I think arts funding should be infinite and easily available to everyone. I think 13 year olds who only draw anime should receive funding to buy giant sets of copic markers and shitty local punk bands should receive funding for instruments and practice spaces and performance artists should receive funding for their weird and nonsensical projects
Man I hope they cancel standardized testing, any education professional can tell you it’s a bunch of useless horseshit that does nothing except make students and teachers miserable while utterly failing to accurately gauge understanding.
“why yall gotta make everything about race?”
because everything is about race. you just upset cause we’re talking about it.
clownfish be like "i know a spot" and take you to a fucking deadly sea organism
This post would’ve been a lot better if you didn’t say the f word. Grow up.
yes hello i am very sorry to hear of your lack of satisfaction. if you'll just follow me to the suggestion box its just inside here
I feel like this doesn’t even need a caption lmao
‘Oh nice BOTW haha that man’s sure walkin funn-
BRIAN??’
if they rebooted austin powers it would either be the most tone deaf unfunny incredibly offensive movie in years OR they'd do it right and really keep with the times in being very self aware and it would be one of the best films in decades. austin powers would be a massive support of trans rights because trans women means more women for him to shag
oh your pronouns are she/they? well baby lemme she/them titties shagadelic
austin powers discovers bisexuality and it blows his fucking mind
What’s the point of grinding to the bone your whole life for money if you aren’t even gonna be there to spend it…
"The less you eat, drink and buy books; the less you go to the theatre, the dance hall, the public house; the less you think, love, theorise, sing, paint, fence, etc., the more you save – the greater becomes your treasure which neither moths nor rust will devour – your capital. The less you are, the less you express your own life, the more you have, i.e., the greater is your alienated life, the greater is the store of your estranged being." -Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844
“The thing about money is, we can always make more, so let’s go out to eat tonight!” —My dad, after being laid-off, working odd and probably demeaning jobs so we could have dinner.
“Ah, baby, I want to buy this for you, it’s not like I can take the money with me when I go.” —My mom, when she bought me new clothes while I was between jobs.
“There’ll always be a job out there you can work, but we’d prefer you happy instead.” —Both my parents on jobs (“I can always get ya a job ditch diggin! They’ll always need ditch diggers. Hard work, but no college necessary. I can talk to the Hall.”—My proud, union dad, enthused, three seconds later.)
“It doesn’t matter what they do with the money after you give it to them. Drugs, beer, it doesn’t matter, maybe that’s what they need? How do you know?” —My dad on giving money to the homeless.
“Nah, we’ll never make any money, my husband has morals.” —My mom’s friend, fondly reflecting on the fact her lawyer husband isn’t working for a big money firm.
“Don’t worry! I’ve got this!” My equally poor friend buying me dinner when my debt card declined.
“I know we didn’t have furniture in the living room when you were growing up, but—ha!—remember Balloon Ball?” —My dad reflecting on the made up, mock-volleyball game we’d play in the open living room, using balloons. He had used electrical tape to make the court.
“I’m sorry we could never take you anywhere greater growing up,” —My mom, reflecting on our “stay-cations.” (“Why?” I asked, reflecting on all our trips to the park, zoo, public swimming pools, libraries, free theater, two dollar movie days, and her and my dad right there with me and my brothers.)
Bring poor is hard and it’s not right that it happens, but I prefer it to the hustle because at the very least, poor taught me what love is and I won’t let a shitty job deny me that.
The secrets scientists don’t want you to know about:
- Their caffeine consumption habits
- How many showers were skipped
- That they are actually fake scientists unlike their brilliant colleagues
today im thinking about the huge buff bread guy from kikis delivery service. highly underrated guy
Genuinely just a good man. Wife adopts teenage witch that needs a place to stay in the city? Sure. Even though you got a kid on the way? That’s fine. Cat too? Love cats.
My favorite moment with him is when he goes to get some prepped baking sheets and he does this fancy twirl with them in front of Jiji. Like, there’s no other people in the room, he does this to impress a cat.
I don’t think he ever says more than a whole word the entire movie, and I still love him more than most Disney princes based on this one moment alone.
And the part where he wanted to surprise Kiki by making that beautiful elaborate sign OUT OF BREAD to advertise her business and he was all anxious for her to get home and see it
But then when he sees her coming he gets all bashful and runs away 😭
the most underrated thing about the ghibli movies is how deeply they are love stories to working people, to the small folk, to moments of love and kindness. its not just about magic, many movies are about magic and fairytales. Its not only about the people in the stories, but about stories in the people. And they are just loveable.
Ahahah, guys I put my jeans on this morning that have holes in and one of the holes lines up perfectly with my tattoo 😭
Loooook
Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.
I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.
Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.
Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.
The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.
Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.
I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.
So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.
If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.
Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.
Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.
And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.
And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.
I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.
Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.
Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.
I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.
I brought this post up with my ADHD therapist today (who also has ADHD), and she got so still that I thought our Zoom call had frozen.
Turns out she just needed to stare into her soul for a bit and it looked like this:
@dirtypuzzle I hope it's okay to share some of your tags because these REALLY resonated w/ me
FAT TITTY TUESDAY HAS BEGUN YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO















