Snow's Art

Stayin' Frosty Commissions: Open Requests: Closed

[makingsenseofwhathappened]

hey, just a reminder

a lot of people won’t believe you. they might act like they do, then drift away. or tell you it wasn’t that bad. they might say nothing, which somehow hurts worse.

it’s not your fault they needed it to be cleaner, scarier, more like a movie...

they didn't protect you they protected the story that made them comfortable.

you deserved better and still do.

– someone you don't have to prove anything to

[gothhabiba]

Part of the point of institutions having “accommodations” for disabled people is appeasement—in addition to vetting (i.e., setting the requirements to get accommodations lets you decide who is ‘really’ disabled). It takes up disabled people’s time and energy trying to navigate all of these byzantine structures and institutions that don’t seem to communicate with each other—while making ‘abled’ people assume that “disabled ppl get accommodations, so nothing is wrong.”

If someone raises a concern that such and such a policy is ableist or eugenicist in who it (clearly, deliberately) pushes out of a program, the answer is a cavalier or even hostile “well obviously there are accommodations”

[gothhabiba]

Okay. There are accommodations. Let’s say the terms of them are that you must get a letter from a specialist saying that you have a qualifying condition or difficulty. Great. So you go to your GP to get a referral to a specialist. Maybe getting to your GP is physically taxing or expensive. Maybe it’s impossible because you’re immunocompromised and no one even wears masks in doctor’s offices anymore.

Maybe you can get a remote appointment and maybe you can’t. Maybe the appointment takes weeks to get. I hope you’re keeping an eye on that deadline! Maybe the appointment itself costs money you don’t really have. But at least now you have it.

Okay. So now you need to get your GP to agree that you need to see a specialist. Your GP says that actually, first, they’re going to ask you to drink more water every day and come back later and see if that wasn’t the problem.

Okay. Appointment number 2. Drinking more water did not fix the problem (or waiting, or ibuprofen, or physical therapy, or whatever). So now you get the referral?

No. Now you need a blood test, to rule out that it’s caused by a vitamin deficiency. Appointments 3 and 4 are to draw blood and discuss the results. And congratulations! You’re deficient in vitamin B whatever. So now you need a supplement. Obviously you’ll need to be taking that for six months and then come back for another appointment to see if that hasn’t fixed the issue. Oh, the deadline will have passed by then? Idk, I guess apply next year?

Congratulations! It’s been six months and you’re no longer vitamin-deficient or dehydrated and you’re still disabled. NOW you get your referral to a specialist! So you take your referral and you call the specialist they referred you to—

And they refuse to see you. They don’t tell you why, they just don’t think you really need to see a specialist. Idk, maybe figure it out yourself? Okay. So you call a different specialist who was also recommended to you—they’re not accepting new patients. OKAY!

So you call a different specialist—by the way, I hope you have a whole bunch of rheumatologists (or gastroenterologists, or neurologists &c.) in your immediate area, or else moving your search further and further afield could make transport expensive!

This specialist has this thing where they don’t answer the phone—you leave a message and they call back. Okay. But when they call back weeks later, you don’t get to the phone in time. You’re sleeping or in another room (and, remember, disabled). So you have to call and leave another message and just kind of hope that you’re at the phone when they call you back the NEXT time. By this point it’s been about a year.

But you finally get in to see a specialist! They listen to your symptoms and say “yeah, that shouldn’t be happening.” They’re going to try a course of treatment (btw, if it doesn’t work, you’re going to have to go somewhere ELSE, because mostly doctors only want to try one thing). But in the meantime you have your ✨letter from a specialist✨ [sound of choir hitting C major chord].

I hope you had the time, energy, access, and money to do all of that! If you didn’t I guess you’re just not applying for that thing after all.

Okay. You submit your letter from a specialist along with your description of the condition and your notes about how you anticipate it affecting your studies or work and what accommodations you will need and whatever else the form asks for. You get a call from someone who works at the institution in question and they talk over what you need and they say that you can get x, y, and z accommodations.

