adhdilettant - Tumblr blog

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I wish someone would have told me that I could give myself achievable conditions to improve my life/situation/whatever for the little treats I allow myself literally constantly before I turned 32

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Meowcdonalds

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Us: please stop being corporate monsters

GM: Here have another monster!

General Mills Officially Announces “Carmella Creeper” as First New Cereal Monster in 35 Years! The zombie-themed character will be the first female cereal monster in the history of the brand and is the long-lost cousin of Franken Berry. She’s a zombie DJ with an edgy sound who is always the life of the party.

https://bloody-disgusting.com/the-further/3764997/general-mills-officially-announces-carmella-creeper-as-first-new-cereal-monster-in-35-years/

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Having a hard time wrapping my head around living in a world where the person who penned the classic phrase:

You need somebody to come over and dig ya out

Now holds a religious (?) service every Sunday

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The beauty of growing up in the 90's is that now, in my thirties, I have Adult Money to dress like Avril and dressing like Avril is cool again

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It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

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By the time you're 32 you should have a multitude of Allen wrenches and still not be able to put together the furniture you've ordered online if the manufactures forget to include it

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Dear Netlfix: hear me out...

No laugh track, giving 'Community' camaraderie, 'Derry Girls' low-stakes 30-minute resolution & 'Enola Holmes' outside-the-system approach to resolution After learning of an estranged relative, _____(s) inherit [a portion of/an estate] in the beautiful [insert place here] countryside supported by a trust set up in such a way that the lucky beneficiaries will be set for life. The only stipulation? The caretaker, Phil has been there since he was a wee lad. The generous benefactor requires that Phil be treated as family. He's a congenial bloke, and all goes swimmingly. Phil is absolutely no trouble at all! This is, of course, as long as you "pay no mind" to the curious hours Phil keeps or the inconsistencies that run through his stories like a kitten weaving between your feet. Can he be trusted? How do you Phil about it? Will our protagonists survive being...

"Left With the Phil?"

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Beautifully done handmade fairycore or goblincore mirror.

fairy witch cottagecore vibes

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Cat discovers icecream

(via)

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Absolutely adorable ❤️

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Cats cuddling

(via)

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I would gladly accept whatever side quest NPC kitty offers

Saint Conan's Kirk has its own guide cat

she lead us to the entrance in exchange for some petting

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Fluffy kitten loves his even fluffier dog friend (via)

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Hello again, Internet

Today I went outside and realized how much of a complete arse-bucket I've been. It began with a package. I was waiting in anticipation for a knock at the door. But it was far past the delivery time. After sleuthing the reason, I found the package was undeliverable due to an inaccessible mailbox. I'm ashamed to admit, but I had a moment where I almost Karen-ed out. I even took pictures to submit in case they disputed the redelivery (really didn't want to go to the post office, n'yall). But while I was taking the picture I realized just how much of a dick I was being.

Tip your mail-person, right? Yeah the holidays are past us and everyone is starting to settle into the people who they choose to be "this year". I have to admit: I completely forgot to acknowledge them. This is the person who beings me packages and special occasion cards from my dad, though most of the post consists of junk mail and credit card offers! They deserve way more than what I'm able to give them.

I had been going outside so little (thanks, WFH, I truly do love you with all my heart it's not your fault) that I didn't notice the state of my curb. The other caretakers of my street are clearly thoughtful, caring, and diligent people. And no, we don't have an HOA. It was one of the TOP priorities when we were house hunting. It's taken me FAR too long to realize the equal and opposite reaction to that choice. I am the one who is in fact, the HOA. I know it sounds so stupid to say out loud, because duhyouhavetotakecareofyourshitAdi... but dear non-existent reader, all I can say is yikes.

It would be easy to beat myself up over how stupid I've been or just feel badly forever. Maybe even justified if I didn't make sure to from now on have a clean, clear path to my mailbox and try to offer a (late, but genuine) thank you with a nod to my obliviousness. I, however, am going to do both of these things. Doesn't matter if the mailperson hates me forever (because tbh now that I've seen the state of my curb I would absolutely understand); I'm doing my best to fix it because I fucked up. And from there, I can give myself a little grace.

Not to get into it here, but social interaction generally baffled me as a child; I always wondered how it seemed to come so easily to the other kids. Also, how they managed to use folders instead of just kind of... stuffing everything in their backpacks. Up until recently, the general idea I had cultivated about myself, for myself, was just that I was just kinda... bad at things. After a few significant setbacks, I finally consulted a professional and found out that I'm neurodivergent, and I'm adjusting as I go now. That's my grace and it may not be the same for the next panda but it works for me, and I'm satisfied with that.

I'm not bad at things, I'm just better at doing things in a non-conventional way. I'm allowing myself the grace to accept that I grew up in a time where being a gifted kid just meant being assigned more advanced busywork. I've got the space to explore my own creative paths that little Adi and that's exciting.

So, dear-nonexistent reader, here's to continuing my own education. Cheers to taking paths that would exhilarate Young Adi's intellect and creating a life befitting the woman I want to be.

<3

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[Dear Non-existent] "...reader: thou mayest believe me without any oath that I would this book, as it is the child of my brain, were the fairest, gayest, and cleverest that could be imagined. But I could not counteract Nature’s law that everything shall beget its like; and what, then, could this sterile, illtilled wit of mine beget but the story of a dry, shrivelled, whimsical offspring, full of thoughts of all sorts and such as never came into any other imagination ‒ just what might be begotten in a prison, where every misery is lodged and every doleful sound makes its dwelling?… Sometimes when a father has an ugly, loutish son, the love he bears him so blindfolds his eyes that he does not see his defects, or, rather, takes them for gifts and charms of mind and body, and talks of them to his friends as wit and grace.... I have no desire to go with the current of custom, or to implore thee, dearest reader, almost with tears in my eyes, as others do, to pardon or excuse the defects thou wilt perceive in this child of mine." -Cervantes