if-you-believe-me

[if-you-believe-me]

Words are containers.

They help us collect, carry, and organize things, but they can also confine, constrict, and limit.

[if-you-believe-me]

Treatise on Antiprimal Expressions in Humans entry on "Empaths"

"Empaths are antiprimals with a specific, strong energy alignment that affords them an enhanced sensitivity for the energy in question, and usually the ability to handle it with substantially advanced ease and efficiency. The specific subset of energy with which an empath is aligned is referred to as that individual's susceptibility. Susceptibilities can vary greatly in both type and breadth, from very specific strains of energy to more general energetic domains; however, it has been noted that the more specific and narrowed an empath's susceptibility, the more control and precision they tend to be able to achieve or access in their dealings with it.

"That being said, an empaths's rapport with, and prowess in dealing with their susceptibility can be increased and enhanced through exposure and practice. This fact is a central driving force in the widely contested debate of what individuals may be considered empaths as opposed to merely accomplished primal energy handlers—that is to say where the line is drawn between a propensity for a specific type energy sensing and handling and what constitutes an authentic empathetic susceptibility—and whether an individual is innately born an empath or if they may become one through exposure or choice.

"Some even argue that empaths should not, in fact, be considered antiprimals at all, but that they are simply primal humans with advanced skill in or talent for a given school of energy sensing and handling, and that the apparent difference from other primal individuals in the energetic nature of these empathic people is merely the strong presence of skill or talent in their nature. On the other hand, many point to the existence of nymphs as evidence in empaths of that crucial fundamental difference in nature that sets antiprimal humans apart from primal ones. However, others contest this view in light of the fact that elemental empaths are the only subset able to become nymphs, and so it is argued that they are the only party of individuals referred to as empaths that should be considered antiprimal. That being said, there is little evidence of any significant underlying differences in nature between elemental empaths and empaths of other susceptibilities beyond the focus of their specific susceptibility. Therefore, while this confirms to many that all empaths should be considered antiprimal, others hold that the fundamental change that takes place when an elemental empath becomes a nymph is in fact the change in nature from primal to antiprimal, and so, while nymphs are antiprimal, all empaths that are not nymphs—whether they have the capacity to become so or not—are actually primal beings."

[if-you-believe-me]

Treatise on Antiprimal Expressions in Humans entry on "Multiplicities"

"Often informally referred to as a mob, a multiplicity is an antiprimal human able to create copies or iterations of themself. Each multiplicity has their own limit of how many of their iterations are able to exist simultaneously determined in part by the class of multiplicity they are and the type of iteration they are capable of.

"In the event of reintegration, iterations must make eye contact or achieve some other form of mutual sensory acknowledgment as well as both consent to the action in order to recall one another. When a multiplicity’s iterations recall each other, the memories of the two parties are compiled together in some fashion, again determined by the type of multiplicity the individual is. Though multiplicities are able to recall their iterations from some distance, they are not able to manifest them in the same manner, rather a new iteration is manifest by physically moving away from the spot where the manifesting iteration currently is, such as taking a step forward or sideways etc. While multiplicities cannot create copies of anything beyond themselves when they iterate, they can choose whether anything they are touching at the moment of iteration remains with the manifesting iteration or moves with the newly manifested iteration. This has resulted in some multiplicities devising ensembles of layered clothing that allow them to manifest one or two iterations in public spaces without concerns of public indecency, although many will simply carry an extra set of clothes and retire to a restroom or other private space in order to iterate and dress.

"If an iteration of a multiplicity dies while other iterations are currently manifest, all other manifest iterations will immediately and simultaneously receive the deceased iteration’s memories as they would if they had recalled that iteration, and the multiplicity will no longer be able to manifest that iteration. For a locoiterator this simply means that the number of possible simultaneous iterations will be reduced by one, but for temproiterators and psychoiterators, it means the multiplicity will no longer be able to manifest the iteration associated with that temporal or psychological waypoint.

"As alluded to above, different multiplicities have different capabilities and parameters which dictate the nature of both their ability to iterate and their iterations. There are currently three recognized classes that these various types of multiplicity fall into. Those classes are as follows."

Locoiterators:

"The most common and straightforward variety of multiplicity, locoiterators are named after the fact that their iterations are effectively the same individual existing in different points in space at the same time, as these multiplicities iterate by manifesting a copy of their whole identity as it is at the moment of iteration. In the case of locoiterators, no iteration acts with any additional authority over any other iteration, nor is there one 'true' instance of the multiplicity when multiple iterations are manifest; each iteration, regardless of manifestation order or any other factor, is equal in identity accuracy, agency, and ability to all the other existing iterations. Among other things, this means that any iteration can both recall any other iteration or manifest new iterations until the multiplicity’s limit of coexisting iterations is reached. This limit varies from individual to individual, but the number is always a power of two—unless they have lost an iteration to death—and has never exceeded 64.