And now you have a special form with your name on it that will be sent to all relevant parties! And they'll know what you need and they'll have to give it to you! You have 🌟accommodations🌟 [sound of choir hitting a sick F minor 7 add 9 add 13 chord]. So now we’re done! And everything is smooth sailing from here on out!

Oh. Oh you little baby. Oh you sweet summer child.

Actually, the department dealing with accommodations is like four different departments that don’t communicate with each other. So somehow no one got you a badge to be able to access the ground-floor entrance of the building you need to be in (because, yep! It is *locked*!)

So you miss the first class or training or whatever, and you need to send a bunch of emails to do damage control about that AND get your badge. Who knows how long it’ll take someone to get that to you—I hope you don’t miss another day!

Sometime later, you contact your accommodations liaison and say “hey, can I get accommodation y that you said would be a possibility?” And they say. Huh. I don’t know where the budget for that would come from? And you’re thinking... well, isn’t that your job? To help me get the accommodations I need?

Nope! Their job is to help the institution not get sued without shelling out for every accommodation someone asks for by denying you everything they think they can get away with. So to get that aid worker, or ergonomic chair, or extra laptop, or extra computer application, you’re going to need to fight for it. Gee, I sure hope you’re not too exhausted from the last year of running this rat race, + the actual tasks of your job/degree, to do that!

Okay, well, still. You can get along without that thing as long as you're willing to run your health into the ground. Surely everyone has been sent your 🌟accommodation form🌟 and surely everyone has read it, so you should at least get the things specified on that.

Except someone forgot to send those out, so now a room you’re supposed to be in is up stairs / has no accessible bathroom nearby / no interpreter has been hired / whatever it is. You’re asked if you can't try to get by without the accommodation? No alternative is offered. So you have to suck it up and struggle through this thing, or change to something else... if you don’t quit or drop out.

Let's say you pass that hurdle. Now something new has come up—you're cited for not doing [thing you can't do]. Maybe it was something that your 🌟accommodation form🌟 specified that you couldn't do, and maybe it's something that you forgot to mention.

Either way, you contact your liaison at the disability office. But be careful! The more ‘difficult’ you are, the less they’re willing to accommodate you... but the less difficult you are, the less you get accommodated... can you say “catch 22”?

Sometime later you have to do something new, at a different site. You’re told that everyone there knows you’re coming and will have a place for you to sit down. But no one told you that you would have to walk a mile to get there... “can’t walk long distances” was in your form! And when you get there you find that actually no one knew you were coming and no one knows what you need. No sight of the promised chair (bathroom / interpreter / &c.).

I guess you’d better not raise a fuss? But isn’t this getting ridiculous? So you email your liaison... and they are decidedly terse with you. Without them on your side things are only going to get harder now!

Okay. Okay. Your supervisor / professer / whatever sends an email. Everyone is going to get together and do [thing you can’t do]. Well you’ve learned your lesson now so you’re not going to contact your liaison—if they’re not going to share the information they should, maybe you can do it yourself?

So you email your superior and say “I can’t do x, which is outlined in my form!” They email back and maybe they’re apologetic and maybe they’re rude but it’s whatever. You take some measure to circumvent the thing you can’t do.

Now you scope out every single building before events in that building and send emails directly to that department asking about accessibility. But in the course of trying to get accommodations directly instead of relying on your superiors and the disability office to communicate with each other—someone copied in the disability office. Now your liaison hates you!

Have you dropped out yet? No? Okay.

Now you come across another requirement for the degree or the job that is another thing you can’t do or can do only with extreme difficulty and/or pain. And you’re thinking well, here we go again.

You know your options are 1. drop out 2. suck it up or find an alternative on your own 3. bring it up with the organiser of the thing 4. bring it up with your disability liaison (who is only becoming more and more rude to you)—and 2, 3, and 4 require energy that is so hopelessly drained by now.

