Me when Harry comes out the other side kinder, gentler, more understanding, a better father/brother/friend, surrounded by community, wanting to live, doing his best:
wallacepolsom

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Stranger Things

izzy's playlists!

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sheepfilms

★
Jules of Nature

shark vs the universe
Mike Driver
Xuebing Du

JVL

PR's Tumblrdome
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Janaina Medeiros
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🪼
will byers stan first human second
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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@starlitreading
Me when Harry comes out the other side kinder, gentler, more understanding, a better father/brother/friend, surrounded by community, wanting to live, doing his best:
love my downward spiral :) #myspiral #descending
#descending
#descending
#descending
#descending
#descending
#descending
i live in a hayloft now btw and i have my banjo with me and life is alright.
and tomorrow i will be joining a team of unlikely adventurers to kill some guy named strahd? idk but im in it for the craic
Recently managed to activate the most amazing infodump trap card.
I was driving through Vermont with a friend, and we pulled over at a tiny shop offering Maple Items. We were on the state highway, not the interstate, so "pulling over" meant "squeezing my tiny car into a parking bay the size of a broad highway shoulder."
As we got out of the car, an older woman emerged from behind the building where she had been pruning her roses. She introduced herself as Tammy.
Her shop offered the promised variety of Maple, but also a number of small antiques and a plethora of dog figurines, plaques, and clearly-hand-stitched garden flags.
A huge purple ribbon hung on the wall behind the register, along with many pictures of small dogs. This was no county fair ribbon. It was the size of my torso. The material had the soft sheen of actual silk.
As I placed my purchases on the counter, I asked, "Do you... Breed dogs?"
Yes. She does. She has bred Yorkies for the last 40 years. Her mother bred Yorkies before her. The purple ribbon was from her national championship winning Yorkie.
You may be expecting that the infodump was going to be about Yorkies.
It was not.
It was about 40 years of drama in the Yorkie breeding community. Where – you must understand – the judging at shows is often about who you're in with, not about the dogs. This is especially true when Tammy's opponents win anything.
And Tammy's mother! Well. Phyllis has been on the Yorkie scene since Yorkies were invented. Because of this, many women of equally venerable age hold deep grudges against Phyllis. The sort of grudges that result in episodes of Midsommar Murders.
This led to deep injustices against Phyllis on the part of judges and prevented her dogs from winning so often she retired from the scene. Judging is all about who you're friends with, after all.
After 20 years in hiding, Phyllis – the One True Queen of Yorkie Breeding – hatched a plot. She may have been out of the show circuit, but she was still breeding dogs. She entered an absolutely perfect bitch in the national competition, but sent her with a handler rather than go in person.
None of the usurpers knew who this dog belonged to, and in dog-breeding circles this Does Not Happen. This could have resulted in further injustices, but Phyllis was crafty. She knew this tournament was being judged by a man from the UK, who knew naught of the drama in the US Yorkie Empire.
With these advantages – and being the best dog there – Phyllis's bitch won the highest honor at the show.
Incensed by this insult to their ill-gotten supremacy, the other owners descended on the handler after the show, demanding to know for whom he was working.
"Phyllis," said he.
The name of the overthrown queen evoked horror in the usurpers.
"PHYLLIS!? She's still ALIVE!???"
Yes, Phyllis yet lived, and this bitch – the dog, not the woman – went on to mother Tammy's current dogs. One of whom, Lucy-Fur, is the reincarnation of Tammy's sister (also Lucy). This is certain for two reasons.
Firstly, Sister Lucy absolutely went straight to Hell upon her death, and Lucy-Fur the dog is positively as evil as Sister Lucy was.
Secondly, Sister Lucy always said when she died she wanted to come back as one of Phyllis's dogs because "mom treated the dogs better than us."
Catch me being a modern-day cyberpirate screaming up alongside you on the 405 in my mad max car with half a bitcoin farm's worth of RAM in the backseat as I hack your Bitchless Towyota™ device and steal the boat you're towing right off the back bumper of the tesla your dad bought you
As i roar into the sunset you have to swerve* to avoid the small flotilla of hacked Towyota devices trailing behind me
(*in fact you do not swerve because you're on hands-free driving to go along with your hitch-free towing so you can only watch helplessly as your tesla mistakes your stolen booty for a small child and accelerates crashing into it and killing you instantly)
Me golf commentating: These are evil, evil men... they have done wicked deeds to be here today. There are no winners today-- Beautiful drive there. Right onto the fairway.
problematic sudoku solving skills gap
Comic #355 : Chronic pain is isolating - Website links here ~ Here's a comic for the spoonies, the suffering and the lonesome. Let's take ibuprofen together 🐻💊 That's right it's a double length comic! I had a lot to say that wouldn't fit in 4 panels 🥲
Going quietly insane again about the ways that Cordelia completely defines the narrative of Brothers in Arms, without ever setting foot on the page.