"Outside of death, if one locoiterator’s iteration has experienced a physical change and another iteration they recall or are recalled to has not, the resulting instance of the individual will sustain a state midway between the combined parties. For example, if one iteration is wounded and then is recalled by a healthy iteration, the resulting instance of the individual will sustain a partially healed wound. Furthermore, if an iteration has an empty stomach, but recalls an iteration that has recently digested a full meal, the resulting instance will be partially satiated. This mediation only occurs upon the first recall event following the physical change and the physical state of its resulting instance is dominant in all following recalls."

Temproiterators:

"A temproiterator describes a multiplicity whose iterations are distinguished by different times in the individual’s past as marked by temporal waypoints in their experience. While the type of event or milestone that establishes a temporal waypoint is consistent within an individual temproiterator's experience, the nature of these waypoints vary greatly between different individuals of this class of multiplicity and can be marked by anything from birthdays to whenever the individual moves into a new living space to each time they experience a rain storm. Each temproiterator’s limit of coexisting iterations is dependent on how many of these waypoints they have lived through thus far. Furthermore, for temproiterators the 'older,' or chronologically most recent, iterations hold some authority over any 'younger,' or chronologically less recent, iterations. Mainly—though any iteration is able to manifest any other iteration that is not already manifest—a younger iteration cannot recall any older iteration, while an older iteration is able to recall any and all younger iterations. This means that an iteration that is 'current' or temporally of the present moment is always in existence and circumstantially holds the most authority of any possible iterations.

"Upon recall, a temproiterator’s memories are compiled approximately as if the events had happened in the timing pertinent to the involved iterations. So, for example, if an older iteration recalls an iteration that is younger by several years, the resulting instance will feel as if the events that just happened to the younger iteration during their recent period of manifestation happened to them—the resulting instance—but as if these events were years in the past.

"Similarly, a temproiterator is affected by physical changes in recalled iterations as if these changes had occurred in the pertinent period in their timeline; for example if a younger iteration receives a deep wound and is recalled by a significantly older iteration the resulting instance of the multiplicity may produce a scar where the wound had been."

Psychoiterators:

"A psychoiterator is a multiplicity whose iterations are distinguished by divided emotions or personalities within the individual. Each psychoiterator has their own number and type of psychoiterations, and their maximum number of coexisting iterations is equal to the number of psychoiterations they have. Due to the rarity of this class of multiplicity, no common distinguishing types or trends of psychoiterations within or between individual psychoiterators have been established.

"When a psychoiterator iterates, the original manifesting iteration remains a complete, cohesive representation of the individual as a whole and may be considered the 'true' or 'undivided' version of the individual. This 'true' iteration is the only one able to manifest or recall other iterations. Additionally, to the extent that it has been studied, memory compilation and physical change between iterations upon recall for psychoiterators both function very similarly to that of locoiterators."

[if-you-believe-me]

Treatise on Antiprimal Expressions in Humans entry on "Shifting Chimera"

"Often referred to simply as a ‘chimera,’ a shifting chimera is an antiprimal whose chimeric nature comes from an ability to shapeshift between a primal human shape and the shape of one other primal (unaltered and preexisting) animal, sometimes including the ability to take liminal shapes made up of of several features derived from either primal shape combined. The chimeric shapes (the shapes it is possible for a shifting chimera to take) are distinguished by number and are as follows:

"Shape one: a non-liminal primal human shape.

"Shape two: a liminal shape in which the body is largely that of a primal human but with small recognizable substitutions, additions, or reductions derived from the second animal in question such as substituted or reduced ears, an added tail, the substitution of nails with claws, etc. The most drastic example being arms substituted with wings in some cases.

"Shape four: a liminal shape in which the head and approximate size are that of primal human, but the rest of the shape is that of the pertaining second animal. If there are any substituted, added or reduced features about the head in shape two they will also feature in this shape. This shape is sometimes colloquially referred to as a sphinx.

"Shape three: a liminal shape in which the features are nearly equally divided between primal human attributes and attributes of the pertaining second animal. This shape is always similar to a primal human in size, and all substituted, added, or reduced features existent in shape two are always present. In addition, the legs will be substituted with the appropriate animal features with minor reconstruction accommodating for some more primal human proportions and posture.

"Shape five: a non-liminal shape of the pertaining second animal.

"A shifting chimera is considered 'full range' when they are able to assume all five chimeric shapes, and 'limited range' when they cannot or have not yet to be able to assume all five chimeric shapes. All shifting chimera are able to assume shapes one and five. Additionally, all chimera’s resting shapes are one of these two non-liminal shapes—shape one being the more typical of the two as a resting shape—and individuals of the parties with a resting shape of one or five are referred to as 'shape one aligned' and 'shape five aligned' respectively.

