anomellee

[anomellee]

I could happily go the rest of my life without seeing another post about how orgasms aren't the point of sex. It's true enough but women don't have to be told our pleasure doesn't matter, we already figured that out via the constant societal messaging that tells us our pleasures and desires are at best frivolous if not dangerous

[anomellee]

the weirdly vengeful and petty tones aborted babies take in pro-life propaganda images are so funny like this passive aggressive "was it worth it mommy?" and "it's a shame you can't join me in heaven mommy 😔" like do you ever wonder if you were aborted for a reason you little bitch ass baby

[anomellee]

you have to be very, very careful not to let that feeling convince you that it's okay for young adults to have fewer rights.

But you also have to realize that other people might have less life experience than you do, and so it's important to sometimes give the benefit of the doubt for behavior you find inappropriate for their age

I think mostly what young fandom types (and I guess younger people in general) who are very very invested in the idea that “20 is still basically a minor” need to understand is that the feeling of “I’m just a child pretending to be an adult, and everyone else around me is a REAL adult” is DEEPLY universal (and won’t stop, ever, by the way, sorry!) and also is not, like, praxis.

Believe me, I get it, but the self-infantilization needs to stop, especially when you’re trying to engage in conversations about actual children and the harms they can face. Yes, it is scary to wake up and realize you’re 22 and you still feel like you’re 15, but it happens to all of us. You’re an adult. You have to deal with it.

[anomellee]

Aaron Swartz crawled a bunch of archived documents from online library websites and they killed him for it

a bunch of ai companies crawl a bunch of library websites so aggressively they break and...?

[anomellee]

US state borders but they are based off rivers and mountains

[anomellee]

Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[anomellee]

there are two competing sects on this website - one that uses the word "spicy" to mean "neurodivergent" and one that uses the word "spicy" to mean "sexual content." i do not like either of them

[anomellee]

saw this cute post and now I'm not going on reddit for the rest of the day. quit while you're ahead

[anomellee]

happy pride month to the fuck tree I guess

[anomellee]

it became like a point system, i guess.

it wasn't that he never did anything romantic or wonderful. he would do these things for me on occasion almost ritualistically - after i'd exhibited about four or five different breakdowns. he would finally book tickets to the symphony. we would finally spend a weekend in the mountains, drinking wine and listening to audiobooks. we would finally go on some serious expedition somewhere - no longer than a week, but it was felt. and those things would be 500, 700, 9000 points.

(at the time, as you know, i hadn't realized yet that it was always things that pertained to his interests. we did not go to poetry slams, we went to long and weird contemporary music festivals. we did not go to my places or be with my people - it was his places, his people. as ashamed as i am to admit it now: when he did begrudgingly allow me to cart him to my things, it still somehow became a point in his favor. that i brough him to the beautiful, sacred place of Acadia National Park earned him the 500 points - for his patience. for his willingness. for his sanctimony.)

and then he would cash in on those points and do virtually nothing. meanwhile, i'd buy dinner or send a card or call first or send a loving text or bring him little gifts. and these were all small things. they were 100, 200 points. i'd do this stupid, feminine, evil little domestic labor: the socks off the floor or getting groceries or remembering to turn the lights off or putting the seat down or whatever. the small "oopsie" partner things that you are supposed to accept. and those were all valued very low, as if i was in some kind of emotional arcade game. they'd be 5, 10, sometimes (in particularly rough moments) up to 50 points, if i was very generous with my cleaning and/or emotional supporting and/or romantic effort.

but the whole time, like clockwork, he'd call in on the points. remember when we went to new hampshire? or babe i just planned a date for you last month. on one very sweet moment, i remember him saying, without irony - why would i plan your birthday. i got you what you wanted for christmas. i am born in july, on the first. it had been 7 entire months. i had sent him the gift i had wanted - on reflection, had i not wanted him to "claim points" on something he hadn't put effort into? or was i just scared i'd be confronted with that same knowledge we've all had when opening a lackluster, terrible gift - this is fucking nothing. he claimed the points anyway, and i let him.

i don't know why i allowed it. i'm a feminist. i was already actively writing about emotional labor, all of that. but when you are raised in a house that loves anger, your whole body becomes an echo. you can't hear your own pain over the ache of your history. maybe it's just that it did feel - through catholic guilt or though my past or through my own passive and stupid fawning nature - like it made sense. yes, he did take me on a date last month! so what if he said i looked like a sausage in that dress (fully knowing of my eating disorder)? he had taken me on the date, which was kind of him.

i keep remembering how confused he was each time, holding up these little points in front of me. other men do it too sometimes - the men who assume they've earned enough "friendship" points to fuck me - but he was just so earnest about it. he didn't need to support me or hold me or be kind to me - he had already been kind, at one point, and now that job was over.

and i would stand in that little arcade of our lives and see my own score, bright and blazing above me. millions of points ahead of him, somehow, just because i was constantly trying. and i'd try to point it out to him and i would feel sort of dumb and obvious doing it. who can say i do your laundry is equivalent to we went to disney. but there it was, and there we were: him asking to win the biggest prize. the bright green monkey. and me, begging him - i just need you to show up for me consistently.

[anomellee]

anish kapoor's descension

[anomellee]

I just don't think that there's this big majority of happy "neurotypicals" who aren't at all bothered by working a crappy full-time job just to barely afford a room in a shitty apartment in a world that gets scarier by the day and doesn't leave much time OR money for either connection, rest, self care or hobbies. Like I think that's a myth we are being sold to shame us into acting like we're fine too actually for as long as we possibly can

[anomellee]

if you are TME and dont have the desire to learn anything about trans women thats like, totally okaysies and we are always down to repeatedly educate you over and over as you speak over us but if you're TMA and dont care about the American 80s/90s queer community and its terminology you're obviously an evil fucking baeddal bitch who doesnt known his their her history

[anomellee]

“Workers in the imperialist countries gradually lose the spirit of working-class internationalism due to a certain degree of complicity in the exploitation of the dependent countries, and this weakens the combativity of the masses in the imperialist countries.”

— Che Guevara

[anomellee]

think that everyone has their own personal theme in life