Coffee in dystopia

'I understand HOW. I do not understand WHY.' - G. Orwell In between two generations. INTP-T. My AO3

[seabeck]

Foggy

[kaos-academic]

winter break

[flowerytale]

Daphne du Maurier, from The Parasites

[themotherofrevelation]

“For women, only one standard of female beauty is sanctioned: the girl. The great advantage men have is that our culture allows two standards of male beauty: the boy and the man. The beauty of a boy resembles the beauty of a girl. In both sexes it is a fragile kind of beauty and flourishes naturally only in the early part of the life-cycle. Happily, men are able to accept themselves under another standard of good looks — heavier, rougher, more thickly built. A man does not grieve when he loses the smooth, unlined, hairless skin of a boy. For he has only exchanged one form of attractiveness for another: the darker skin of a man’s face, roughened by daily shaving, showing the marks of emotion and the normal lines of age. There is no equivalent of this second standard for women. The single standard of beauty for women dictates that they must go on having clear skin. Every wrinkle, every line, every gray hair, is a defeat. No wonder that no boy minds becoming a man, while even the passage from girlhood to early womanhood is experienced by many women as their downfall, for all women are trained to continue wanting to look like girls.”

— Susan Sontag, “The Double Standard of Aging”

[austeregreen]

Yes, it's my birthday.

[optionalcausality]

A cat meows at another, voice carrying through the cracked-open window and crossing the street to the other cat's ears. They are distantly companionable; they may never smell one another's scent, but they recognize each other's presence. They meow back and forth, some days, and are entertained, and that is enough.

These cats have humans to reside with. Sometimes one of the humans will go online and post bad jokes, and three houses over another human sees it on their brightly glowing phone screen and reblogs it. These humans work at different times, they spend their leisure hours apart, and they have social circles that never quite overlap enough for them to actually be introduced.

The joke is shared at a family gathering. Later, is passed along by a younger cousin, and briefly appreciated by a fraction of Ms. Vue's fifth grade class. Where it goes from there is hard to say. But it was enjoyed at the time, which was enough.

Neither the cats nor the original two humans have lost anything, in this world where each pair remains merely a part of the background in the other pair's lives. They enrich one another in the small and mundane moments that gradually accrue into a lifetime. Eventually there will be other humans in those dwellings, and other cats. The bad jokes will still be shared, but not always by the same people, and not forever.

For now, though, one cat is calling to the other, and the response comes back on the wind. I'm here I'm here A human replies to a post that crosses their dash; : I'm here I'm here.

And their lives are better for it.

And that will have to be enough. And it is.

[trb752]

[austeregreen]

Source: https://doradorapuff.tumblr.com/

Painting: 'Love Slowly Kills' by Adrian Borda

[austeregreen]

I want some pizza now.

Source: pinterest

[aftonfamilyvalues]

i think long term relationships in your teens and early 20s is so damaging for girls. like i dont feel like these girls are really growing to be their own people but rather to accommodate their boyfriends plans and futures. they start giving up opportunities and changing plans in order to be near their boyfriends and keep that relationship going. they skip out on great colleges, chances to study abroad, great jobs, moves that would be better for them, all sorts of new experiences, just for a boy who would likely never do the same for her. its so stunting and its sad how often ive seen it happen

[a-l-ancien-regime]

[flowerytale]

Franciszek Żmurko (1859–1910), Morning star (detail)

[austeregreen]

Sometimes I've a problem with imagining people outside of my interaction with them. Like a child, surprised when it learns for the first time that teachers indeed don't live at school.

There is a small cosmos in every person - their experiences, and hobbies, and fears, and every little thought that make them a real, living human being.

And yet, often when I think of them I see cardboard cut-outs, unable to exist expect of the situations when I am interacting with them. Yesterday it blow my mind when I realised that there are some big part of my family and friends lives and experiences which always will be unavailable to me.

I care about them. I love them. I worry about them. Why is it so hard to see them as real people.

[funnytwittertweets]

[chavisory]

[Tweet by Gillian Branstetter reads “If enforcing gender norms requires a constant state of surveillance and censorship then they probably aren’t as biological or innate as you think they are]

[fairydrowning]

The older I get the more I understand why old people sit outside and enjoy watching the world go by.

[austeregreen]

I like to think that I am neither a protagonist nor an antagonist of the story. That no external force compels me to be heroic or villainous. That I am this secondary, morally ambiguous, flawed character with small but stable group of fans who hate to love me and love to hate me and are always there for me, no matter where the plot brings me.

[austeregreen]

Today's mood.

[joliemutt-deactivated20240109]