You’re not able to focus on the thing you’re supposed to be doing because every separate activity has new forms to fill out and get approved, which requires time, energy, the eloquence to make your case, and for other people to afford you grace—by the way I hope you’ve maintained optimism, a sunny disposition, and endless patience and kindness through all of this, especially if, god help you, you’re a woman and/or of colour! Or else they’re not going to do that.

Throughout this time accommodations have been withheld as a cost-saving measure or to try to push the most disabled out of the program or else in order to punish you for being difficult, and you’re never sure which one. Your liaison and supervisors have told people about your disability who had no reason to have to know without your approval, which is illegal, but you can’t raise a fuss without risking more retaliation.

Intermittently the elevator in your building has been going out and you don’t know beforehand why it's out or how long it will be out for. You’re not informed about scheduled maintenance. So over the course of months you’ve been effectively trapped in places for hours. You haven't been able to pursue treatment for your actual health condition (which is a whole different byzantine nightmare) because the process of getting accommodations is so arduous.

You’re exhausted, you’re feeling angry, bitter, hopeless, abandoned, you’re experiencing the worst health of your life, physically and/or mentally. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep doing this.

So you’re struggling to figure out what to do and you try to vent to one of your peers. You’re not going to be able to do x! You’re disabled!

Oh! your peer says, politely surprised. But don’t they have accommodations for that?

[viralfrog]

[overlordraax]

[Video description: Video of a person using a spray bottle on their kitchen countertop, only for the camera to pan over to find another person holding a cockatoo in the same position as the cockatoo imitates the sound of the spray bottle. Both people struggle to hold back laughter in the video. end description]

[lyralit]

show, don't tell:

anticipation - bouncing legs - darting eyes - breathing deeply - useless / mindless tasks - eyes on the clock - checking and re-checking

frustration - grumbling - heavy footsteps - hot flush - narrowed eyes - pointing fingers - pacing / stomping

sadness - eyes filling up with tears - blinking quickly - hiccuped breaths - face turned away - red / burning cheeks - short sentences with gulps

happiness - smiling / cheeks hurting - animated - chest hurts from laughing - rapid movements - eye contact - quick speaking

boredom - complaining - sighing - grumbling - pacing - leg bouncing - picking at nails

fear - quick heartbeat - shaking / clammy hands - pinching self - tuck away - closing eyes - clenched hands

disappointment - no eye contact - hard swallow - clenched hands - tears, occasionally - mhm-hmm

tiredness - spacing out - eyes closing - nodding head absently - long sighs - no eye contact - grim smile

confidence - prolonged eye contact - appreciates instead of apologizing - active listening - shoulders back - micro reactions

[love-me-a-good-prompt]

50 WORDS TO USE INSTEAD OF “SAID”

Do you ever find yourself over-using the word “said” in your writing? Try using these words/phrases instead:

stated

commented

declared

spoke

responded

voiced

noted

uttered

iterated

explained

remarked

acknowledged

mentioned

announced

shouted

expressed

articulated

exclaimed

proclaimed

whispered

babbled

observed

deadpanned

joked

hinted

informed

coaxed

offered

cried

affirmed

vocalized

laughed

ordered

suggested

admitted

verbalized

indicated

confirmed

apologized

muttered

proposed

chatted

lied

rambled

talked

pointed out

blurted out

chimed in

brought up

wondered aloud

(NOTE: Keep in mind that all of these words have slightly different meanings and are associated with different emotions/scenarios.)

[andywarnercomics]

In honor of Day of the Dead, here’s a repost of my comic about the San Francisco Columbarium and the man who spent 26 years restoring it.

This comic originally appeared on Medium at The Nib. Go check out my other work there.

[true-me-snafu]

Emmitt and the Columbarium.

[jadequarze]

Sketches of them. Tbh, I didn’t plan of sketching Laudna’s face expressions and surprise, surprise, I sketch her out.

