seigur

Estuary Evenings

Print Shop

here’s an idea: notice toxic trends in your behavior and, idk, change them

the fact that people are complaining on this post that they can’t change their behaviors that hurt others because they have x mental illness and We Can’t All Be Neurotypical Karen is absolutely fucking wild. do you realize your arguments have come full circle to being indistinguishable from the most crude, generic “mentally ill people are inherently dangerous and/or abusive” ableist rhetoric? you always have the agency to address the ways in which you are hurting others (or yourself). maybe not instantly. maybe not effortlessly. but it IS within your abilities and it is something you owe to your community and yourself

and ultimately, having a mental illness doesn’t make your harmful behavior somehow not harmful. nothing will ever give you the right to put someone else through trauma.

wheres the love of my life wtf!!! i got things i want to do with them tf

Strike & Storm Light by Neil Burnell

…crush.

Sunrise colors of the Eastern Sierras.. | elliothawkey

No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle.

“Snowy Fields” - 1969

the smell of Home Depot is cathartic

fairies live in the lights & chandeliers section, gnomes live in the outdoor gardening department

Stop romanticizing home depot

pixies live in the paint aisle. fuck you

we learn worse. when i broke the tower i was building, my student said to me what i say to her, all the time: “it’s okay! we will rebuild it together. things happen, but we can help each other fix them.” my words out of her mouth sounded big, big, big. this idea i’d given her idly, just when i was comforting her in the moments of mess-ups - not to laugh, but to lend a hand.

big, big, big words. when my second graders come in, one of them says: we should just kill them all, and be done with it. 

i remind him we don’t talk about killing at school. i tell him we absolutely do not talk about killing people. and then i ask: where did you even get this idea.

his dad, of course. talking to his mom. it probably wasn’t something he was supposed to overhear. and what am i going to do about parent politics, you know? i remind my student about kindness. i make sure to read a book about love and acceptance. what does a second grader know about killing, huh?

in fifth grade after-school, we make a poster. i write the words “if i could change the world, i would…” in big swooping font. since i spend most of my day with children under 7, i expect answers like “i would have wings” or “i would be a princess.” i expect them to be children.

instead, i get “i would change gun laws so my friends don’t have to die,” “i would stop companies from hurting the environment” “i would keep everybody safe, no matter who they are or where they came from.” 

big, big, big ideas. we forget how much kids are sponges. how much they soak up everything. how quickly they learn to read, to understand, to form their own knowledge and passions. what am i supposed to do. they’re bolstered by the internet. i can’t tell them to turn their heads from what they already know is true.

on the playground, we have to call one of the boys in again and explain to him that he cannot run around screaming “grab them by the pussy” even if he heard those words from the president. later, this same boy talks loudly about russia and fake news. i have to kindly ask him to cut the politics down while he’s at school. he’s scaring everyone with talks of nukes.

im scared, everyone. a girl comes up to me and looks at her best friend. he is a mexican student. “is he going to have to leave?” she asks.

and what am i supposed to do.