Okay, like a lot of other fans, I thought we’d get an actual clip from season 2. But this was just as great. They really did a great job creating the image of the scenes and Ezra, as usual, makes me wonder if I’ll break the record of wide smiles because of the energy he’s giving. He’s such an awesome leader of the panels, he speaks for the fans!! XD
So! About the sneak peak of “Troublemaker”. Adrien will find out about Marinette’s crush on him! Is that the episode with this, ya think?:
By the way, RollingStone (JaggedxPenny) moments? Lookin’ forward to it. 😏
Blur cover of a folk song from a rare promo record given as a gig freebie. It was recorded during a break for the initial recording sessions of “For Tomorrow” off Modern Life is Rubbish. This is the only Blur song where the drummer, Dave Rowntree, does vocals.
I see what you're saying, like she's been at it long enough, and she has improved, but she's pretty much maxed out there. She's not going to get a half a point somewhere for bars. I would like to see her get an eponymous skill and, I totally want her to break Miller's medal record. I also kind of want to see her tumbling get more insane. Like do a 2 1/2 walk out on the first pass, and upgrade her last pass, though I'm sure by then shes nearly dead. A Chuso, full in, dd, somethin. Sure it's crazy
Right…like she could maybe clean up a tiny bit more on bars but it’s not really worth making a whole change just for a few extra tenths. It would be awesome to see her break the record just so all the haters would be so upset (I’m petty). And yeah, I’m always here for big floor upgrades for her. I would love to see her get an eponymous skill on bars, kinda like Victoria Moors did even though Moors was the opposite of a bar worker. 2020, Aly Raisman shows up, beats Miller’s record, and does like, a toe front layout full to get a bars skill in the COP as the Raisman. #DREAMS
I don’t trust men and I don’t trust their opinions when it comes to what should or shouldn’t make non-male persons uncomfortable in relation to past trauma.
I grew up with a father who was mentally ill and prone to violent tantrums and breakdowns, including breakdowns in public spaces. My earliest memories are of him breaking vinyl records he collected and screaming on the floor or flipping out at me or my mother. After a while he started taking these tantrums out on me, a toddler-aged child, and would spank me for literally anything I did that was, in his mentally diseased head, “unsuitable” (like chewing food too loudly or spilling a drink). I got the hell beaten out of my backside, yelled at, called worthless, and locked in my bedroom for hours at a time where I would be left on the floor crying. I have memories of both of my parents yelling at me from the other side of that door, although my mom denies this ever happened.
A few years later, when I was about ten years old, I learned that my father, my aunt, and my grandfather were all very quietly part of a child pornography distribution ring and were consequently all pedophiles, and that some of the people my father traded vinyl records with (including two DJs at a local jazz station) were also in this ring. I have no memory of any sexual abuse happening to me, but I vividly remember my father sexually pursuing girls between the ages of 11 and 16/17 in my neighborhood. Eventually, no parent would send their children over to my house to play with me (and rightfully so, even though it hurt at the time), so I wound up isolated, scared, and continually being threatened with violence by a man who knew that I knew what he was doing. None of this was enough to make my mom leave him. It took him fathering a child with my babysitter to do it.
In high school I was a mental and emotional wreck who reached out to the absolute wrong people for love and acceptance. I had my trust violated so many times. I was looked down on for being poor, for being mentally ill, for being “too clingy” because I literally had nothing else to cling to. I fell in love with a boy who was very cruel to me and it one day culminated into a fight between us in one of our classes, a fight where he had me pinned by the wrists and told me, with the most dead look in his eyes, that I was pathetic, worthless, and belonged in a mental institution. Everyone saw what happened, including our teacher, and nobody did anything about it. I ran out of that classroom crying and not a single fucking person bothered to stand up for me or even check on me. I attempted suicide by smothering three times in my teens because I felt like I didn’t deserve to live.
Fast-forward even further. My sophomore year of college was a complete fucking mess where I nearly failed out of school. It has taken me a long time to fully understand what happened during this time and why it deteriorated my mental state further, but now I’m very away of everything that went wrong. A guy I had been friends with since we were both in middle school sexually assaulted me, and what happened royally fucked up the way I saw my own body and the way I evaluated my worth. The man who did this to me, he had been repeatedly molested as a child by his cousin and had his own mental baggage, and part of me can’t get too angry with him for this reason. What happened still happened, though. He touched me in ways that I didn’t want to be touched, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want my mom to find out - she would have blamed me and blamed him, too.
Within a week of this incident happening, I nearly got abducted out of a public park by a man in his ‘40s who kept asking me a series of uncomfortable sexual questions and actually grabbed my arm before I broke away from him. Also, and this is not his fault, but my best friend of nearly ten years, who I had a lot of emotional attachment to, stopped talking to me and became wrapped up in living a new life with his boyfriend. I was suffering and the person who used to always be there for me during times of extreme distress was suddenly gone. In hindsight I know I was trying to force a friendship between us that no longer existed and he needed to be free. I was way too dependent on somebody who knew the “real me” and I couldn’t let him live his own life away from me because of my own issues with abandonment.
