when i was younger i used to make up code names for the boys i liked by taking the number of letters from their first and last name and mashing them together to make a two digit number. and then i would write i <3 ## everywhere (trees, notebooks, etc.). well for the longest time i liked this guy nathan so that’s 6 letters and his last name had 9 letters so let’s just say in 5th-6th grade i unknowingly wrote i <3 69 everywhere.
What Off can teach you...
An ill temper does not necessarily mean ill intentions.
Good intentions are not always appreciated.
Appreciation does not always come from good outcomes.
Seemingly good outcomes are not always well-intended.
Knowledge does not exempt trust from mistakes.
“Good” and “bad” are not always white and black.
Too much safety becomes unsafe.
Apparent violence may actually be a plea for help.
The way things are now may be flawed, but there may be yet worse alternatives.
Even in the end, you can choose sides according to what you believe in.
Reasoning why you shouldn’t love someone doesn’t mean you won’t still love them.
Fear of the unknown can twist into hate against the innocent.
#Off #more like #the more you know
The Glass Delusion (psychiatric Disorder)
The glass delusion was an external manifestation of a psychiatric disorder recorded in Europe in the late 15th to 17th centuries. People feared that they were made of glass “and therefore likely to shatter into pieces”. One famous early sufferer was King Charles VI of France who refused to allow people to touch him, and wore reinforced clothing to protect himself from accidental “shattering”. The mother of Ludwig II of Bavaria (aka “Mad King Ludwig” was afflicted as well; she thought that when she was a little girl she swallowed a glass piano and if she sat down it would shatter inside her and kill her. A 1561 account reported a sufferer “who had to relieve himself standing up, fearing that if he sat down his buttocks would shatter… The man concerned was a glass-maker from the Parisian suburb of Saint Germain, who constantly applied a small cushion to his buttocks, even when standing. He was cured of this obsession by a severe thrashing from the doctor, who told him that his pain emanated from buttocks of flesh, not glass.” Concentration of the glass delusion among the wealthy and educated classes allowed modern scholars to associate it with a wider and better described disorder of scholar’s melancholy.
Photo is of two sculptures by Karen Lamonte
Here is a more detailed description of what Chibi Romano actually suffered from in accordance to canon and with actual medical research. (by fanfiction member Tawariell Saerwen)
Chibi Romano suffered from Chorea, or specifically Sydenham’s chorea. It is also known as St. Vitus Dance, named after the Saint who also was afflicted by this disorder. This is a symptom that develops after a patient has suffered from acute rheumatic fever. Rheumatic fever is caused by a Streptoccocus pyogenes infection, or in layman’s terms, strep throat. Strep infections are treatable with antibiotics; patients who deny antibiotics end up developing rheumatic fever or worse – Necrotizing fasciitis, also known as flesh-eating disease. If a patient has a high temperature, they’re at risk of developing rheumatic fever. If a patient has the chills and can’t warm up, they’re at risk of developing flesh-eating disease.
During the Renaissance, there was no medicine to cure diseases. Germs had not been discovered and cleanliness in Europe was poor. If somebody were ill, it was usually believed to be the cause of demon possession or simply God’s Will. So, in this case, how could Chibi Romano have survived after suffering from acute rheumatic fever? The answer would be his immune system and natural selection. His immune system would have to been very strong and resistant toward the bacterial infection and going into overdrive to beat the disease. Because of this, his central nervous system would end up becoming chemically over stimulated and his limbs would begin to involuntarily jerk and twitch, thus developing symptoms of Sydenham’s chorea, the cause of his clumsiness.
The good news is that Sydenham’s chorea eventually clears up on its own and is treatable and curable through physical therapy. So with accordance to canon, dancing the Tarantella cured Chibi Romano’s chorea symptoms.
The bad news is that, unfortunately, Chibi Romano would have developed permanent damage to his body such as carditis (inflammation of the heart) and Rheumatoid arthritis (inflammation of the joints) after surviving from acute rheumatic fever.
Pro-Tip: Model Minority is neither a compliment nor something to revel in.
The creation of the “Model Minority” stereotype was promulgated by white supremacist power structures (including xenophobic immigration laws).
It was meant to divide Asian Americans from other POC, particularly from Black folks, and still keep us as an ‘other’ while using us as a weapon against other POC. It is a tool that marginalizes our own narratives and realities and shits on people within Asian American communities as well.
It’s divisive, damaging, and a perpetuation of racist power structures that were unsettled by the prospects of militant POC organizing and standing together against white supremacy and structural racism.
This blog does not support reveling in model minority (aka anti-Black, white supremacist endearing) speech, actions, or bullshit.
Last night’s spontaneous dinner with my best gays didn’t come with a warning label.
Their words were have you had dinner? Come over: we made lots.
Their words were not we’ll be serving it with a side of paramedic stories and heart-attack scares.
In their dining room, a glass of wine is placed in my hand and their story begins like most of them do: evening at the theater the previous night followed by a late dinner delivered to their apartment.
Except 10 minutes into that meal, Gayson’s boyfriend started experiencing chest pains.
He barely made it to the bathroom in time.
So I was on the tile floor—vomiting—and I thought of you, Tré. And Alberto. And Gayson.
I kicked open the bathroom door and told Gayson to dial 911.
Thank God. Then what?
The paramedics were here in two minutes.
They storm in with a gurney and a hundred machines. Laid me on the bed to take my blood pressure, which was sky-high.
They tell me to take off my shirt for an EKG. When I warn them that I’m a hairy guy, one of the EMTs launches into that showtune from ‘Hair’—
You know the one, Gayson says. ‘She asks me why/ I’m just a hairy guy.”
Welcome to Chelsea, right? Rob laughs. After all that fussing and singing, I passed the EKG. Turns out, it was just a severe case of acid reflux.
Like Alberto thought he had, I say, haltingly. All the antacid wrappers on the counter that morning.
I know! And that’s why I didn’t think twice. I know what you’ve been through—and I don’t want Gayson to—
He stops because there’s no need to finish the sentence.
He stops because I’m now sitting on his lap crushing him with the kind of hug you give people you love who are still alive.