Welcome to my Blog :^]
This isa sort of auto-biographical project. A space for creative writing, memoir-like vignettes, my photography, occassional (bad) poetry, olden-twitter-style spam postings, and archival content of my various past eras and lost intrnet personas,, enjoy.
I brushed my braids out. I’ve had them in for two weeks tomorrow. “Gentle, gentle” I repeat to myself. With patience and love, I worked slowly through every mat.
I am a Cherokee woman, I write. I scratch it out. I rewrite it. I add “this I know.” I scratch it all out. I add “this I know because this I feel.” I scratch it all out again.
I stood in the mirror and shed my layers of beads and metals and flowers. I thought, I am very beautiful. I scrubbed my body and all the sweaty grime crumbling off felt like little manifestations of all the fun I’m having.
I dance and dance and dance, I never have to stop!!! I stop and care for my body, and I dance some more. “Maybe I’m not disabled” I think, and I scratch it out in my head. “We’re all disabled and told not to conceptualize ourselves that way.” I think, and I keep it.
My feet ache from the days of joy I’ve had in these two weeks. I work hard not to shift my weight to the outsides of my feet, my version of tiptoe walking. I can hear a cacophony of delicious sounds in my head, echos of the magic that this weekends performers spun.
me: as a bisexual, i love and respect the history of the word and the bisexual activists that paved the way for me to experience the freedoms i do today, and identifying as bisexual is important to me because i care deeply about challenging the transphobic notion that bisexuality at some point stopped including non binary and trans people, when in fact it always has and always will include everyone, additionally i care about helping to break down the stigma fetishization and stereotypes associated with bisexuality by proudly labeling myse-
pansexual flag: *exists*
me: *sweating profusely* as a.....as a bisexual......i......uh..........as a proud bi.....sexu...al........i...
My brother and I have the sibling hivemind thing. Every bit lands, every reference comes to us at the same instance, we say things in unison, we build characters off eachother with no hesitation, I feel my most authentically silly with him. He notices the subtlest comedic things I do, and he cracks up at things I didn’t even mean to be funny, and the way that bolsters my confidence makes me all the funnier.
I thought this was a unique sibling thing until my brother met his best friend. He’s an exceptional person, I admire his freedom of expression, he has an unmatchable authenticity. My brother and him are kindred spirits, attached at the hip. My brother and him are like my brother and I but to an even greater degree. It’s beautiful to witness. And feels so special to be included in.
Then my brother found a partner who has this ability too. The ability to lock into this special world, his little world of in-jokes and bits and characters and references. His world keeps expanding as the three of them build off each other, and jokes that were references to our childhood together become group jokes. And songs that we always used to sing become songs that they do sing.
The hivemind isn’t mine anymore, it’s theirs and I get invited in from time to time. Never frequently enough, never for long enough. Every moment I’m allowed into my brother’s world feels fleeting. I’m always aware of the count down, of how quickly this safe haven of relaxed creativity will slip away.
I wonder, is this just who he is? He attracts this magic kind of person? He brings out this magic in people? I always thought this was an us thing. That we built this energy with each other. But I don’t know how to channel my half of it without him. I don’t know how to tap into the magic hivemind alone, which means I don’t know how to rebuild it with my own people either. I have friends I love, and we have our own worlds we’ve built of in jokes and references. But it’s not the same.
That special carefree creativity that I have when I’m with him, I wish I could always have. I wish I could uplift my friends the way he does his. I wish I could bring this side of me to them, and bring out this creativity in them too. I wish I had friends like his. I wish his friends could be my friends. I wish I had freedom like his. I wish his world could be my world. I wish my mind worked like his. Sometimes I just wish I were him.
i understand what it is to be so small and feel youre the only one in the world thats like you
i understand what its like to fantasize that someone like you might come find you and love you some day
thumbelina ventures into the big scary world and is tossed from scary man to scary man
to me thats what the world feels like, like the frogs are the sex industry beckoning me, the beetle is every man with privilege ive fallen for, the mole is the desire to settle for the comfort of a domestic life even if its not a man i love
"doesn't anybody care what I think????" she screams out to the world!
