I think the hardest thing about being mentally ill is trying to figure out when you’re justified in being upset and when you’re being irrational, especially since you’re so used to being irrational that in the few moments you are justified, it still feels irrational
Tablo: Throughout the entire time (3 years) it took to resolve the controversy, [Hye Jung, Tablo’s wife] never once made it seem like she was experiencing any hardships.
Host: Even though it was probably really difficult for her.
Tablo: Yes, it was probably even more difficult for her than for me. Much more difficult. But she always said, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
But, we did have one conflict.
We were eating together, and because I always had this troubled look on my face, the atmosphere while we were eating wasn’t very good.
Suddenly, Hye Jung-ie slammed her spoon on the table.
“Hurry up and cry. Just hurry up and cry. Cry as much as you want,” she said.
And at those words, I really cried.
She told me to just cry it all out now and put an end to all of it. She told me, “You’re not someone who can’t beat this. You’re stronger than this.”
So, like a child, I cried and cried.
Host: Did she not cry with you?
Tablo: She didn’t cry then, but when the whole controversy was resolved, one day, I asked her, “It was hard, wasn’t it?” And then she started crying really hard. She had held it all in. Even though she’d been wanting to cry, she thought it would, as a result, make me weaker.
Unfollowing you because I followed for your writing, but you don’t seem to be doing that anymore.
Anon, you know, you can always just unfollow me. I don’t check to see who has unfollowed or followed. You can leave, and it won’t bother me. But messages like this do bother me, particularly when I’ve been anxious about my productivity of late. I know my live-blogs of ME2 and occasional personal posts aren’t what most people followed me for, but this is my blog. It’s my space, and people are welcome to enter or leave it as they choose. You don’t need to make an announcement.
I have a preschool student who loves “The Man in the Moon” very much, so I gave her a copy to keep at home, thinking this would give her the time to pour over the pictures without spending so much time doing that at school. I was completely wrong. Now she just comes to school with all the questions she has formed while reading it alone at home. (She’s three so she can’t really read, but she studies the pages.)
Today she said, “What’s the mommy doing?” I said, “Going to bed, in her room. She already said ‘Good Night.’“ Student: “Oh. She’s crying?” (this is asked with a smile, not really sure what’s happening at this point.) Me: //tries to ignore the stabs to my heart// “Yes.” “No, she just doesn’t want the baby to have bad dreams.” Student: “OH! Because Pitch is coming, take the baby away, take him away and keep him?” Me: … Uh, let’s just turn the page… //cries forever
tbh i think one of my greatest vices when it comes to wanting to convey an idea is that like. i could write it out, and i could probably write it decently. but the constant temptation of draw it out instead gets in the way. so i have like. a million and one little ideas!! that i could share!!! little stories and scenarios, bit plot ideas! little plot ideas! that i could share with everyone, if I could just get over this unrealistic want to illustrate everything
the kitchen was dark… it was near two AM and the whole house was quiet.. but there you were, making pancakes and listening to music like the “normal” person you were
chris walked from upstairs and into the kitchen, the subtle sound of music flowing through the speakers, and turned to see you standing at the stove in one his over-sized shirts and a pair of joggers…
you had decided to fix food since it was one of chris’ late nights of filming and editing, just to have a little treat as it had been a while since dinner…
“when i thought of food, pancakes was not what i had in mind…” he chuckled, sliding his feet against the hardwood floor and over to you, standing next to you at the stove
“well, that’s what you’re getting.” you laughed, flipping the pancake and noticing it was done, and then sliding it onto a plate. as you turned off the stove, the song changed from an old throwback pop song, to an oldddd throwback song.. talking a 1967 American single.. which also happened to be chris’ favorite
at the first note, chris nearly gasped and reached out to you, loosely grabbing the back of your arm as you tried to place the pancakes on a plate
“dance with me,” he said sliding up close to you, and then pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder
you laughed and placed the skillet on the counter, turning around and looking at him standing behind you. you raised a brow, “are you serious? now?” you asked and he nodded, reaching down and taking your hands into his then you succumbed to him, leaning into his body and slowly moving with him along the kitchen tiles
“you’re just too good to be true, i can’t take my eyes off of you..” frankie valli’s voice filled the kitchen. you smiled and slithered your arms around his neck, leaning in closer “you’re like heaven to touch.. i wanna hold you so much”
chris adored this song so much.. from the first car ride together to now, he always vowed it was his favorite. he swore it was going to be the song for the first dance at his wedding… and you didn’t mind that as long as you were in that dance as well
“at long last love has arrived, and i think god i’m alive… you’re just too good to be true, i can’t take my eyes off of you..” as the song picked up, you and chris danced subtly but fast, spinning and twisting in the kitchen. you laughed as he spun you around quickly, and then pulled you back into him, kissing the tip of your nose
“i adore you,” you sighed happily
he grinned down at you, tucking your hair behind your ears, and kissing you. “i love you.”