beesmakesthings

[beesmakesthings]

Reblogging because this is glorious, and also Tom Daley is an amazing crafter who is unashamed of his art. And we need more of that.

His made with love insta also lifts other artists and creators of all types. Which is pretty rad actually.

10 pounds says terfs start arguing men have an unfair advantage in knitting next

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Yes please. But id also add “considerably lower temperatures” to this list

[beesmakesthings]

Mood.

“source?” divine intuition, gut instinct, and cryptic symbolism from my dreams

[beesmakesthings]

“wouldn’t you rather earn something than have it just handed to you?”

Yeah when it comes to actual awards and fancy goods, but when it comes to basic needs, basic human decency, and accomodations, those things should always be handed to people. No one should have to “earn” those things.Value people as people, not base it on how much they produce. 

[beesmakesthings]

Ducking THIS. Why is this so hard for people to understand?

<screaming into the void >

HOUSING FIRST, YOU MORONS.

[beesmakesthings]

I’ll walk with you. I’ll take you and drop you off if that’s what you need. You can take off when you find your tribe babes. It’s all good. Text me when you get home.

reminder that "allies welcome" was once secret code for "those not out yet can still participate without putting themselves at risk", and for those who aren't out yet to comfortably exist in these spaces you have to let allies exist in those spaces too.

[beesmakesthings]

[beesmakesthings]

My daughter is amazing. That is all.

Yes. It is a giant French Fancy. Why do you ask?

[beesmakesthings]

This is why I can't understand people who say "oh, I don't believe in that" when they talk about trans people (other LGBTQIA+ people also, but this right now). These are amongst the most "on purpose" people I know - they have rebuilt themselves from the ground up in many cases. And people just can't be bothered (I can't think of a better explanation for it to be honest) to try and understand. Because it's too hard and asks too many questions of them. And we don't like our realities shaking or questions asked. Because if we admit the possibility of on purpose reconstruction it's much harder to hide; much harder to ignore possibilities. I've gone on my own journey with this - I've had to. Essentially because I chose to listen to the people in front of me and watch what was happening. Has it made me ask questions of myself? Of course. Has it made me think about some of the ways I thought about myself while I was growing up? Yes. Has it changed how I act? I would hope so! Very much has been uncomfortable but I can't pretend that reality exists. I have said before that it is much of my trans and non-binary family who have loved and affirmed me in other transitions in my life - given me permission to be myself. Even and especially when that self feels utterly broken I don't know what it'll bring you. Mostly it's brought me love.

quote source

[beesmakesthings]

Chair development works. The left arm has become much more damaged in the last few months and some strategic planning was required to figure out how best to manage this new repair. Because of how the chair is situated, this arm gets MUCH more friction than the other side. This time in order to make the patch, I pieced out the right shape, then backed it with sticky stuff and another piece of fabric to make a super strong base. After my last round with the shoulder piece, a friend suggested I switch to round needles for the sewing on and this was a capital suggestion. However I've hit a snag. The round needles are conceptually great, but they are too big a gauge for this fine a fabric. Does anyone know if you can get curved needles that are slim, and if you CAN, where from? UK based would be preferable.

[beesmakesthings]

Thankfully I have Rick in my life and his voice is in my head telling me capitalism is a death cult. This means this filters to my kid.

Capitalism is a death cult. You heard me.

[beesmakesthings]

me, carefully using a bright yellow pen in my bullet journal: I feel like a monk illuminating a manuscript.

my husband, also a bujo bitch, not even questioning this: fuck yeah

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Just do it ^huh^

I did it :)

This petition has until 14th July 2025.

If you live in the UK, please sign it.

If not, please share it so it can reach more people :]

[beesmakesthings]

Back in this today with another realisation - well, more of a connection, a bringing it full circle

It doesn’t mean he didn’t love me. It just means he didn’t speak love like I do/can. he could only speak love like he could. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t loved. Since I've always believed salvation can come from books, (IYKYK...) here are two things:

When my child was very young I was in a truly wonderful group for Mums at a local church. One of the books we read was Gary Chapmans 5 Love Languages. I'm not here for a discussion about the merits of that book - only to tell you what it taught me. I bought the book in the hope of learning something about my partner, but the biggest thing that came out of it was I learned about my Dad. I can count on the fingers of my hands the amount of times I can coherently remember my Dad telling me that he loved me. I told him A LOT - especially near the end, because I needed to know I'd told him. I'd let go of whether he said it to me by then. But I needed him to know that I loved him, so I told him. He was fragile and broken and old. I have no shame about saying that - at all. Why should I? What I learned from the book was that my Dad had been telling me he loved me all along, it's just that we literally didn't speak the same language. When you are small you need people to tell you because you aren't able to understand the other kinds of things yet. And if all the signals you CAN receive don't feel like love, you're not going to feel that person loves you. And I didn't, most of the time. When I understood acts of service and gifts of time and all those other things (I speak words of affirmation and gifts as my core languages, with the others in satellite.) I realised that he loved me in ways I just hadn't been able to as a young person.