The fact that everything Miles does in that book is a response to the ethics his mother taught him, and the way those ethics completely blindside Galen, because Galen thinks of Miles as Aral Vorkosigan's son, and not as Cordelia Naismith's son. The way that Galen came to prepared for a fight against the ruthless militaristic opponent that he imagines Aral to be, and never for a second imagined that his enemy would look at the weapon he had purchased and honed for this purpose and say:
That's my baby brother and if I don't get him out of this my mum is gonna kill me.
Gideon the Ninth: Narrator who doesn’t know about Space Politics because she’s too busy thinking about boobs and swords
Murderbot: Narrator who doesn’t know about Space Politics because that’s boring human bullshit and why would it care
Dungeon Crawler Carl: Narrator who doesn’t know about Space Politics because he literally just learned about the existence of such a thing and is being drip fed information that makes very little sense
Predictions for Dungeons & Dragons under Hasbro's management in the coming years:
Uma Musume style horsegirls introduced to the Forgotten Realms; setting's lore revised so that they've always been there.
Advancement rules now stipulate per-session XP bonus based on lifetime D&D Beyond purchase history.
Compendium of exclusive feat trees for specific gender and sexual identities. Bisexuality receives no feats of its own, being mechanically implemented as "half gay"; the resulting synergies are disgusting.
Editorial error in revised Dungeon Master's Guide accidentally refers to Dungeon Masters as Hasbro's employees.
"Noble savage" coding of barbarian class walked back, refocused on European folkloric touchstones such as the Ulster Cycle; all barbarian characters become Irish stereotypes.
AI-based DM service trained exclusively on work of Ed Greenwood launched; withdrawn a week later citing "guiderail issues".
Expanded discussion of navigating player expectations frames "not showing up at all" as a valid playstyle.
Dragon-blooded sorcerer subclass revised to state that one of the character's ancestors was "very good friends" with a dragon.
Didn't that last one actually get implemented into canon?
Hasbro has indeed spent the last several years pushing back against dragonfucking jokes so hard that they've gone as far as to revise some of the setting lore to imply that dragons don't even fuck each other, but they haven't yet had the guts to pull the trigger on taking the option of literal dragon ancestry off the table for sorcerers.
(The 5.5E writeup for dragon-blooded sorcerers does list "making a bargain" with a dragon above the actual-ancestry option, though, which is funny as hell. Yeah, I'll bet it was a mutually beneficial exchange!)
A lot of criticism of delivery apps focuses on the fact that they offer convenience and variety, which I find much less compelling than criticizing the fact that the apps often send their contractors on fetch quests from Hell.
There are real labor problems here. Base pay is often insulting. Customer tips carry too much of the burden. Workers need better protections, more transparent algorithms, protection from arbitrary deactivation, and actual recourse when the app or a customer screws them over. Car-dependent delivery is also an environmental and infrastructural problem, though in a denser city I’d still be doing this work; I’d just be doing it by bike.
But when people talk about delivery work, I rarely see them talk to actual delivery workers. I see a lot of abstract arguments about convenience, consumer decadence, “hustle culture,” and internalized neoliberalism. Meanwhile, when I’m out working and waiting in restaurants for orders, the other Dashers I meet are usually people who only speak Spanish, people who read as neurodivergent, visibly physically disabled people, or some combination of the above.
I have not met this mythical Disco Elysium poor ultraliberal hustlegrinder-wannabe people seem to be arguing with. Maybe that archetype exists somewhere. If it exists among any kind of gig worker, it would probably be rideshare drivers. But most of what I see looks less like “rise and grind” and more like “this is one of the few forms of work available to people who need flexibility, low barriers to entry, limited managerial surveillance, or a way to work around language barriers, disability, burnout, chronic illnesses and injuries with symptoms that come and go unpredictably, caregiving, résumé gaps, or discrimination.”
That does not make the current system good. It means the current system is filling a real gap that a lot of supposedly better systems do not even acknowledge.
As a disabled person who is burnout-prone and demand-sensitive, contracting as a delivery driver has given me an unprecedented level of financial flexibility. I can work when I have capacity. I can stop when I’m deteriorating. I can build my day around my actual body instead of being trapped under a manager who thinks “reliable” means “able to perform the same way every day no matter what.” That matters. It does not cancel out the exploitation, but it is also not fake just because it is politically inconvenient.
And delivery itself is not some inherently decadent evil. Sometimes people live alone. Sometimes they are sick. Sometimes they are disabled, exhausted, overwhelmed, grieving, overloaded, or recovering from something else - perhaps the stress and fatigue induced by their own job. Sometimes they need medicine, groceries, or a meal that will actually unplug their sinuses instead of whatever generic community-care slop someone thinks they should be grateful for. Humans are allowed to need specificity. “Food” is not the same as “the food I can actually eat right now.”
