.
man cannot say a genuine word about how much he cares for people to save his life.
like. he's definitely an actions over words kinda guy but it's not that hard to say 'hey we do need you because you make this team better' or 'hey good job guys you're doing great'
i'm surprised he can think–that stick's gotta be compressing his brain with how far up his ass it is.
i love him to death but man do i want to just slap him sometimes.
and that's good character design!
also? no one fucking appreciates hardison enough. i could write an essay on how much they do not fucking appreciate him.
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sometimes, i stand in front of the mirror before getting in the shower and i just think 'god. this body is so beautiful.'
i haven't always thought so. there have been innumerable times where i looked and wondered whose face that could possibly be, because i was sure it wasn't mine.
my hair was too frizzy, sometimes, my shoulders too wide, my head too small. why did my stomach move like that, stick out above my waistband and ruin the line of my body.
there have been late nights where i would stare at the ceiling while i showered, desperate to be clean and just as desperate not to live inside this skin. dressing rooms of stores where the waistband wouldn't fit past my thighs. coats pulled on in a rush after a long summer of sitting in storage that no longer fit.
other times, where my favorite pair of jeans were suddenly too big, where shirts and dresses hung loose and strange.
i don't know if that will happen again. bodies change and we don't get to control how.
but for now.
i stand in front of the mirror.
the rolls on my back are the same ones my mother had. when we were very small and would ask about her body, she told us that she loved her body, because it had made us.
the crinkle of my eyes is mirrored in my brother and the way he laughs, high spirited and so very carefree with every emotion.
the way my chin textures and my eyes puff up when i cry is something i share with my sister, so i always know exactly how upset she is.
my stomach is soft and round. when i was smaller, and still, sometimes, when i get the chance, i curl up to my father on the sofa, leaning into his side while i read or play on my phone. his belly is big and soft and when i listen i can hear his heartbeat.
i have never had defined muscles. i can do thirty push ups in a row and take the groceries up one trip, but you cannot see it in the shape of my arms. not in my aunt's either, but when i was young i changed her contact name to 'nice hugs' because she gave the best ones.
my body is a patchwork quilt of the people i love, the people they loved, and every part of it has been loved and cared for and cherished before i had it. eyebrows and ears and fingers and rolls and folds and skin and fat and bone–there have been countless people who looked at these things and thought 'that's beautiful. this person i love is so, so beautiful.'
it is my body, but it has belonged to others before me and it is made up of so much love and care that it seeps out of my skin, like a tangible thing able to sink into the thoughts of too much and too little and not right and burst them apart from the inside out.
bodies come in all shapes and sizes. this is what i was told when i was young, whenever i asked. they are beautiful for that, but most of all they just exist. they can't be wrong. the truth is not wrong and it is not right–it simply exists.
they have been doing that since before anyone can remember. they will do that long after i am dead and gone. and along the way they will be loved, and i want to be the one doing some of the loving.
#body positivity#body image#body image issues#tw body image#people come in all shapes and sizes and i don't mean that as a trite line#fat#poetry#thinking about how much i love the people around me and how it makes it so much harder to hate my body if i love theirs#spoof.txt
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it's weird bird hour and i'm not busy, so i drew this little man my friend named jeffery bob.
check out their wikipedia page, these dudes are a riot. here. look.
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isn't it strange? how you can love someone, with only part of you heart?
because i do love you. i do. but the people i consider some of my closest friends are the ones you think an abomination–you would spit at them in the street–you are afraid of them.
they're my age. they do not know you–they want nothing more than to be left alone to live their lives.
you love me.
but you pick and choose which parts of me to love and sometimes i wonder if you only love the person i was when i was two and five and ten and twelve.
that person does not exist. she is a mask i wear when i talk to you, smiling and laughing and not once letting on that there's something beneath because you wouldn't be able to see it anyway.
i will only ever be that little girl to you.
i haven't been her in a long time.
and we have it in common, that we both love her.
but i never had a chance to pretend that she didn't grow up, and you will never do anything but.
so i love you, but not with my whole heart.
there is a part of me that hates you, an instinctive reaction to anyone who would threaten the people i care about. there is a part of me that hates you because you will not look at me–only at who i was when they put me in your arms for the first time.
and i hate this, hating you, but what else do you want me to do?
because.
i am afraid of you.
i am afraid of losing that cornerstone of love that has been there my whole life.
only–maybe i lost it the second i grew limbs you wouldn't look at and heads you wouldn't kiss and eyes you wouldn't meet.
so.
you love me. i love you.
and somehow, this room is still so empty.
