#sop2021

[wearemidboss]

Season of Pride is here!

June has passed, but that doesn't mean that Pride is over! The month-long streaming event, Season of Pride 2021 is kicking off today! Every day starting on July 1st to the 31st, from 9am Pacific to Midnight, you can tune in to SeasonOfPride.tv and watch a myriad of LGBTQIA+ streamers, games, and participate in game giveaways. We're also supporting three fantastic charities this year: Trans Lifeline, The Trevor Project, and GaymerX. If you're in the position to, you can help out and donate to any one of these by following their respective links here, or going to the SeasonOfPride.tv site! And that's that. So head on over to SeasonOfPride.tv and give it a gander, we'll be here all month. Count on it!

As always, be sure to keep your augmented eyes on • our • social • media for further updates! Until next time, - MidBoss

[asenseofplaceacma-blog]

ACMA hallways P.Mcquain

Some of the best moments happen in the ACMA hallways

The hallways are crowded, small, and hectic

People push, shove, block, and run over others

Some people walk slowly, others run

People stop in the middle of the hallway and talk to their friends for a while

Every time you turn a corner you will run into someone

Sometimes you get stuck

And during lunch, there’s no space to walk

And you have to speak up to talk

But,

The hallways are filled with art that students have created

You can always find some inspiration there

In the hallways you can see what’s happening in the ACMA world

You see all of your friends and classmates

[asenseofplaceacma-blog]

A. Douglas

[asenseofplaceacma-blog]

M. Thanos and T. Masanga

[asenseofplaceacma-blog]

[asenseofplaceacma-blog]

ACMA is not One. Not one community, not one home, not one family. The idea of one is one of something, a singular thing. ACMA is not one thing, or idea, or concept. It is a system of ideas of one. If one is a home, a person may have an idea of how acma is a home to them. But another person may have another idea of how acma is home to them. So if home is a singular thing, then acma is not a home, because there are multiple ideas of home within acma. If acma is not a home, then is it still a place (which is space with meaning)? The answer to this question is yes. ACMA has meaning, just a lot of different meanings. What is ACMA then? ACMA is a place of ideas that form different meanings of community that work together to create a system that resembles a home.

C.Taylor

[asenseofplaceacma-blog]

Sense of Place 2016 By: GraceAvalon Hardin

Can you hear me? I'm screaming and shouting at you but you don't seem to hear me. I jump around and do a lot of silly things to get your attention but you don't see me. You showed affection for me for a split second, then retreated and don't plan to come back. You asked me to be yours and my heart beated yes every second but I told you I would think about it because I was technically someone else's, even though they didn't have my heart like they thought they did. You own my heart everytime you come around the corner and I can't imagine what the past 2 years would look like without you, but it wouldn't look pretty. You get mad at me for no reason. You ignore me even when I just want to make sure that you are ok. I know you go through so much but I'm here for you. Let me in. Let me heal you, like you've healed me. I can't imagine how broken I would be without you. My friends are slipping away from me and you have been there but now you're slipping away too. I'll be all alone. If you think I told someone about you asking me to be yours, I haven't told a soul. No one knows. Only you, and I. No one has to know. But I don't want you to turn around and leave me hanging on you tighter than ever. I have so many questions for you. Do you like me? Do you love me? How long have you wanted me to be yours? Why haven't you talked to me about this before? Why do emotions have to be so complicated? Why can't you and I find our happily ever after? Why does everyone have to be against us? Why are you ignoring me? Do embarrass you? Am I too much... anything for you? Can no one understand me? Can no one know what my heart beat sounds like? Why can't I answer my own questions? Why do I be so cold hearted so I don't get hurt but when someone warms it, I cling my everything to them? Most of these I can answer and I'll try my best. I don't know if you like me. I know you love me, but I think it's more like a sister or a best friend. I don't know how long you've wanted me. I don't know your reasonings just yet. Emotions have to be complicated because we are complicated. You are complicated. I'm complicated. We are all complicated. We can't find our happily ever after because that's not what you want, and for me, it's too late for me. They have always been against us, because we are so different, the "different" crowd casted us out. I don't know why you're ignoring me, probably because I did something or you have lost your courage like I have. I most likely embarrass you like I embarrass my friends, my family, and especially myself. I am most likely too much everything to you, like I am with everyone. I'm too exciting. I'm too sexual. I'm too energetic. I'm too rude. I'm too kind. I'm too loud. I'm too quiet. I'm too cold hearted. I'm too clingy. I'm too everything I touch or do. No one will understand me, not even a clone could. I will only be the person who knows what my heart beat sounds like at least for a while if not forever. I'm trying to answer my own questions. Being cold hearted is the way I've made myself so I can be numb to all the things that people do to me. My main emotions are sassy and angry. Those are the only safe ones. The warmth of someone who cares, someone I've longed to care for so long, makes my cold heart melt and the real me is there... I think. I want to have a warm heart. But the people run from the freak that wants their love. Then my heart turns dark and cold again.