miss toad is the woman who's convinced herself that participating in her own fetishization is a satisfying existence. miss mouse is one of those older women that groom younger women into the system, sometimes out of bitterness and jealousy, other times because they think its the only way to protect them.
there are lots of good people too who genuinely want to help, a little french swallow in particular, hes proof there are good men in the world, good souls.
thumbelina is so full of love. i know its cliche how shes the epitome of the ingenue, and her naivety is what attracts dangerous people to her. but i get her, im like her! and the thing is, she falls for it. every time that someone calls her beautiful, compliments her voice, and promises her that her voice and beauty can get her far, she softens to them immediately and believes them. because it feels good to finally be seen and feel important, and have your talent appreciated. and people criticize this movie because shes like this,, but i feel like that too! that represents a part of me!
the worst thing about this movie is that her true love saves her. its a classic love story and classic love stories are inherently fucked up, because they convince us that one true love is a real thing, and that it will fix everything. in this case, literally grow you wings
but i hate when people criticize this movie saying that shes helpless or doesnt try hard enough. she says "im not your toots!" to the beetle every time. she constantly stands up for herself. shes just...small.
all this to say, i think thumbelina gets a bad rep for all the reasons that i think make it a real representation of trying to exist in patriarchy as a sweet and sincere, brutally isolated, little freak of nature.
When I was a teenager and they introduced orca cards (Seattle bus pass) you had to go to a specific place to purchase one and then you could load money onto it at any of the kiosks.
I moved back home 3 years ago. I don’t drive. People have informed me that I can purchase an orca card at the kiosks now. My dad even let me know while we were at a lightrail station once. They have these kiosks at bus stops now too, not just at lightrail stations. So weird.
I didn’t even realize it was happening but I was seriously struggling to adjust to the idea of purchasing an orca card differently than the way I was used to. Even when confronted with the convenience of using the kiosk right in front of my dad and I I just shrugged and said “huh that’s cool.” I didn’t even consider actually doing it.
For 3 years I’ve been using the awkward transit app and trying to flash my phone screen with the activated pass for the bus driver to see. I often forget I need to use it before the bus comes and I feel so bad getting on, and I scramble to purchase a ticket, and by the time I can show my active ticket the bus drivers eyes need to be on the road.
But two days ago, I finally did it! I used a kiosk to purchase an orca card! And at a new bus stop kiosk not a lightrail station even! It took me this long but I finally was able to embrace the changes, and I feel such a sense of relief and freedom.
Autism inflexibility is so weird because I logically know the newness can’t hurt me. I don’t even realize it’s happening in the moment, and now I sit and reflect on it and realize I genuinely took the bus less because I didn’t want to deal with buying fare through the app. What a silly illogical thing to stop me from commuting more frequently. Buying an orca card in a different way than I’m used to was just actually that scary.
But not anymore >:) now I can bus all the time >:)
I’m watching euphoria for the first time because I’m stuck in bed sick again.
Some first watch Euphoria thoughts:
I finally understand all the zendaya praise (I had only seen her in dune and was unimpressed don’t @ me)
In fact the acting in general is quite good
Rue is so fucking well written it’s a shame no one else is lmao (except Jules who’s decently good)
Actually I take that back, mckay, nate’s father, fez, and even random male side characters are actually alarmingly well written…huh…I sense a theme here…..
I love the angle of introducing each character’s childhood before each episode, and then making the themes connect, very fun
It does feel like a little bit of a cop-out sometimes tho, when it’s used to tell instead of show. Like learning that cass’s dad is a deadbeat addict who left her and thats why she’s head over heals for every guy she’s dated, it doesn’t actually really show me who she is or how she thinks. Nor does it change the stakes of her current relationship or challenge. It seems pretty consistent for most of the girls to be hardcore into whoever they’re dating, how does this backstory make it different for cass? I can make assumptions about how her new issue is impacting her, ig?Especially hearing McKay doesn’t wanna go through with it, might be impacting her differently due to her father’s abandonment. But it’s all assumptions, the show itself is giving me nothing. Nothing different than how most people would react in her shoes I mean. I’d rather be shown through metaphor or film language how this new experience connects for her to her father leaving. Instead I’m guessing, based on a 2 minute biography of her upbringing, feels like reading a wiki page and going “huh I wonder if that’s why she was sad. Idk tho cuz I think everyone would be sad to get this type of bad news. *shrugs*”
I understand the hyper-realism angle, both aesthetically and thematically, as well as to be used as a tool for breaking tension. But I don’t think it always hits, and instead makes the show somewhat of a tonal disaster at times.
