Good news! It gets worse!
I think it's the galactic orbit thing that really did me in

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@puzzledshrike
Good news! It gets worse!
I think it's the galactic orbit thing that really did me in
ur twenties are for seeing how many mistakes u can make in the shortest amount of time possible and getting a cool haircut
"Dont drink coffee after 2 PM" is such a neurotypical issue that sounds made up. Such a thing couldnt happen to me, ADHD Georg, who has coffee past 9:30 PM and can still fall asleep freely because I have a natural toxicity resistance to caffeine.
"OooOooOoOh I cant haev cofee so late otherwise I'll be up all night" sounds like a skill issue
Depression is such an effective tranquilizer that it creates a great opportunity for plot twists in your real life. I have a pretty consistent opinion of myself which is "low" and "never ending guilt and shame for reasons I don't understand."
Recently received feedback from two different editing clients that started with "Please pass along to Jacquelynn that she is phenomenal at her job" and "I was blown away by the evaluation I received."
You always hear about how depression (and anxiety) lies to you and distorts reality, but there is logically knowing that and then there is like, physical proof of it and you are suddenly Neo in the Matrix jumping out of the fucked up little tube machine.
Look, medication and therapy are essential, but I think we shouldn't underestimate this form of treatment
(Source)
every so often i remember how fucking buckshit whacked out Homestuck actually is. Every single character, no matter how charming and endearing they seem, is a loser. The author is a character within the story, who is killed halfway through and the job of writing the story is taken over by the story's villain. Said villain is so misogynist that he wants to destroy the whole universe. Every single character dies, at least once, the only exception being a random background NPC who delivers mail. The entire plot is a vehicle to get one creepy ventriloquist dummy from point A to point B. The ICP is there too.
Me, calling in to my shift supervisor: Gooooooood morning! Are we ready for another super splendiferous day with the public?! đ
Her: That is too much energy
Me: It iiiiiis fake!! đ
Her: Still too much energy
Did you just know this
Something I randomly think about a lot is how when very old castles, manors, and large country estates were built, they were built with the expectation of guests. In eras when you rarely travelled over a hundred miles from home, when one did travel guests stayed for long periods of time with friends and relatives. Wealthy people would have guests in their home frequently (virtually all the time, if you were royalty), so huge houses (and staffs) accommodated for multiple guests on long stays. More homes were multi-generational, too.
And now when people live in big houses itâs usually just themselves. Maybe 4-6 in a family, and when the kids get married and move away? Maybe only 1 or two. Guests rarely âsleep over,â and almost never longer than a weekend. I donât know exactly what caused the cultural shift, but it fascinates me.
Every time I read an old book and some young person âvisits a friend in the countrysideâ for weeks or months I get emotional. Imagine if your friends had the resources to host you at their house for that long. And you would live there very like if it was your own home. Nowadays even if you do stay with friends or family, thereâs usually events or activities intended to fill the time. Suppose if you just went to visit your friend for a month, and the two of you just read books or took walks together.
Crying a little
I was debating pre- and post- smartphone existentialism with an older gentleman today and he stopped part way through and said âWhy are you a security guard? Why arenât you teaching this at some college somewhere?â And I didnât know what to say so I went with âWell I used to make art but nobody pays an artistâ
I want to invoke thought and wonder and introspection and encourage the passions of every soul I meet forever and ever and dig until I find the glorious potential for creation and experience and joy in every single one but unfortunately I must pay rent and so I stand, a meat shield, an NPC with unlockable dialogue
#capitalism brain tells you that anyone interesting must fight to the top of their interest#and precludes the possibility of everyone everyone everyone already being interesting
honestly the human brain is so small that you *will* forget how much beauty there is out there to experience unless you leave your house every three days. ik its fucked up but i promise its true
my brain, trying to deceive me: there's literally nothing outside!!!!! it's the same neighborhood it's always been !!!!!
me, tying my shoes: shut up shut up!!!! by god we're gonna try to find magic in mundane today !!!!
ok iâm interested. what non-necessity do you buy whenever you get the chance? like whatâs something you love that you always feel you need more of? mine are phone cases and stuffed animals.
itâs funny when my friends who arenât on tumblr send me tumblr posts from other sites cause their either an extremely popular post that iâve seen 20 times on my dash in the last day or like. the childrenâs hospital post. donât get me wrong i still appreciate their gifts but itâs like. thank you for foraging these berries for me unfortunately i live in the bush
like there comes a point where you think something is fundamentally wrong with you. and then it turns out itâs just Friday and you havenât washed your hair in three days and maybe youâre also just a little lonely and the combination of all three of those things is whittling a hole into your chest every time you breathe. but also the sunâs up. and youâve survived everything so far, so youâll survive this too, even if it hurts, even if you have to survive it many times.
if we all spent just six hours a day working on some kind of complex tapestry in contemplative silence nobody would have the problems they currently have
we would have entirely NEW problems. the tapestry discourse would be intense
itâs always the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, but never the Irritating Ordeal of Being Known
someone: [correctly infers something about my personality based on my patterns of behavior]
me: [seethes with rage for some fucking reason]