 ............... I......... I'm....... I'm sorry..... I'm sorry I can't be just right..... I'm sorry I can't write as much as I want to...... I'm sorry that all I want to do is watch my life fly past me...... I'm sorry I crave the touch of someone's warmth..... I'm sorry I'm so cold hearted I'm blind to other people's emotions.... I'm sorry I'm so "smart" that I have to take a different lunch because of a high school class I take so I can't be with my friends who are growing away from me...... I'm sorry I'm a coward because of my experience of being courageous making me cry myself to sleep every night..... I'm sorry that I can't figure out who I love or even if I can love myself..... I'm sorry I can't look in the mirror and see someone that I recognize..... I'm sorry I can't be good enough for anyone...... I'm sorry Wattpad that I can't write anything worth reading anymore..... I'm sorry that my logic makes no sense and I lose people because of it..... I'm sorry that I chose to live the "sad" life of an agnostic person, going around believing nothing and everything at the same time.... I'm sorry I can't make up my mind if I want to be at my mom's house or my dad's house or at both.... I'm sorry I'm so scatter brain that I can't remember to tell my mom the important things I'm supposed to do until it's the last second.... I'm sorry I can't be a good girl scout.... I'm sorry I can't tell the people I care about the most all of this and how much I love them and rely on them even if it doesn't seem like I do.... If you're reading this and thinking, "Is this real or is Grace_Avalon making this up for a short story for my entertainment?" I'm not making this up. Everything I've said is true. I like a boy that won't like me back because we're so close, he's basically my brother. I can't decide where I'm going to live, my dad's house, my mom's house, or both at the same time. I have so many faults that no one wants to try to talk to me except the people on this and even they are slipping away. If you're reading this thinking that I have not faults and I'm making all of this up so I can get attention, I'm not. I can't tell people what I feel. No one wants to hear my voice unless it looks good, sounds good, or isn't trash. And I am trash, I can't really make things look good, I don't sound the best. I'm sorry this is over a thousand words.

 Just know that whatever your situation is at home, you can do it. Don't let yourself become a shell, don't let your heart turn dark and cold. Let your heart be the thing that people want to surround themselves with. Let you be the things that make the cold hearted people like me want to be with you so they can be warm too. Show who you are no matter what happens. Don't rely on people, but be someone who people can rely on. Don't fake those smiles or laughs. Let every smile be as real as it gets. Let those tears come. Hug people, it helps. Let out your emotions. Do the things you love. Don't let those haters pull you down. Basically, don't follow my example. Thanks for reading all of this and supporting me through it all. You get the medal for helping me feel better and you should be proud you made someone's night. You reading to this point has made my heart feel warmer. You reading this far makes happy tears come instead of sad. You reading this can save my life. And I love you for that. Thank you. Thank you... So much

[asenseofplaceacma-blog]

I first stepped into these halls

Before I knew what life was.

I wore white

And looked with eyes of baby blue,

Myself just a child.

I was shackled, wrists and ankles bound in chains

That led back to the place I thought was a Great School,

Elementary.

That day was cold,

February snowstorms brewing in the clouds

I stepped up the steps

And tried to ignore the gum frozen to the cement

And tried to ignore the smell from the bathroom

Which I couldn’t have known as marijuana.

So I walked through these halls

And closed my eyes

And I tried.

To pretend.

It was what I’d imagined.

Soon I opened my eyes.

And I accepted that reality is cold

And colder in a school with no air conditioning.

I’ve seen many things in these halls.

I’ve seen people overjoyed,

And I’ve seen them destroyed.

I’ve watched them grow up and dye their hair dark

To hide behind

When their problems need to shroud themselves in darkness.

I’ve seen cuts underneath slivers of sleeves

Before I knew they were self-inflicted

I’ve seen unexplained bruises before

I knew a parent could hit their child

I’ve grown out of the shackles that bound me

And broken the with the weight of everything I’ve seen.

I no longer wear white

And my glasses have lost their rosy tint

And now I see the pale truth under everyone’s skin,

Running through their veins,

That we are not okay,

And we will never be okay,

And the best we’ll get is coping.

I’ve learned so much in these halls

About humans and their fears

And their joys

And their tears

And I say I hate people

But I mostly hate that I can’t help them all.

In these halls I’ve heard cries for help

Disguised as muttered chit-chat,

But what eloquent chit-chat it is

I’ve seen desperation in brush-strokes

Flung across a gaping, blank canvas,

And I’ve wished I could grab that person’s shoulders and shake them and tell them,

You are beautiful you are talented you are amazing you take my breath away, please don’t hurt yourself, please, please, please- But as I open my mouth I realize that I have no voice-

It has been stolen by the heat of the bodies surrounding me.

And I silently cry.

And I wish for power.

These halls have returned my voice

They have given me my greatest power-

The scratch of pen on paper

And words, which are just squiggles,

Can save a life

Can save my life.

These halls are my torture chamber, my prison, my hell at times,

But they are my school

And more than my school,

They ae my home.

And I couldn’t bear a world without everyone else’s pain

It’s what gives me art.

So I will stay here, in these magical, humming, chameleon halls

And I’ll never look back

And I’ll keep drawing my words on paper and hope someone needs them as much as I do.

These halls are made by artists,

And we’re about the most damaged humans,

Because it takes hurt to create beauty.

So I don’t mind being stained

By the dirt and tears

Because this place, this…wonderful place,

This is where I belong.

This is where I need to be.

These halls are empty

Without our pain,

Without our happiness

Without our art.

E.Fife-Adams