#my grandfather and my best friend's grandmother both found the same shitty conservative skit to send us#separately and in no relation to each other#and i am Having Big Feeling About It#because it's past eight pm and i need to go to sleep#fuck#spoof.txt#late night poetry
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at 90 minutes of audio and i'm only 2/3 of the way through the text of this fic
genuinely no idea how i'm going to cut this thing together on my frankenbook (10+ year old macbook my brother stole from the dump and work and turned into a chromebook for me) because i haven't figured out how to install editing software so i'm using audiomass online which works but my loading times are very slow
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there is a kid crying very loudly on this bus. he will, apparently, be doing this the entire ride.
i am, obviously, putting my headphones on with loud music and keeping my mouth shut because this mother is dealing with three children more or less alone (her husband took the fourth to a different seat).
i am being very brave and strong (doing the bare minimum to exist in politely in a public space while being subjected to Bad Noise).
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oh my god. oh my god.
okay under the cut for spoilers of the sun and the star.
god. 'do you ever think about what life would be life without this fundamental part of yourself, something you can't control and didn't choose? it makes your life so dangerous, it fucks with your childhood and social skills and life and relationship and people will hate you and try to hurt you for it until the day you die. don't you wonder who you would be without that?'
'no. no, i never have because i owe so much of who and what i am to this. i have done so much and still have so much left to do thanks to it. i have skills and experiences and relationships and people i wouldn't give up for the world and certainly not just for physical safety or conformity. i might not have had a say in who i am but i get to choose what to do with it and i am choosing to love myself and the people it has brought me.'
i have read entire queer novels less succinct than these three lines of dialogue. this is queerness for me. all these points of connection and community and opportunity to help and protect and just understand. there is so much of myself that i owe to my queerness, so much i would not be and wouldn't have without it.
so no. i never think about who i would be without it.
i will not trade my community and my experiences and my abilities for normality. it's not worth it and it never has been and it never will be.
#i'm going fucking insane about this book and i'm only on page 62#putting this here because literally 90% of the people i could rant to about it are waiting to borrow my copy#the sun and the star#the sun and the star spoilers#tsats spoilers#spoof.txt
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i got to go to a party at a friend's to watch the first two episodes today, and. i'm so happy. it was the best way to experience it.
every time there was a book line or a really good moment we all shrieked, and broke out into whispers every three seconds and argued afterwards about sally and medusa and gabe.
those books were my childhood and i loved them so much, and this show is giving me back a little of that magic that had me sneaking the sea of monsters into the bathroom when twelve and supposed to be in bed, just so that i could have five more minutes to read.
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i am making a google doc. which has a list. of all my other google docs. which have my wipes in them. the pool of documents is alphabetized. i am at i. it has been an hour and a half.
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i realized i was queer when i was fourteen. we'd just moved to a new city, i was going to a new school, and until that point in life i hadn't put much thought into who i liked. i assumed i would have a husband because i wanted kids, but i was at orientation for my new school, and there was this girl there–
but the point is, i realized i was queer in a new city, a new house, a new school, and.
the neighborhood we'd lived in before hadn't been the most religious neighborhood. some of our neighbors kept shabbat, some didn't, and there wasn't a real community there that we were part of. that was seven years of my life.
and then we moved. and we moved into a neighborhood where almost everyone was an orthodox jew, and my father taught at the yeshiva and we went to shul there on friday nights.
and for the first time in as long as i could remember, we had neighbors with kids closer to our age, who would come over and laugh and talk with my parents, who were friends with my mom, who asked me to babysit their kids on weekends.
and. look, i don't speak for the whole orthodox community, and there are plenty of orthodox jews who are fine with queer people, who are queer people, etc.
but fourteen year old me didn't know that.
fourteen year old me realized she liked girls and her first thought was 'oh my god, what will the neighbors think.'
because in my little teenage brain, we had just settled in this community and put down roots and my parents planned to live there for a long time, and what would it mean if they had a daughter who liked women, what would people think, would anyone ever talk to them again, how could i do that to them–
and i agonized over this for months. november december january febuary march. i remember being listless, crying while doing the dishes, refusing to tell anyone what was wrong.
(this seems like a good point in time to mention that this was all my dramatics and somewhat erroneous conclusions based on uncles-at-family-dinners and the like. as far as i knew my parents were totally fine with gay people , but they were outliers in the community. to be clear.)
i know the date i came out to my mother because i told her after a friend from my old school texted me 'are you part of the lgbt community? don't worry, i won't tell anyone'
(i'd fought with my best friend, who still went to that school, the year before, because she said that she thought gay people were weird. i had no friends in my new school yet.)