The most important thing ever is this tho:
Why they have to do my girl Kat dirty like this in the costuming department!!!!!! (And lowkey the writing department in a couple ways so far, but that’s another story)
Okay listen, we’ve got a storyline about non-trafficked underage sex work, a story about over sexualizing oneself as an attempt to reclaim power within heteropatriarchy, one about men secretly adoring fat girls but then treating them invisible (or like shit) in public, about the internalized desperation for male sexual validation being x10 worse when growing up as a fat girl, and a bout how sexualizing oneself may feel like a form of power but always has a cost and becomes a strange roundabout way for the system you’re attempting to overpower to still get you…any of these storylines INDIVIDUALLY are all SO revolutionary……….TO SEE THESE ALL IN ONE CHARACTERS STORY IS UNHEARD OF AND SUCH A BLESSING
SO WHY THEY DRESSING HER IN ALL THIS TACKY FAUX LEATHER AND SCRAWNY LITTLE STRAPS AND CHEAP LITTLE CHAINS THAT WOULD FALL APART IN A DAY
WHY IS HER LIPSTICK NEVER FLATTERING AND HER EYESHADOW ALWAYS GARAGE DOOR BLUE
WHY DOES EVERYONE ELSE LOOK LIKE THEY HAVE APERSONAL MAKEUP ARTIST, AND WALK ADOUND WEARING DESIGNER, AND THE ONLY GIRL HERE WITH HER OWN DISPOSABLE INCOME IS SHOPPING AT SHEIN
oh wait I’m sorry….we know why, don’t we? I can’t believe I almost forgot….we absolutely already know the fuck why.
THE AMOUNT OF DOUJIN AND BL I GOT MY GRUBBY LITTLE MITS ON
THE FEELING OF BELONGING IN THE YAOI PANELS
THE CONVOS IVE OVERHEARD
This genuinely makes me feel hopeful for our communities, it was so wildly different than I remember artists alley being ten years ago. I’m so happy. I’m so proud of everyone for drawing their fantasies and publishing them. It’s so fucking brave and badass and makes the world a better place. I’m so inspired!!! I’m so inspired. It’s my turn next.
I wanna give my everything to my ero art. It’s so scary, when I was young I thought it would ruin my future. I was ashamed and embarrassed, I worried what my family would think. I thought what if I regret it? What if I grow out of this and change my mind? Then I can’t unring the bell? But here I am, just as passionate for ero manga as I was growing up, if not more.
I seriously think indie porn is the coolest thing ever. I think sharing fantasies through art is a revolutionary act. I think the erotic exchange between artist and reader is so adorable and wholesome. I think the ability to bring immoral fantasy to life safely on the page is absolutely magical! I think it makes the world a better place. I dont wanna hold myself back any longer. I want to dedicate myself to my erotic art. I want to jump in, all the way in. I want to jump in with both feet.
Let me back up a little. I am a collector, of cute figures and plushies and chachkis and knick knacks and of retro toys especially from the 90’s and 2000’s. I also have very vivid dreams.
I have had a reoccurring dream-type for over ten years about stumbling upon an absolute goldmine of collectibles. Sometimes I’m digging through the Goodwill bins for fun, other times I’m strolling down the street enjoying gallery walking and popping into thrifts and flea markets “just to take a look.”