💥  [Ko-fi | Redbubble | Twitter | Youtube | INPRNT] can be found in pinned post.        

[heytatertot]

@nathanwpyle

I literally love this.

I couldn't stop laughing for 20 minutes.

No joke.

[sosuperawesome]

Plush Embroidered Octopi

Craft Pie Toys on Etsy

[sosuperawesome]

Felted Moths

Artisan Fibre on Etsy

[ousia-poetica]

Will the elusive pigeon fly away ?

Fuck Pigeons by Felicia Chiao.

[ousia-poetica]

The fantasy of the human being is infinite, enjoy the piece that you get.  By Key Monster

[wordsnstuff]

Pieces of A Novel - Wordsnstuff November Monthly Writing Challenge

The idea of this challenge is to plan one piece of your story per day. For those participating in NaNoWriMo, this may be a helpful tool to use in conjunction with your daily writing goal. This can help you sustain inspiration, and it can help you find that balance between careful planning and spontaneity that many struggle to maintain.

This tool is designed to help you plan and/or write a longer story in a short amount of time, particularly a novel. If you choose to both plan and draft each scene assigned to each day, you should in theory have a near complete first draft of your story in a single month. Instead of basing the challenge on a word goal, it's organized into a list of tasks. Once all/most of these scenes are planned or written, you will have a nearly complete draft, missing only the scenes unique to your story.

The inciting incident of the beginning of your story.

Establish your protagonist(s) core need and bring key characters into the picture.

A scene that progressively complicates the beginning of your story.

A scene that establishes the protagonist(s)'s strengths and/or weaknesses

A scene that creates a crisis question at the beginning of your story.

A scene that foreshadows the arc of the main characters.

A scene that climaxes the beginning of your story.

A scene that establishes what the protagonist wants, versus what they think they need, versus what they actually need, as well as what they're willing to do to get it.

A scene that resolves the beginning of your story.

A scene that gives the reader a glimpse into the antagonist's power, needs, or goals. Alternatively, if there is no antagonist, a scene that establishes the background of the main challenge the protagonist is trying to overcome..

The inciting incident of the middle of your story.

A scene with a twist—something new happens. A new friend, minor antagonist, or new information arises as a result of the middle inciting incident.

A scene that progressively complicates the middle of your story.

An unexpected twist gives the protagonist(s) false hope. An important clue or weapon arises.

A scene that creates a crisis question in the middle of your story.

A scene that establishes how the protagonist(s) and antagonist(s) motivations could become their downfall.

A scene that climaxes the middle of your story.

A scene that reveals the protagonist(s)'s and/or antagonist(s)'s greatest fears.

A scene that resolves the middle of your story.

A scene that foreshadows what the protagonist(s) and antagonist(s) will gain/lose in the process of pursuing their goal.

The inciting incident of the end of your story.

A scene that establishes that there is no turning back for your main character(s)

A scene that progressively complicates the end of your story.

A scene that establishes how the main character(s)'s strengths/weaknesses help or hinder their success

A scene that creates a crisis question at the end of your story.

A scene that establishes what the protagonist(s) and antagonist(s) learn once they initially succeed/fail

A scene that climaxes the end of your story.

A scene that answers one of the major questions of your story, or resolves an important dramatic theme.

A scene that resolves the end of your story.

(bonus) A scene that hints to the continuation of the story, if a sequel is to come.

–

Masterlist

If you enjoy my blog and wish for it to continue being updated frequently and for me to continue putting my energy toward answering your questions, please consider Buying Me A Coffee, or pledging your support on Patreon, where I offer early access and exclusive benefits for only $5/month.