(i panicked and googled how to respond to that question and told her yes i was but only on wednesdays.)
she told me that she was pretty sure she was a lesbian, and please, not to tell anyone.
if she hadn't texted me and scared me like that, i don't know how long it would have taken me to tell my mom. she made me realize i couldn't do this alone.
years later, i cut my hair. it was at my waist and i convinced my mom to let me chop all of it off and get it cropped and short. i told her when it was over that i loved it and the only thing i was really worried about was what the neighbors would think, because i babysat their kids.
she told me that one of them had a sister who was married to a woman (she hadn't known earlier) and so i didn't have to worry about it. i doubt i'll ever meet her. she made me feel safer in my parents' community than anyone else in the world.
last year i went to a queer shabbat retreat up north. i met someone there whose parents live down the block from mine. we see each other, sometimes, when we're both in the area for shabbat. we sit and talk on the stoop of one of the apartment buildings and the night before pride he invited me over because he'd made flag cookies and wanted to eat the messy ones.
my father asked me, the week after that yom kippur, if i knew the son of one of the rabbis, because he'd been home and in shul for the first time in ages and had his ear pierced and as far as my dad knew his dad wasn't the most supportive, and he wanted to make sure he was okay.
i asked my friend and he laughed. they'd been friends for years, him and this guy, and my dad was wrong–his dad was very sweet about it.
i don't know where i'm going with this, really.
i've talked to my mom, sometimes, about learning to be thankful for the community being queer has brought me, all the people i get to know and love because of it.
i wish i could go back in time and hug fourteen year old me and tell her that the neighbors wouldn't say anything. they don't care. some of them will say 'do you want to come to mine? i made brownies' 'i like the pin on your bag' 'did you get a haircut recently? it looks nice'.
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stretch marks are the most bizarre thing to me. like, don't get me wrong, i think mine are fucking awesome. i know the whole tiger stripes thing is kind of dated but. dude. fuckin' stripes! forget cool sword scars, i've got like. silvery lightning bolts on my thighs and this super awesome violet pattern on my inner arm and it looks super fucking cool.
but also like. it's so strange that your body is occasionally just like. yeah hey sorry rush job over here. no we won't be coming back to fix it. no yeah it's there for like forever. does look cool as fuck though, so enjoy that.
because it's not consistent! one of my arms has all over and the other has exactly no stretch marks on it. none.
idk. i just think it's cool.
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i just finished watching the birdcage and??? the most movie ever???
first off, the way they don't play it as if armand could totally pass for straight. he's masc, not straight, and he has just as many issues as albert but a little less noticeable! he fucks up so many times and it's so good.
second, just, the whole relationship between armond and albert. they way he runs after albert immediately every time. the palimony papers. the way he respects him so much, and just. all of it.
third, most hilariously accurate representation of american conservatives ever. like obviously they're horrible people and that comes out in the scene before catherine arrives but they'll do anything to maintain their reputation, even dress in drag and dance through a gay nightclub. like yes it was for the bit but it just highlights how hypocritical they are so often, and how little they really believe in their ideals.
just. what an incredible movie. beyond all that, it's so genuine and happy and proud to show itself off and i love it so much
#get thee to the queer popcorn#gonna watch a couple more queer classics before the summer ends i think si that's my tag#the birdcage#spoof.txt
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my 10 y/o brother is reading house of hades and he's a percico shipper now apparently. he says they were supposed to be 'a thing'.
this from the boy who read the wings of fire graphic novels six months ago and freaked out tat starflight and sunny were married because they like each other.
what do i do with this.
#personally i disagree with him#but he can ship whatever he wants obviously#just#he's 10???#spoof.txt#percy jackson
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hiding in the bathroom until i hate myself a little less✨ and then i have work at 5:30
#i'm entirely certain all my classmates hate me too#because i walked into thay exam and sat down and immediately burst out crying#which persisted throughout the whole two hours#so i'd rather drown than show my face again actually thanks#spoof.txt
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um??? 2.5k in one sitting who???
#the problem is that i still need to write the rest of the fic#because i have the beginning and the ending and not the actual plot#but not a bad start#also maybe i will do an epilogue where bill meets martha and discovers that she is very awesome#but also a hot mess just like everyone else and not nearly as cool as she seems by the traces of her left on the TARDIS#already started a fic like that with amy even before i started writing this#can't do it with rose and I don't know if i want one with clara#donna doesn't work either and i think the doctor would actually die if he had to see donna again as twelve#oh i should edit and post that other fic actually that does have that#okay one sec#spoof.txt
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oh so it's an 'i can hear the lightbulbs' kind of day. alright. that's fun.
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