[beardedmrbean]

[coffeeandcobblestones]

I found out earlier this week that I have ninety days to figure out my whole job situation, but the woman I spoke with said that self-employment counts. So... Guess who is going to finally start her own publishing company? I've only wanted to do this since I was eleven years old. No big deal or anything. If anyone out there feels bad for not accomplishing what they think they should be doing, just tell yourself that at least you're not a slacker dinosaur like me, taking decades to achieve my goals. Also, I feel like crap that I didn't do this while my husband was alive. But baby steps, I guess. Now, who wants to be a published author?

[dduane]

[kiramartinauthor]

WHY YOU SHOULD WRITE HORRIBLY:

1. You’ll never write anything if you don’t

[artistformerlyknownasbutttrumpet]

i was training a young person at work, and she referred to sexual assault as "SA" out loud, and i immediately was like, "no, it's sexual assault, call it what it is," bc idgaf if the algorithm overlords have taught y'all that you should fear direct language, how tf do any of you expect to ever address real issues with any amount of seriousness if you can't even say the words? imagine an advocate looking a sexual assault survivor in the eyes and asking "did he grape you?" it's absolutely fucking absurd, but these young interns and new hires are coming into an environment where we deal with survivors of all different kinds of abuse, and they're coming with the mindset that the words are as bad as the actions, and that makes them shitty at the job and look juvenile af

i HATE self-censorship for a lot of reasons, but being in crisis work makes it even more frustrating. who are you censoring for? like i am being so fr, WHO are you censoring for? have you even thought it through? people who have been raped know that they have been raped. if someone attempts suicide or is grieving someone who did, saying "sewer slide" isn't going to protect them from any of the feelings. a murder victim's family isn't going to feel better bc you said "unalived" instead of murdered. if anything, it's just extremely invalidating and othering. it's saying "what happened to you is so bad that i won't even say the word," which is NOT trauma-informed care. you are not protecting survivors/victims when you self-censor. the ONLY things you protect when you self-censor are the puritanical ideologies that are being encouraged by rich fascists who want your money and obedience

say the fucking words, guys. just say the goddamn words before i go insane!!!

[coffeepeople]

One time a friend told me that if she wanted to have a chill night she would come to me and ask for tea and a book to read. I didn’t like tea at the time, but I always made sure my cupboards had them in case she needed a quiet night. One time I told my boss that I loved oranges, but couldn’t peel them because of my nails. For a year he made sure to peel me one at least once a week. Once my friends gave me a made up superlative of “most likely to have a pen they could borrow” and ever since I’ve made sure I always carry a pen with me. A long time ago, my high school librarian told me that no one would care what my grade in my sophomore chemistry class was if I’m bringing them doughnuts and asking them about their day.

[coffeepeople]

Sometimes friendship is about carrying pens and peeling oranges. But the point is, surrounding yourself with people who you want to do the little things for. The point of it all is bringing in the doughnuts because you’ve found the people who deserve the doughnuts.

[big-smiling-monkey]

How sweet it is to be with people you enjoy taking care of

[coffeeandcobblestones]

I decided that my husband was my best friend when he went to the store and got me cranberry juice. We had only known each other about a week.

[coffeeandcobblestones]

Today, I am officially setting up my departed husband's epitaph. Every line can only be fourteen characters, and a space is a character. So 'the wheel weaves' is too long. (I was going to make it clear that I want 'as the wheel wills' on my own marker, beside his.) I cried yesterday at how frustrating that is. My husband's entire life, everything he was, encapsulated in such a tiny phrase. I'm going with 'not forgotten' because it's the tiniest way I can say so much. It's a reference to a lot of things he loved in pop culture, our entire relationship, and just life and death in general. It still doesn't feel right, but I guess I wouldn't have wanted his whole life to be relegated to a book quote, anyway.

[coffeeandcobblestones]

I feel so fucking alone.

[warbeneaththerain]

life hack. when you're feeling depressed you can listen to songs that make you feel even worse

[coffeeandcobblestones]

Every trash bag full of things we throw away is just us getting closer to not living here anymore. But I don't know where we're going or how we're going to afford living there. The bank called me today to talk about my account, since it's just mine now. Only, not officially, because I was supposed to fill out some document they didn't give me. It's too hot to make the three-mile round trip walk today, and they're closed tomorrow and Saturday. So I can't do anything until Monday. They said that's all right, and they're sorry for my loss. I hate thanking people for that. I know it's customary, but... 'I appreciate you acknowledging that my husband stopped breathing because he had multiple forms of cancer' is utter bullshit. I am not appreciative. I want him back. Fuck this nonsense.

[thirdtwin3]

"The Freshman" 04.01 (1999)

[coffeeandcobblestones]

How do I get back into writing fanfic after real life dropped me off a cliff like I'm Wile E. Coyote?

I'm genuinely asking. Someone help. Please.

[coffeeandcobblestones]

I'm on hold and stuck listening to the saddest hold music ever. We should get to listen to more popular classical music when we're stuck on hold. Put some Scott Joplin in there, or Beethoven. My estimated wait time is less than twenty minutes. Whee.

[onekisstotakewithme]

having online friends who are busy is just like. I LOVE YOU. I miss you. YOU GOT THIS. I'm giving you space to work. I LOVE YOU.

[onekisstotakewithme]

reminder to everyone i haven't talked to lately: I love you. we'll be fine. I LOVE YOU. I am waiting for you. I hope you are well. I love you.

[coffeeandcobblestones]

Grief is fucking weird. I'm doing all of the things I already did while my husband was around. But with him not being here, it just doesn't feel the same. I did laundry, went to the bank, picked up sodas from across the street. But now there's less laundry, the bank account is just mine, and we don't have Mountain Dew in here anymore. I'm putting off going to the bank today, and I should get off my butt and do that. Heat advisory starts in about three hours. I don't want to be out in it. I'm wearing one of his t-shirts. I guess it's mine now? Is it weird to be in a raging fury at myself for all of the fiction I consumed growing up, where people returned from the dead and time wound backwards, and people were reunited? Because I always knew that was never a real thing, but now it fucking hurts.

[coffeeandcobblestones]

Once again, it's been forever since I wrote something here. My husband died seventeen days ago. Fuck cancer. I have lost my other half. There are at least a dozen stories that prove that he was my other half. Still is, I suppose, but people get so touchy if you don't immediately begin past-tensing your dead spouse. But there was the time when I could only remember half of our landlord's phone number, and he could only remember the other half. Or when I wanted McDonald's all day and thought about texting or calling him to ask him to bring it home, but I didn't do that. And he came home with McDonald's. I barely listen to music anymore because every song just reminds me of him in some way. Even the things he hated listening to are somehow still "his," because he voiced an opinion on them. Riot Fest has always scheduled Taking Back Sunday on Saturdays. This year, they are finally on a Sunday, and he's not around to tell. And as stupid as that is, and how meaningless it is in the long-term, I just want him here to listen to me for another five minutes. Somehow, Father's Day didn't make me a sobbing mess, but it feels like any day I don't cry much, or at all, is immediately followed by a day when I turn into a fountain. Today is fountain day. I'm trying not to panic about what things look like for me, financially. I'm trying to get a job for the first time in about twenty years, and something looked promising yesterday, but I'm kind of terrified that I fucked up on a math test they gave me. I can't really go work in public-facing customer service right now, because I'm still bursting into tears at everything, and music being played all day in a store is not going to do me any favors.

[proof-its-not-a-dream]

i think itd be really fun if for the ides of march, tumblr made a little knife stab the likes button heart