[qrowpilled]

so i made one of those palette challenge things?? send me a character+a palette name and i’ll draw them in that palette yo.

also feel free to reblog this for ur followers to challenge u

all palettes courtesy of @color-palettes

[nevver]

Where is everybody? José Manuel Ballester

[purplephantompheonix]

I need an overlay of John Travolta

[eleganceintendent]

@purplephantompheonix

[e-seal-deactivated20210319]

Necromancer that doesn’t know they’re a necromancer and thinks they’re just a really good emt

[raimagnolia]

That is the funniest thing i have ever read

[ofgeography]

the thing was, she wasn’t going to be able to pass the recertification exam, and she couldn’t figure out why. annabelle studied. she practiced. she pulled out every trick and shortcut she’d learned during her two years as an EMT and none of it worked. she just – she didn’t get it. it made no sense.

“wake up,” she urged the dummy, pressing her hands to the pulse points on its wrists. “come on. what the fuck.”

“yeah, i don’t think that asking nicely is going to do the trick,” hank said, his eyebrows raised. his helmet, the special one they’d decorated for him with craft supplies from michael’s when he’d gotten promoted to firestation chief, sat askew on his head. “i can see now why they didn’t pass you.”

annabelle rolled her eyes. “it’s a psychological thing,” she said. “it’s like, you give the brain an instruction and it follows naturally. and the pulse-point thing always works. i don’t know why it’s not, like, in any of the books, but i swear to god it’s worked for me every time.”

it was true that annabelle had the best record on low body counts, which was good because she was the smallest person on the team not counting Georgie, who was a corgi. jake and lillian were always making fun of her for having been the shortest of their whole rookie class. but it hadn’t ever been a problem before; annabelle rarely had to carry anybody out, because she was good enough at getting them on their feet.

but none of that would matter if she couldn’t pass her stupid recertification exam, because they’d take her badge and she’d have to go be, like, a doctor or something.

hank blew out a long breath and sunk down to where she was kneeling on the station floor in full fire gear, giving CPR to the practice dummy, whom they called dierdre. there was a little light that went on when you’d saved its life. it had been a dull gray for an hour now.

“look, AB. i know you’re a good firefighter, and i know you know how to deliver CPR. just do it like you do it during an emergency. you’re overthinking it.”

“but this is what i do during an emergency!” annabelle cried, throwing her hands up. “i put my hands on their pulse points and i use psychological mumbo-jumbo and they just get up and walk!” 

hank blinked. “…really,” he said, voice flat. “people who’ve been inhaling smoke for half an hour just … get up and walk.”

“the brain is an incredibly powerful organ,” said annabelle, shrugging. “look man, i don’t know, okay? but it works. i haven’t had to actually do CPR in like a year and a half.”

he gave her a long, quiet look and said, “well….huh,” before pushing himself back up onto his feet and frowning off into the distance. “keep practicing,” he said after a minute, and left her there.

-

hank switched her team.

“what the fuck, man,” she said, sliding into the truck next to him as the sirens went on. “i can’t get CPR on one fucking dummy and suddenly you don’t trust me to do my job without supervision?”

carl and bethany very carefully did not meet her eyes in the rearview from the backseat. bethany pulled a magazine from beneath the seat and said loudly, “look, carl, jennifer aniston and brad pitt are getting back together.”

“thank christ,” said carl. “i’ve been really worried about jen.”

hank gave annabelle the flat look that had gotten him promoted to firestation chief in the first place, the one that said i’m your dad and you don’t want to disappoint me. as always, annabelle wilted underneath it, sliding down in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. it was a difficult feat in full gear but she wanted him to know she was feeling sullen.

“i trust you completely,” hank told her, his voice a light scold. “i want to see you in action so i can help you figure out what’s going wrong with the dummies. sometimes it’s hard for the brain to accurately remember everything that happens during a crisis.”

annabelle rolled her eyes. “i told you,” she said. “it’s just – it’s the same thing every time, I’m not like, blacking out.”