A serious labor critique would ask how to make delivery work safer, better-paid, less tip-dependent, less car-dependent, less algorithmically punitive, and less precarious. It would ask what kinds of flexible, accessible work should exist for people who cannot thrive in conventional employment. It would ask how cities could support bike delivery, worker cooperatives, public infrastructure, and real protections without simply replacing one bad system with a moral sermon about how nobody should ever want takeout.
But a lot of the discourse does not do that. It treats convenience itself as suspicious. It treats wanting flexible work as false consciousness. It treats the needs of disabled people, immigrants, and other people who can't fit into traditional employment structures as details to be swept aside in favor of a cleaner political image.
I guess the opinions of delivery workers only count when they are politically convenient.
the worst thing about those fancy pears is that you think “there’s no way a pear could be worth that much” but if you actually make the mistake of tasting one you will be forced to confront the fact that what you thought was pleasure is but a shadow of a shadow and there is a world out there more real than real that your senses have been waiting for, where the colors are richer and the water is wetter and sleep is refreshing. and you’re not invited.
if you are ever offered a bite of one of these do not take it because you will live the rest of your life unsatisfied by sensory pleasures
Dahling you simply must read this book! It’s all about this devious little caterpillar who simply gorges himself on all manner of divine things
no-dopamine baddies approaching every single list of tasks like "which of these things will cause the most amount of personal suffering to me if left undone"
guess who just read yet another list of "tools to combat decision paralysis" that was mostly reward-based and got mad
hey this is really insightful. do you have any advice about identifying the linchpin task? i mean obviously "think about it really hard" might be all there is to it. basically i think this concept is good and would welcome more commentary from you, if you have more to add
the trouble is that Thinking (or at least applying the Talking Brain to the task) is counterproductive here, because that's the voice going "we need to clean the kitchen, why aren't we cleaning the kitchen??" and in these circumstances, giving that sector of the mind more oversight won't help.
it is necessary instead to sit down and kinda try and quiet that voice, and then start with considering my physical needs, kinda mentally run through the maslow's pyramid from bottom to top as if I'm dealing with a little kid throwing a tantrum. like, did we sleep last night? have we had lunch? am I lonely? should I call my aunt? do I want to finish the book I've been reading? do I want to boil chicken bones today? what's bothering me? I'll then try out a couple of things that seem likely and while they may not be The Thing it's useful to build momentum anyways.
but like, if I give it space, the answer will float upwards into view and it's usually something I've been putting off for a long-ass time.
and it'll sound So Stupid to the Talking Mind, who has important tasks that it's trying to get done, but we're going to tell that voice that the kitchen will wait while we take down the Christmas tree, fold the laundry that's been in the basket for a week, sketch the idea, call my aunt, whatever it is, and inevitably the Linchpin Task will take about half an hour, and once it's done I can feel the weight lifted off my shoulders.
Linchpin Tasks are sometimes that it's time to deal with The Emotions At The Bottom Of The Pile, which is when a pile of stuff builds up to cover whatever is at the bottom being emotionally fraught. (letters, the shirt I wore the day my grandpa died, y'know, The Emotions)
I've gotten better at identifying when those piles are starting to accrete and dealing with them before they get bad, but like, you gotta be able to identify the pile of stuff your eyeballs keep slipping off because it feels too emotionally difficult to deal with right now, and like, learning to ignore the part of the mind that wants to assign task priority levels is a counter-intuitive way to get things done.
I hope this makes sense. basically, when it comes to doing stuff, do the thing that's most emotionally fraught first, especially if you can come up with a bunch of excuses to not do it.
*doom music starts to play* I actually kindof like scheduling these kinds of appointments now...
but seriously Fellas, don't forget to schedule a pap smear every couple of years just in case. If you still have a cervix you can still get cervical cancer. ilu
this has been a psa
i've had this as an idea since 2017 btw
damn, tumblr says my art is ass and trans people is eye strain so no blaze for me :\
it'd be a shame if this...
blazed the old fashion way...
thanks @catoperated
one of the reasons why Columbo is so funny is because he will get on his suspect's nerves sooo badly and then the suspect cannot do anything about it because Columbo will go "I'm just a little guy and it's my birthday! I'm just a little birthday boy!" with the suspect and Columbo both knowing full well that Columbo is lying but the suspect cannot say a word about it not being Columbo's birthday due to the social conventions surrounding them and the fact that they are indeed guilty of murder