As I navigate the tight corridors between vintage furniture and shelves of porcelain and jewelry, I turn a corner and BAM: wedged into a lower sort of forgotten corner of the shop, slightly faded pink and yellow and green shapes of cheap plastic, gathering dust. They’ve been cast aside by the undiscerning antique community, but I understand their true value. I take a closer look and I can’t believe my eyes, 90’s Polly Pocket compacts, gen 2 and 3 My Little Ponies, and gen 1 Littlest Pet Shops all right here waiting for me. I reach down and go to extract my newfound treasures, and it’s like the freakin scene from Spirited Away, you know, the river spirit? I pull, and an impossible amount of dreamy-level goal shattering collectibles start tumbling out of this nook in the dusty corner of this shop. Emily the Strange figures, Care Bears, Ugly Dolls, retro Sanrio, more goodies than I can possibly imagine. I open my dream Polly Compact, one that would cost me hundreds to order online, it’s a complete set; Every teeny tiny figure is somehow still in its home. I open another, they’re all like this! My eyes are welling with tears of joy. Then I wake up.
It always leaves me a little disappointed in the morning but it’s only material object, I try not to let it sting too badly.
Recently my mother had to sell her house. I say her house, not ours because I never spent more than a few years in one home growing up, and her last home least of all. I was in a rush to move out as soon as I was finished with high school. I don’t speak to my mother, so my little brother was the one to inform me there were boxes of “my” keepsakes in the basement that need to be dropped off with me. My brother was also the one to bring them over, and he did so yesterday.
I just moved so my house is already half filled with boxes. This new apartment is smaller than my last too. So you can imagine I’m not thrilled that I now have four more large boxes of shit to figure out how to store. And not just any boxes of any shit, emotionally charged nostalgia-bomb boxes! Boxes full of little moments of my childhood, my terrible, terrific, colorful, loving, smothering, suffocating childhood.
I haven’t been looking forward to this, but unpacking this first box revealed a discovery that makes everything better.
This is a fucking Littlest Pet Shop TREASURE TROVE!!!!!
Almost all of my childhood collection is in here! Not only is it in here but some of the sets are already sorted into separate bags!! There are extremely rare vintage pets in here, first generation additions with extremely limited production. I WAS LITERALLY LOOKING ON EBAY FOR HALF THESE PETS LAST WEEK AND CANT AFFORD THEM.
This feels exactly like my dreams. This is literally a dream come true. :,)
First im gonna sort them by how much I think they’re worth, then I’m gonna fact check ehehehehehe it’ll be so fun, then I’m gonna make a pile of the ones I’m keeping eeeeee I think I’ll keep close to half there are SO MANY THO FJFJFHDHD
Let me back up a little. I am a collector, of cute figures and plushies and chachkis and knick knacks and of retro toys especially from the 90’s and 2000’s. I also have very vivid dreams.
I have had a reoccurring dream-type for over ten years about stumbling upon an absolute goldmine of collectibles. Sometimes I’m digging through the Goodwill bins for fun, other times I’m strolling down the street enjoying gallery walking and popping into thrifts and flea markets “just to take a look.”
As I navigate the tight corridors between vintage furniture and shelves of porcelain and jewelry, I turn a corner and BAM: wedged into a lower sort of forgotten corner of the shop, slightly faded pink and yellow and green shapes of cheap plastic, gathering dust. They’ve been cast aside by the undiscerning antique community, but I understand their true value. I take a closer look and I can’t believe my eyes, 90’s Polly Pocket compacts, gen 2 and 3 My Little Ponies, and gen 1 Littlest Pet Shops all right here waiting for me. I reach down and go to extract my newfound treasures, and it’s like the freakin scene from Spirited Away, you know, the river spirit? I pull, and an impossible amount of dreamy-level goal shattering collectibles start tumbling out of this nook in the dusty corner of this shop. Emily the Strange figures, Care Bears, Ugly Dolls, retro Sanrio, more goodies than I can possibly imagine. I open my dream Polly Compact, one that would cost me hundreds to order online, it’s a complete set; Every teeny tiny figure is somehow still in its home. I open another, they’re all like this! My eyes are welling with tears of joy. Then I wake up.
It always leaves me a little disappointed in the morning but it’s only material object, I try not to let it sting too badly.
Recently my mother had to sell her house. I say her house, not ours because I never spent more than a few years in one home growing up, and her last home least of all. I was in a rush to move out as soon as I was finished with high school. I don’t speak to my mother, so my little brother was the one to inform me there were boxes of “my” keepsakes in the basement that need to be dropped off with me. My brother was also the one to bring them over, and he did so yesterday.
I just moved so my house is already half filled with boxes. This new apartment is smaller than my last too. So you can imagine I’m not thrilled that I now have four more large boxes of shit to figure out how to store. And not just any boxes of any shit, emotionally charged nostalgia-bomb boxes! Boxes full of little moments of my childhood, my terrible, terrific, colorful, loving, smothering, suffocating childhood.
I haven’t been looking forward to this, but unpacking this first box revealed a discovery that makes everything better.
This is a fucking Littlest Pet Shop TREASURE TROVE!!!!!
Almost all of my childhood collection is in here! Not only is it in here but some of the sets are already sorted into separate bags!! There are extremely rare vintage pets in here, first generation additions with extremely limited production. I WAS LITERALLY LOOKING ON EBAY FOR HALF THESE PETS LAST WEEK AND CANT AFFORD THEM.
This feels exactly like my dreams. This is literally a dream come true. :,)
Let me back up a little. I am a collector, of cute figures and plushies and chachkis and knick knacks and of retro toys especially from the 90’s and 2000’s. I also have very vivid dreams.
I have had a reoccurring dream-type for over ten years about stumbling upon an absolute goldmine of collectibles. Sometimes I’m digging through the Goodwill bins for fun, other times I’m strolling down the street enjoying gallery walking and popping into thrifts and flea markets “just to take a look.”
As I navigate the tight corridors between vintage furniture and shelves of porcelain and jewelry, I turn a corner and BAM: wedged into a lower sort of forgotten corner of the shop, slightly faded pink and yellow and green shapes of cheap plastic, gathering dust. They’ve been cast aside by the undiscerning antique community, but I understand their true value. I take a closer look and I can’t believe my eyes, 90’s Polly Pocket compacts, gen 2 and 3 My Little Ponies, and gen 1 Littlest Pet Shops all right here waiting for me. I reach down and go to extract my newfound treasures, and it’s like the freakin scene from Spirited Away, you know, the river spirit? I pull, and an impossible amount of dreamy-level goal shattering collectibles start tumbling out of this nook in the dusty corner of this shop. Emily the Strange figures, Care Bears, Ugly Dolls, retro Sanrio, more goodies than I can possibly imagine. I open my dream Polly Compact, one that would cost me hundreds to order online, it’s a complete set; Every teeny tiny figure is somehow still in its home. I open another, they’re all like this! My eyes are welling with tears of joy. Then I wake up.
It always leaves me a little disappointed in the morning but it’s only material object, I try not to let it sting too badly.
Recently my mother had to sell her house. I say her house, not ours because I never spent more than a few years in one home growing up, and her last home least of all. I was in a rush to move out as soon as I was finished with high school. I don’t speak to my mother, so my little brother was the one to inform me there were boxes of “my” keepsakes in the basement that need to be dropped off with me. My brother was also the one to bring them over, and he did so yesterday.
I just moved so my house is already half filled with boxes. This new apartment is smaller than my last too. So you can imagine I’m not thrilled that I now have four more large boxes of shit to figure out how to store. And not just any boxes of any shit, emotionally charged nostalgia-bomb boxes! Boxes full of little moments of my childhood, my terrible, terrific, colorful, loving, smothering, suffocating childhood.
I haven’t been looking forward to this, but unpacking this first box revealed a discovery that makes everything better.
This is a fucking Littlest Pet Shop TREASURE TROVE!!!!!
Almost all of my childhood collection is in here! Not only is it in here but some of the sets are already sorted into separate bags!! There are extremely rare vintage pets in here, first generation additions with extremely limited production. I WAS LITERALLY LOOKING ON EBAY FOR HALF THESE PETS LAST WEEK AND CANT AFFORD THEM.
This feels exactly like my dreams. This is literally a dream come true. :,)