To make matters worse, I made a mistake that I’ve actively watched younger followers of mine make on this site - I became obsessed with a guy in a popular band who gave me the attention I craved and once again, I kept reaching out for love and affection from the wrong person. After an argument he wound up humiliating me on social media and I started getting stalked and harassed by this particular musician’s fans. All of these events, everything I’ve mentioned in the last paragraph and in this one, happened within the span of a month. All horrible occurrences, all at the hands of men, most of whom I had previously trusted. I suffered a massive breakdown after that which took years to recover from, and what happened during this time permanently altered my personality into something that old friends didn’t recognize or particularly like. Before long there were discussions about how much I had “changed for the worse”.
Later that year I started dating someone who in hindsight was not good for me and I wasn’t good for him. We were both recovering from breakdowns and took our mental health issues out on one another until our relationship just imploded. Around this same time, in late 2009, my estranged father started showing up to my college campus for no other reason than to seemingly follow me around and stare at me. His second wife, an absolute troll of a woman, started accompanying him and one day she actually approached me by saying “Your daddy wants to talk to you. He’s a changed man, he’s given his life to the Lord and Jesus has saved him. He wants to be back in your life and he’s so sorry”. In other words, my abusive pedophile father was using Jesus as a rug to sweep all of his sins under and this sad woman had to speak on his behalf because he was too much of a coward to speak for himself. Older men started scaring the shit out of me. I became wary of all of them…
…And then I met Brann. I met him when his mother and grandparents were present and while I was with my ex-boyfriend. Brann already knew who I was, was a fan of my writing, and gave me a hug. Something about that moment almost made me believe that not all men were awful. Maybe a few of them could be trusted. Once again I became obsessed with a musician, but I was seeking out familial love instead of anything romantic. I started searching for opportunities to be around Brann and his wife, who both treated me like a human being and not like something that was worthless or should be thrown in an asylum. Without going into details, Brann has been hospitalized for mental illness. When I was actually put into a mental hospital back in 2011, I kept a magazine with me that had a Mastodon article in it as a reminder that he had been through this too, he made it out too, and I was going to be okay. During this time several male musicians I networked with showed me love and support. I started feeling okay…
…But my trust was violated again after an old high school friend sexually assaulted me after a show we both attended. I didn’t make a fuss about it at the time; I acted like nothing happened because I was friends with his wife and I didn’t want her to find out about the incident. This guy had had a crush on me for years and there was this underlying anger in him towards me over “rejecting” him. I stayed friends with him anyway because I didn’t want to be alone. Part of me still didn’t want to accept that men, when given the chance, would violate my body and my trust no matter how much of a friend or an ally that they present themselves to be. Part of me started giving a fuck. I went out on “dates” with older men in their '30s and '40s who were doing a not-so-good job at pretending to be my friend for the hopes that they could fuck me. I started playing games with these men, many of them musicians, and I won. I got satisfaction out of fucking with them without actually fucking them because I saw it as revenge for all the times I had been fucked with…
…And then I met Jared. I had had a crush on him back when we were both in college but I was too shy to talk to him, but mutual friends brought us together. I don’t know if I believe in the concept of soulmates, but he’s one of the few people I’ve met who really “gets” who I am on a deeper level. I started allowing myself to love again. I let some of my guard down and let my vulnerable side come out, that same vulnerable, needy side I used to parade around when I was younger. Still though, and I hope that in reading this he would understand what I mean - Jared is still a man. He has had times where he didn’t completely “get” why certain things bothered me the way they did, but the different is that he still loves me enough to try to understand, and few men are willing to do that.
To be fair, I didn’t completely understand why certain things bothered me either, but I do know that I was having panic attacks, abusing prescription meds, abusing alcohol, and generally fucking my life up. I got obsessed with animated shows and the men who made them, and I started fucking with them online as a way to get out the anger that I felt at men in general. I met a group of women and girls who had the same attitude I had and it became fun for us to fuck with the guys behind these shows, as if we had found sisterhood in sexually degrading men we didn’t know. It wasn’t a healthy thing to do and I feel horrible about it now, but when a traumatized person doesn’t recognize their own trauma yet, that trauma gets subverted into weird channels of behavior and actions. It was easier to vent my anger and frustration on men I didn’t know than it was at men in my waking life. It’s amazing that there are people who knew me during this time who are still my friend because I was legitimately awful.
Anyway, I reached a tipping point where I knew my life needed to change. I got a gym membership and lost 65 lbs. I got a decent-paying full-time job and moved into my own place with Jared shortly after. I fought extremely hard to improve myself and had to cut a lot of people out of my life along the way. Unfortunately this job which had at first been a blessing was now destroying me from the inside out, and the final straw came when they hired my estranged father to a position in the company. I told them about what kind of person he was, explained how traumatizing it would be for me if they continued to let him work there, and they only “considered” my needs for protection. It wasn’t until a large group of female employees threatened to go on strike that the company finally decided to fire him, but even then they wouldn’t release his address to me so I could file a restraining order.
