So. It's been a while, hasn't it?
As I'm sure you know, managing multiple art accounts is. really hard, actually, and this has made me depreciate a lot of places I've previously said to spread out to. whoops!
Not to worry, because I plan to use this place more often than Twitter, after I cut down on that place and Focus. you know how it is
i'll be doing a sort of "spring cleaning" and deleting some art i'm not proud of to get into that jive.
toodles! for now...
I was listening to my old project files recently and I realized that this sub-melody (?) is pretty hard to hear in the final version because of the time stretching and reverb of everything else.
well uhh. this is pretty dead LOL
you should follow me on other sites! that i'm more active on (though you'll find me mostly on friendgroups since i'm a bit private)
the sad thing about the episode where squidward teaches an art class is that spongebob receives greater recognition despite having no creative vision. his work is technically impressive, but his otherwise powerful imagination fails him, and thus he churns out derivative slop. the thomas kincaid of the sea.
perhaps it is inevitable that a young man who views minimum wage toil as A Calling would, without even realizing it, fall prey to reactionary narratives of what makes art "great." spongebob would be the perfect fascist subject - but a fascist state, ironically, could never accept him, since he is effeminate and physically weak
šø From One Motherās Heart ā Please Read šø
My name is Saja. Iām a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow ā from her first smile to her first steps ā surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.
But life had other plans.
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War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.
There was a moment ā a fragile, breathless moment ā when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark ā hiding, holding on, praying.
Iām writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.
Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.
This is my life.
This is my daughterās life.
And even now ā especially now ā I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.
Why Iām Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.
Thatās why I keep going.
Iāve launched a campaign to ask for help ā not because itās easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.
How You Can Help: š¤ Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity š¤ Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources š¤ Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war
š If you can, please support our journey here:
My name is Saja. I am a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza trying to hold on ā to hope, to my family, and to a life that no
If you canāt give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.
From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe youāve never lived through war. But if youāve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them ā then you understand more than you know.
I donāt want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.
Please, if youāve read this far ā thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like itās a lifeline.
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