Reblogged your-dads-filing-cabinet
I would like to submit for your perusal my big boy baby Screech. He lived a happy ten years as our personal gremlin and we loved him very much- he passed away almost two years ago and I miss him every day, but I love sharing his goofy face with people. He was a sweetie boy who loved to steal turkey out of people's sandwiches and sit on fabric while my mom was trying to pin patterns on it. May my squeaky bother boy live on in the antics of every black cat!
You can’t do this to me. Beloved boys who have passed on to the great yonder make me immediately start sobbing like a child. I’m at work. I’m in the bathroom at work sobbing my goddamn eyes out. I love Screech. He was such a beautiful boy. You were blessed to have had him. I hope he lives on in my boy as well. Oh Christ I’m going to cry all over Ollie when I get home, too. Thank you for sharing Screech. Thank you for allowing me to know of him. I’m crying for Screech and I’m crying for the world. I’m so happy I get to be alive and love and cry and be sad and happy and gross about it all. What a wonderful world. What an incredible chance to exist
#Sorry#Oversharing#Thank you for Screech#This isn’t me speaking in hyperbole I need to be clear I wouldn’t cheapen this like that#I’m having an existential moment in a public shitter#I’m so happy to share the world with beings who love#I gotta stop ugly crying now or they’re gonna call a welfare check on me#Good night sweet Screech#I gotta go#Jesus
The problem with giving advice to angry and suffering people is that rather frequently the thing they need to know to improve their position is the last thing they want to hear and not something they have the capacity to internalize or accept
#I’m at work#Sorry#Wish I could help you angry shoplifting 13 year old#I’d tell you I grew up with a girl in your exact position and I fully understand but it will sound condescending and out of touch#I could sit down right now and describe exactly how the next ten years are gonna go for you but you won’t believe me and you won’t care#And the unfortunate truth is that the solution yiu want is the solution I KNOW you want and nobody is in a position to provide it#I saw your grandma pick you up in her car that smells like cigarettes with the six pack in the back seat#I can see you’re wearing your dad’s Lucky Lager hoodie with the welder’s spark burns all up the front#I can see you keep your sleeves pulled over your hands and you have twenty mismatched bracelets#That don’t completely cover the texture of your skin underneath#Your shoes are a size too big like mine were growing up#Because if you get something new it needs to last longer than it’ll take to grow out of it#I’d like to tell you I saw you#Even if you didn’t get caught#Because I feel like it would mean more to you that someone was paying attention#All that thick black eyeliner makes your eyes look huge#But your hair is oily and tangled#And your shirt smells like weed#And you’re holding yourself like you’re used to being small#That’s the tough part of growing up#Looking bigger than you feel#And realizing you need things that are missing years before you learn how to look for them#Stuff you’re gonna spend decades learning how to ask for#Idk maybe I’m just being corny#Maybe I’m way fucking off#I just really hate seeing unhappy kids#Really hate seeing what happens to them when they can’t find their way out of the box#Yanno?
Reblogged
Anonymous asked:
Must be nice having a functioning sense of smell. Any favorite smells? Or maybe any particularly interesting ones, like the ants?
- Ripe yellow plums
- Hot tomato vines in the sun (sweet-ish)
- Dirt (NOT topsoil)
- Asphalt
- Rotting leather (not bad but not good?)
- Gunfire
- Dry beach sand
- Teeth (taste and smell both bad)
- Fresh wet bones (kinda buttery)
- Old campfire smoke (sorta wet)
- River water (like if metal wasn't metallic)
- Pine wood shavings (very distinct; different from other wood)
- Steamed cedar wood (muskier than regular wood)
- Warm dandelions
I'm getting a lot of sideeye for "teeth" but I mean teeth that are not in your head, not like bad breath. I mean old baby teeth or wisdom teeth or whatever. They stink so so bad even years later, bone is fine but teeth smell sharper and like. Less mineral-y? Like a chalky, powdery smell. Like expired skin medication for old people. Like topical steroid crea.