“great, then i’m about to learn a cool new trick,” hank said serenely, and pulled the truck out of the lot. annabelle kept her gaze focused out of the window, watching the city pass as carl and bethany talked loudly about which celebrities were dating which other celebrities and who wore what better. she tried to swallow down the nerves that tightened her throat. maybe the dummy was right. maybe she was doing something else and didn’t remember it. maybe the last two years had been a fluke and she had no business being a firefighter. maybe she was about to get fired.

there wasn’t a fire, though the alarm was going off. instead they found a bag of smoking popcorn and the collapsed heap of a forty-five year old bachelor type, down to just his boxers and a pair of slippers with llamas on them. he had no pulse. 

hank held carl and bethany back, directing them to deal with the smoke from the popcorn; annabelle he pointed toward the resident with a jerk of his chin. 

she sighed, kneeling by his side. she pressed her hands flat to his heart and then dragged them across his chest and down each arm, to his wrists. with her thumbs on his pulse point, she hissed, “let’s go, man. up and at ’em. you’re not meant to die in your underwear while cooking popcorn, come on.”

she held her breath for a few moments, conscious of hank’s eyes on her, and let out a long sigh of relief when she felt his pulse jump beneath her, watched his eyes flicker. “what the fuck?” he asked, voice a croak. “what happened?”

“you gotta eat more vegetables, bud,” annabelle told him, and looped his arm over her shoulders to help him get to his feet. she was so relieved she could have wept, but instead met hank’s eyes with a challenging glare. see? she thought. i told you. “let’s get you to the ambulance.”

-

“the bad news is that you have a lot of practicing to do if you want to pass your recert,” hank said without preamble, showing up at her apartment. she didn’t think she’d ever seen him in jeans before. it was weird. “the good news is i understand your problem now.”

annabelle stepped aside, beckoning him in. “what problem?” she demanded. “it worked! you saw it work. that’s the opposite of a problem.”

hank shrugged. he handed her a trifold that he’d clearly printed off at home. it said so you think you’re a necromancer. annabelle blinked down at it, and then up at hank, and then down at the trifold again. “i … don’t understand what’s happening here,” she told him honestly. 

“i’m not in the community and they’re kind of cagey, so i can’t really tell you a lot,” hank told her, stilted and visibly uncomfortable. “but i have a cousin who is, and um, i just want you to know that this doesn’t change anything. you’re still who you’ve always been and you have my complete support. we’ll figure out how to get around the recert. maybe i’ll – i can put you on admin duty to give you time to study. we’ll say it’s because of an injury.”

“hank,” annabelle said, with some urgency. “hank, this flier says the word necromancer.”

“yes,” agreed hank, looking relieved. “oh, good, you’ve heard of it already. i thought i was going to have to have the whole your body is changing talk.”

annabelle shook her head. “no, i – hank. you know that … um, you know that necromancy isn’t real, right? people can’t bring other people back from the dead. that’s crazy.”

“annabelle, not four hours ago you instructed a dead man to stand up and he did.”

“okay, he wasn’t dead, obviously. he was almost dead, at best.”

“no. he was dead.”

“i felt his pulse! it was very faint!”

“you called his pulse. no one else would have felt it, because it wasn’t there except in response to you.”

“hank, what the fuck.”

he shrugged. “read the flier,” he instructed. “and bring dierdre home with you. you’re going to have to practice a lot if you want to get recertified, considering you haven’t one time had to use any of the skills you learned the first go around.”

he bussed her temple as he went by, letting himself out of her apartment with a friendly wave. annabelle looked down at the flier in her hand with a frown. when she unfolded it, the first page said, everyone’s necromancy journey is different, but most people discover their gift by accident. have you ever brought a pet back to life? touched an elderly relatives hand and seen some of the color flood back into their face? or perhaps, more subtly, been able to keep cut flowers alive long past their purchase date?

annabelle looked at her kitchen table. she’d had the same vase of tulips on it since she moved in, three years ago. it was true they periodically started to wilt, but she usually just changed their water and they were fine, popping back up one after the other as she slid them into the fresh vase. 

“well shit,” annabelle said, letting the flier fall from her hands.

[alasnow]

Memento Mori.

The last self portrait of me before I chop all of my hair off in remembrance of Unus Annus.