“this thing is rare and only affects 1% of the population” dude that’s 80 million people can you shut up
“this thing is so rare, if you put everyone it affects on an island it would be the 20th most populated country in the world, more than the UK, more than South Korea, and more than Canada AND Australia AND Tunisia all put together. we can literally forget about it that’s not many people”
it’s about autism and EDS and intersex variations and about trans people and also it’s about golden blood and it’s about blind people, it’s about screaming all day long and howling the night out that you exist even if you’re not everywhere, you’re small but your heart beats and your lungs pump air and they want you forgotten in the pages of a book they won’t read
1. As he lay in bed he could hear Thorin still humming to himself in the best bedroom next to him: Far over the misty mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old
2. It was after tea-time; it was pouring with rain, and had been all day; his hood was dripping into his eyes, his cloak was full of water; the pony was tired and stumbled on stones; the others were too grumpy to talk. “And I’m sure the rain has got into the dry clothes and into the food-bags,” thought Bilbo.
Barker then turned his attention to his fellow author J.K. Rowling, who has had her fair share of controversy over the last few years over her opinions on the transgender community. “There’s a lot of pain amongst the transgender people that I know,” Barker stated. “They have a lot of issues in the world as it is, without a famous author opining on the subject. It just seems redundant. It just seems unkind.”
Noting Rowling’s vast financial success, Barker felt that Rowling’s newfound position of fame ought to exclude her from discussing trans rights. He added, “It really just seems redundant for a woman as successful, as validated in the world, as Ms Rowling, to be negative, to be disruptive if you will, to a very beaten up subculture. These are human beings. She has no right to opine, I think, upon the lives of human beings that she does not know.”
“I feel very protective of people who are on the edge of our culture as gay people still are,” Barker continued. “And certainly transgender people are on the edge of our culture. And here you have one of the most successful people in the frigging world – Ms Rowling. Going after a very emotionally vulnerable portion of our culture. It just seems unnecessary and unfair.”
☽ Memory becomes absolute garbage. Like “why am I in the kitchen?” garbage. “What was I saying?” garbage. Their brain is running on buffering screens and regret.
☽ Fine motor skills? Ha. They’re dropping everything. Pens. Phones. Entire moral compass. They’re basically a malfunctioning claw machine.
☽ Hallucinations creep in. That jacket on the chair? Suddenly a person. That noise? Definitely doom. Everything becomes mildly haunted.
☽ Time gets weird. Five minutes feel like a year. A full hour disappears and they swear they blinked wrong.
☽ Irritation skyrockets. They get mad at chairs. At air. At gravity. At the audacity of other humans continuing to exist.
☽ Their voice sounds weird. Slow, scratchy, like they swallowed sand.
☽ They walk like a drunk baby giraffe. Walls suddenly jump closer. Floors rise unexpectedly. Coordination said: “I’m out.”
☽ Zoning out becomes a hobby. They stare at random objects like they’re trying to understand quantum mechanics.
☽ Vision blurs in and out. Like someone smeared Vaseline over their eyeballs out of spite.
☽ Their body just hurts. Not a dramatic pain, just the “why does my skeleton feel like it’s buzzing?” pain.
☽ Food cravings go feral. They’d fight someone for a stale cookie.
☽ Terrible choices. They will absolutely say “I’m fine” while making decisions that end in disaster.
☽ Random emotional implosions. Crying because their sock feels wrong? Yes.
☽ Cold hands. Cold feet. Cold heart. (Okay maybe not the last one, but it feels like it.)
My partner just sent this post to me and pointed out that a lot of these are also how you’d write chronic fatigue.
all those posts that are like “you and your blorbo swap lives” “draw your blorbo in your outfit” etc etc are fun and all but every time im like. bold if you to think i have a singular blorbo. its a bleebus circus up in here.
Fascinated by the thought of the plural of blorbo being bleebus
I kindof assumed the plural of blorbo would be Blorbai
Bleebus is the infant form of blorbo. Blorbai is the plural. Bleebai is the plural of bleebus, unless you’re being silly on purpose, in which case it can be bleebuses.
In a mixed group, the adult plural (blorbai) takes precedence over the infant one.
You can, of course, also spell the plurals “blorbi” and “bleebi” which will produce a whole lot of wildly incorrect linguistics discourse.
I’m so happy to log into Tumblr for my monthlyish visit to find that we will never change.
Also,
What if we get crazy and decided to give the experience of forming a blorbo blorbee attachment– blorbire
“They asked me to tell you what it was like to be twenty and pregnant in 1950 and when you tell your boyfriend you’re pregnant, he tells you about a friend of his in the army whose girl told him she was pregnant, so he got all his buddies to come and say, “We all fucked her, so who knows who the father is?” And he laughs at the good joke…. What was it like, if you were planning to go to graduate school and get a degree and earn a living so you could support yourself and do the work you loved—what it was like to be a senior at Radcliffe and pregnant and if you bore this child, this child which the law demanded you bear and would then call “unlawful,” “illegitimate,” this child whose father denied it … What was it like? […] It’s like this: if I had dropped out of college, thrown away my education, depended on my parents … if I had done all that, which is what the anti-abortion people want me to have done, I would have borne a child for them, … the authorities, the theorists, the fundamentalists; I would have born a child for them, their child. But I would not have born my own first child, or second child, or third child. My children. The life of that fetus would have prevented, would have aborted, three other fetuses … the three wanted children, the three I had with my husband—whom, if I had not aborted the unwanted one, I would never have met … I would have been an “unwed mother” of a three-year-old in California, without work, with half an education, living off her parents…. But it is the children I have to come back to, my children Elisabeth, Caroline, Theodore, my joy, my pride, my loves. If I had not broken the law and aborted that life nobody wanted, they would have been aborted by a cruel, bigoted, and senseless law. They would never have been born. This thought I cannot bear. What was it like, in the Dark Ages when abortion was a crime, for the girl whose dad couldn’t borrow cash, as my dad could? What was it like for the girl who couldn’t even tell her dad, because he would go crazy with shame and rage? Who couldn’t tell her mother? Who had to go alone to that filthy room and put herself body and soul into the hands of a professional criminal? – because that is what every doctor who did an abortion was, whether he was an extortionist or an idealist. You know what it was like for her. You know and I know; that is why we are here. We are not going back to the Dark Ages. We are not going to let anybody in this country have that kind of power over any girl or woman. There are great powers, outside the government and in it, trying to legislate the return of darkness. We are not great powers. But we are the light. Nobody can put us out. May all of you shine very bright and steady, today and always.”
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