2. For a long time I have read novels by John Irving (he of The Cider House Rules and A Prayer for Owen Meany) - When it came out, I read Until I Find You. Because of that book I read about the therapy that the central character goes through, which he describes as literally about getting the story straight. (He is essentially told one thing by his mother which is then countered when he finally meets his father) and narrative therapy is actually a thing. It makes a lot of sense. I was never lied to in a structural way as Jack is in the book - I just perceived different things from what was going on and every explanation I received didn't match what I felt was actually happening to me.

The more I think about it, the more I think part of grieving is or can be, lining everything up and sorting it out. Physically and emotionally.

So the realisation this morning that none of the other precludes him loving me, brought me back to that earlier realisation that he'd been telling me all along, I just didn't know. I feel like I've been threading those big popper beads that babies have (search fisher price pop beads toy) and this is kinda things popping together as you come back right round. Popping it back into a circle. I love you Dad. You were a difficult man. And I loved you then and now. Whatever kind of love.

Dear Dad,

It’s been two years since you left. I’m lying awake in the dark, digesting information about you when I was small.

It wasn’t good ever, was it really? Children were not your strong point. Given that you were a teacher, this does and doesn’t make sense.

It’s only being a parent that makes me understand- you thought it would get better as we got older. But I don’t know what you were expecting. I think I always knew we didn’t make sense to you. Or at least I didn’t.

I think you were free to love your granddaughter as you pleased because you didn’t have the worries. And I think I’m glad of that. But I’m sunk in the fact that parenting probably wasn’t easy for you.

Thing is Dad, it’s not easy for anyone. Even the people it looks easy with. You have no idea what is happening and the whole thing is an ice rink all the time - things move and change. Things aren’t comprehensible, there is little order. I suspect that was part of the problem. The unpredictability. You stood up for things you felt were wrong- but it was always the principle, not whether we would actually benefit or be affected by it.

And yet. Here we are, marking time. We loved you. In your awkward way, you loved us. You did what you knew - sometimes that all you’ve got. I’m not mad about it now. It’s what I’ve always known - even despite the pictures. And perhaps that’s something I can lay down now.

I’ve had this sense of getting it right in the end. You wanted more time in the days with us - but that was you too. Always more important and not really thinking about anything else - someone else can take care of that. But that’s not how it works.

None of this means I don’t miss you. It just means things are more honest. And maybe that’s all we can do.

B

[beesmakesthings]

I have other things I want to say. But this is beautiful and will do for a start.

trans women, i love you.

you were a woman yesterday. you're a woman today. you're a woman tomorrow. you're a woman forever.

trans women have existed long before those stuffy bigots sitting in a court room have. trans women will continue to exist long after they're dead and rotting in the earth.

[beesmakesthings]

Important sea news

EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP SCIENTISTS AT THE SCHMIDT OCEAN INSTITUTE HAVE FOOTAGE OF A LIVE COLOSSAL SQUID FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🦑‼️🦑‼️🦑‼️🦑‼️🦑‼️🦑

[beesmakesthings]

Reblogging myself because it has come to me rereading this a couple of minutes ago that this means a lot of things weren’t my fault. I couldn’t account for him any more than he could account for me.

I did some things that warranted telling off. For sure. But all the other stuff I felt like - that wasn’t my fault. That was him. If he had expectations or ideas in his head of how things were supposed to be, I can’t be held responsible for not meeting them.

Dear Dad,

It’s been two years since you left. I’m lying awake in the dark, digesting information about you when I was small.

It wasn’t good ever, was it really? Children were not your strong point. Given that you were a teacher, this does and doesn’t make sense.

It’s only being a parent that makes me understand- you thought it would get better as we got older. But I don’t know what you were expecting. I think I always knew we didn’t make sense to you. Or at least I didn’t.

I think you were free to love your granddaughter as you pleased because you didn’t have the worries. And I think I’m glad of that. But I’m sunk in the fact that parenting probably wasn’t easy for you.

Thing is Dad, it’s not easy for anyone. Even the people it looks easy with. You have no idea what is happening and the whole thing is an ice rink all the time - things move and change. Things aren’t comprehensible, there is little order. I suspect that was part of the problem. The unpredictability. You stood up for things you felt were wrong- but it was always the principle, not whether we would actually benefit or be affected by it.

And yet. Here we are, marking time. We loved you. In your awkward way, you loved us. You did what you knew - sometimes that all you’ve got. I’m not mad about it now. It’s what I’ve always known - even despite the pictures. And perhaps that’s something I can lay down now.

I’ve had this sense of getting it right in the end. You wanted more time in the days with us - but that was you too. Always more important and not really thinking about anything else - someone else can take care of that. But that’s not how it works.

None of this means I don’t miss you. It just means things are more honest. And maybe that’s all we can do.

B