Goddamnit TEETH smell bad, I said what I MEANT
Also I'm adding
- Iodized table salt
- Dog (I hate dog smell I'm sorry dogs are angels but does nobody else notice this??? Everything a dog touches smells like sweaty feet and fritos, if you own dogs i can smell you im sorry)
- Cardboard
- Linseed oil
- Cold
- Sickness
- Stress sweat (different from normal sweat: stressed people smell kinda bitter-sharp and people who are just working out smell like. Cleaner? Idk)
- Tears (kinda like pool water)
- Warm plastic
- New socks from a department store
- Oil that's gone bad, pretty much any kind, it all kinda gets that waxy crayon deal
I didn't think about that but yeah. Terminally ill people- at least the folks I've met, which isnt many- don't smell like fever or sick the way healthy-sick people do, and they don't smell like dead people either. They're just like. Colder-smelling. Like the difference between walking in the park in the autumn and walking in the park after a heavy snowfall. Kind of sweet-ish, but the way club soda is sweet. Or how Lacroix is sweet.
Like... if a hyperactive child is room-temperature sprite then my grandfather was a refrigerated can of lemon-lime Lacroix that you drank with your nose plugged.
Sorta muted, definitely colder, and sweet. A bit like overripe fruit.
People with infections or sepsis smell VERY sweet-powdery-bitter, though. And it's cloying, the warmer they are, like being locked in a hot car with the windows up.
Its not the best.
Anonymous asked:
Wait why were you in israel/palestine? Aren’t you canadian?
I am. A friend of my family was traveling from Egypt to Jerusalem on pilgrimage and someone who had reserved a spot in the group had to drop out, so there was a last-minute seat available and they asked me if I was interested.
Life is short, and it wasn't the sort of trip I'd be able to afford on my own in a million years, so I tagged along as the token agnostic.
And I'm glad I did, because a few months later some of the places we'd visited were leveled flat.
A lot of beautiful, rolling green hillsides are charred dust now, and good, kind people are dead.
Buildings we slept in are gone. Children who waved to us in the street are gone. Small shops and vendors and houses are gone. Old men gathered together to smoke and chat in little rooms by the streetside are gone.
Passing from Israel into Palestine was a visible, abrupt switch from a modern city not unlike Vancouver to a slum. Like some of the reservations I've been to here up north that go to shit sometimes, where the Chief and his family all have brand new BMW's and nobody else has had their plumbing fixed.
Buildings were repaired with minimal supplies, trash was gathered in the streets, and the roads were bare dirt for long stretches at a time. You could tell that this wasn't a place being treated kindly, but people were doing their best. Everyone we met treated us well. Everyone we met was kind, and welcoming, and generous.
One man I spoke with said he was hoping to come to Canada someday. Take his family and live here. He asked how cold it got.
I told him that their winter was like our summer. He didn't like that- said he didn't like being cold.
I told him to wait for summer, then, and he could visit with me. Told him everywhere he'd have to see when he arrived, all the best landmarks and museums.
The first bombs dropped before winter.
I don't know if he waited.
There is an odd sort of desperation in trying to make up for being an awful, critical, abusive, shitty teenaged caregiver by being patient and careful and better when you're all grown up
Like
I was a kid, and it shouldn't have been my job to be a good dad for you, but it was my job, and I fucked up, and I wish that you'd tell me you hate me for it because then at least I'd know you understand that you deserved better
And maybe if you could hate the person who I was, I'd know you'd be safe from it happening again, now that this better version of me isn't always close
Reblogged
I collect handmade cups. My brother came for a visit the other day and asked which one was the grail
Okay so this started as a list of hobbies but I really like making lists so now it's a rated list of hobbies judged by level of personal enjoyment
- Reupholstry: 5/10
- Linocut: 7/10
- Scrapbooking: 8/10
- Acrylic painting: 9/10
- Watercolor painting: 9/10
- Sewing: 8/10
- Needle felting: 8/10
- Woodburning: 7/10
- Antiquing: 9/10
- 2D animation: 7/10
- Knitting: 6/10
- Crochet: 5/10
- Jiu jitsu: 8/10
- Boxing: 3/10
- Ballroom dancing: 4/10
- Aerial gymnastics: 5/10
- Fiction writing: 7/10
- Freshwater aquary: 6/10
- Yoga: 5/10
- Choir: 4/10
- Metalwork: 8/10
- Woodwork: 7/10
- Jewelry making: 7/10
- Collecting ceramics: 10/10
- Collecting skulls: 9/10
- Collecting antique silverware: 7/10
- Embroidery: 5/10
- Beadwork: 6/10
- Leatherwork: 6/10
- Interior design: 8/10
- Fashion design: 6/10
- Sex education: 8/10
- Photorealistic stippling: 10/10
- Circuitry: 4/10
- Web design: 3/10
- Tea tasting: 4/10
- Wig collecting: 7/10
- Hairdressing: 7/10
- Gardening: 3/10
- Farming: 2/10
- Video editing: 6/10
- Photography: 7/10
- Swimming: 6/10
- Hiking: 5/10
- Composing music: 3/10
- Singing: 7/10
- Piano: 3/10
- Guitar: 2/10
- Crosswords: 6/10
- Sodoku: 5/10
- Poetry: 7/10
- Cooking: 8/10
- Baking: 5/10
- Makeup: 7/10
- Videography: 3/10
- Stop motion animation: 9/10
- Collecting blankets: 8/10
- Quilting: 6/10
- Reading: 10/10
- Doom scrolling: 7/10
- Tattoo design: 7/10
- Shibari: 4/10
- Sorting things by colour: 10/10
- Foraging: 9/10
- Camping: 6/10
- Pottery: 8/10
- Sculpture: 8/10
- Whittling: 3/10
- Costume design: 6/10
- Meditation: 5/10
- Pattern making: 6/10
- Chess: 6/10
- Poker: 6/10
- Antique book collecting: 6/10
- Kyaking: 8/10
- Canoeing: 7/10
- Portaging: 5/10
- Skiing: 3/10
- Snow caving: 1/10
- Spelunking: 5/10
So to answer your question:
- Diving
- Voice acting
- Ceramics
- Flower arrangement
- Tattooing
- Mushroom cultivation
- Hunting
- Loom weaving
(I would very much like to try these!)
It's four in the morning and nobody asked but I think that one of the things I hate most about getting older is looking back and knowing which of the chubby-cheeked, gap-toothed little kids who collected Pokémon cards and played grounders and scraped their knees on the playground were destined for gaunt faces and blackened fingers, wearing mismatched shoes and screaming slurs at passersby from the sidewalk.
I know which of those children don't make it, now, and whose futures don't reach as far as they think, but I don't know which ones will get better, and I worry for the rest
What could have been done to help, if we'd known back then?
About the kid who gets hit by a car at 16?
About the one who's on meth at 25?
The one who killed herself a few months before graduation?
Horse girls and class clowns and little boys who dressed up as power rangers for Halloween.
Man, what the hell happened?
Reblogged
Okay but do white people age badly or do we just not recognize signs of aging in other races or is it a combination of the two because there was this *really* cute girl in one of my college courses and I didn't realize how bad I'd guessed until I told her I was 18 and she said she had a son my age
lmao I'm 27 now I just think that a lot
You think I don't know I've been manipulated? That I haven't noticed my amab peers growing up with different privileges, different expectations, different freedoms? You think I washed dishes in the kitchen while the men drank and talked, cleaned floors while my brothers ran buckshot, cooked dinners and ran chores and was told to stay clean and behave "like a good girl" and never once questioned it? How blind do you think I am? How fucking ignorant of my own experience do you think that I must be? Do you think I've never felt rage? That I've never been told I wasn't good enough, strong enough, smart enough, because I was a girl, and girls were second best? Do you think I've never wanted to tear my skin off my bones to be seen as just a human being for five fucking minutes? To know what it's like for strangers to look at you, and see a person? You think I've never been so fucking angry?? Fuck you. I know. I've been there. I've felt this resentment, I've felt this fear. I've had men follow me home, leer, suggest vile shit over my shoulder and call me "sweetheart". Do you know the rage I've felt? Have you felt it, too? Not a hot rage, but cold, sharp, and easy. The kind of thin, homicidal calm that could make truly regrettable choices. And do you know what I've done with that anger? I've breathed it out, and moved on. It's still there, and it's still mine, but it doesn't control me anymore. It's not a feral dog I set loose on any face I suspect may someday slight me. You want me to shit all over every potential threat I see on the off chance that a handful of them might truly deserve it? Like I'm some kind of senseless wounded animal trapped in a corner? How dare you. Is that all I am? Some weak and frightened thing? Oh, I've been hurt, so now all I can ever be is a cowering dog, biting any hand that comes close? How DARE you. I know now how to tell the difference between a friend and an enemy, and it's not some invisible secret hidden away in someone's pants. So I'm going to be kind and happy and forgiving and GOOD, to EVERYONE, because FUCK you, and FUCK this shit. I'm not your victim-shaped doll to play house with. Go Fuck Yourself