Also last year, a series of things happened after becoming friends with a particular person that led me to understand why things bothered me the way they did, why I felt uncomfortable being touched, why sex sometimes felt repulsive to me, why I held so many negative feelings about my own pleasure. It took that long for me to recognize that I had been sexually assaulted by two men who I had been friends with for years, who I had grown to trust, and conversations with this friend about her own sexual trauma led to this breakthrough. My own mother’s negativity about sex and sexuality, the things she told me about men when I was younger, that had traumatized me into hating myself in ways I never thought about until these conversations, too. Things finally made sense, but it was an overwhelming sort of realization and I had another long stretch of emotional breakdowns in the aftermath.
To this day I will hear part of a song, hear a certain turn of phrase, or someone will bring up a person’s name and suddenly I feel scared again. I feel panicked again. I still suffer from panic attacks, although not as frequently as i used to, and yes, there are certain things that set these panic attacks off. That is what a fucking “trigger” is - it is where your mind connects a seemingly innocent or innocuous thing to a traumatic event and it brings back feelings of fear, panic, worthlessness, etc. I have never openly discussed my triggers here because people on the internet are horrible. One of the men who assaulted me, the one who had a crush on me for years that I continually rejected, took to Facebook one time to make fun of me for labeling things on my wall with content warnings. To him, “trigger warning” equaled “weak ass little snowflake who can’t handle slightly unpleasant content”. It never occurred to him that I was giving other people who have experienced trauma a head’s up that what they were about to watch could be detrimental to their emotional well-being. I’m decent enough to not want trauma survivors to suffer a major hiccup in their personal progress.
Men, as progressive as they might be, as much as they might consider themselves feminists or allies, they will always, always find ways to subvert the trauma of non-males and turn it into an opportunity to berate them for being too sensitive. The only two men in this god-forsaken world that I trust enough to keep around and see the “real me”, they’re both into a TV show where rape and incest are peppered into the story line for shock value and they think nothing of it. It’s never happened to them, it’s never affected them, they don’t care. I’m not going to sit here and act tough - anything about rape, incest, or pedophilia greatly upsets me. It makes me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. At times I do suffer panic attacks from being reminded of things I’ve gone through. I am not a weak person because of that. In fact I am incredibly strong, way stronger than the protagonists out of any bullshit show they might pass the time watching. There’s a difference between being tough and being strong. Men like tough. Non-males like strong. One is a superficial attitude, the other is a way of survival.
Long story short; no, I don’t completely trust men and I probably never will. I keep most of them at a comfortable distance. I look up to male musicians with a huge grain of salt and can cancel them with the snap of a finger if I find out they’ve done something abusive. The only thing I ask men to do, and this is a simple fucking task, is to understand that certain things upset survivors of rape, abuse, etc. and you don’t have to understand why it upsets them because every person is different and therefore every person’s trauma is different. Don’t cheapen it, don’t make fun of it, don’t dismiss it, don’t tell people to “get over it” or mock them with “ermergerd treggehrd” or whatever. Grow the fuck up and be a good person and just keep scrolling, label things with content warnings, and stop being a prick towards people who are struggling to be okay every single day they’re alive. I don’t have to trust men. I don’t have to trust their words or actions because they can’t be trusted. I just want to not be told that my experiences and opinions based around those experiences are less important than the enjoyment of fictitious content that gives men an excuse to feel like abuse is an objective topic, a plot point, something finite and unimportant.
do you guys ever think about how yuri plisetsky, at just age fifteen, has apparently been supporting his family through his figure skating via government grants which means not only does he have to regularly compete, but he always has to do well and to consistently perform, so he’s probably never allowed to have an off performance or it means less money, less support, less opportunities, and when victor nikiforov himself, five time world champion, offers to choreograph a program for him, yuri jumps at the chance because yes, think of how much he could get if he won his very first grand prix series off of victor’s choreography – think of his ailing grandfather whom he loves so much, an absentee mother – figure skating is everything to yuri, it’s the only thing he thinks he has to offer, it’s the thing he relies on the most for emotional and financial support, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. so he throws everything onto the ice, wins the junior championship just as victor said, and now he’s about to make his pro senior debut and he’s gonna get victor to make good on his promise and–
victor just… disappears. flies across the world, completely forgets he ever promised yuri anything, turns around and blatantly uses yuri while making it clear that beyond a week’s worth of coaching him on a program, victor has no intentions of giving yuri anything bc he’s so wrapped up in yuuri
and yuri feels – abandoned, betrayed, hurt; left behind again like he always is, left waiting like he always is, used as a means to an end; is it any wonder he’s pissed off? but then this beautiful, brilliant boy takes a program he only spent a week learning from its choreographer – he takes that program, refines it, improves it and breaks victor’s world record with it, slaps victor in the face with it by winning over yuuri and telling him, victor nikiforov is dead, victor isn’t everything yuri had thought he would be and it doesn’t matter bc yuri will make himself, define himself, choose things for himself now.
do you ever think about this bc i do and it hurts me but i love this boy so much, he deserves everything