"Posible limited ranges include an individual having access to shapes one and five; shapes one, two, and five; and shapes one, two, three, and five. The latter of these limited ranges is not uncommon for shifting chimera, and has come to be referred to as having a 'four gap.'

"Unlike other shapeshifters, most shifting chimera—especially those with the ability to take liminal shapes—experience an innate need to spend time with both the primal human and the animal sides of their dual nature. For this reason, many of those who are able to feel most comfortable spending the majority of their time in a liminal shape, despite it not being their resting shape, as it attends to this need."

[if-you-believe-me]

Treatise on Antiprimal Expressions in Humans entry on "Chimera"

"An antiprimal which has some features of a normal primal human, but also has some features of another primal (or unaltered) animal."

[if-you-believe-me]

Treatise on Antiprimal Expressions in Humans entry on "Human"

"The meaning of the word 'human' has become increasingly unclear, and trying to assign an effective and inoffensive definition of what makes an individual 'human' can be difficult. At this point the accepted definition leans heavily on widely recognized historical theory that all antiprimals (or at least all antiprimal persons—the question of personhood as applied to the sliding scale of perceived sapience being another thorny topic) arose from what are now considered primals (hence the terms 'primal,' referring to the 'first' or 'original' humans and antiprimal of a being who is no longer in that initial state), and so all primal and antiprimal persons are deemed to be human. However, though this definition of the word avoids much of the controversy, it renders the term 'human" relatively useless to the general public as it sits too close to the laymans’ understanding of the word 'person,' and in many ways simply offloads a significant portion of the problem of the debate on to that term, but, as the word 'person' has historically and culturally had a rather ambiguous in definition, society in general seams to find this state of affairs serviceable enough for the time being."

[if-you-believe-me]

Treatise on Antiprimal Expressions in Humans entry on "Primal Humans"

"A human person who exists in a state unaltered by any form of manipulated energies. A primal human may become antiprimal if they sustain a permanent alteration, however, a primal human under temporary alteration is still considered primal as their underlying nature is not altered.

"The terms 'primal human' or 'primal' are also often used to describe shapes, modalities, and features that are reminiscent of a primal human."

[if-you-believe-me]

Treatise on Antiprimal Expressions in Humans entry on "Antiprimals / Antiprimal Humans"

"A human person who exists in a state that has been permanently altered by some form of manipulated energies to vary from that of a primal human. This includes individuals who inherit such altered states by way of parentage."

[if-you-believe-me]

Names for specific zoanthrope types I know so far:

Lycanthrope - wolf zoanthrope (of course. Not that I use them much)

Ailuranthrope - cat zoanthrope

Ornithrope - bird zoanthrope

Traganthrope - goat zoanthrope

Cynanthrope - dog zoanthrope

... and dragons... Which are the exception to the rule regardless, but I'm not sure if some of that is that them being man made or not.

[if-you-believe-me]

Miniature Humanoid Size Ratio

I've done some tests—drawing and cutting out and standing up proportional paper models at different scales—to determine what size I prefer for miniature humanoid people; currently fairies are the only thing in this category that I deal with, but I might play with others some day.

I just know I've got a feeling for the size range that I prefer for this type of stuff, and I wanted to get some numbers for it so I can visualize stuff more clearly by calculating relative sizing (that a normal sized ring is a little bigger than a large diner plate to them etc.—yes, I did just run the numbers on that). I ran one twentieth, one eighteenth, one seventeenth, one sixteenth, one fourteenth, and one twelfth of "normal" size, and I've pretty solidly concluded that I prefer somewhere between one sixteenth and one seventeenth. What's nice about this is it makes the imperial/US customary system useful for once in its existence, since a sixteenth is a standard division of an inch, so I can just go. "okay, something that is three sixteenths of an inch for a normal person will feel like about three inches for a miniature person," and vice versa. It's ironically convenient, and I can't help but wonder if being raised with this messed up measuring system made me subconsciously predisposed to like this ratio somehow. I'm still wondering if I like the inverse of the situation too, i.e. if my ideal size for giant beings is sixteen times that of a normal human. I'm finding it harder to wrap my head around comparisons in that direction, but I have always been good at understanding "objects" and bad at understanding "spaces," and when you get into sizes of 90 feet etc. you're definitely flirting with the "spaces" end of things. Especially when dealing with height, which I have almost no awareness of. From the numbers I've run so far, though, I'm inclined to believe that it's pretty close to the sweet spot for me in that direction too. I guess it's probably pretty normal to like the same ratio in either direction—that makes sense.

[if-you-believe-me]

Story on Layaway: Winterhouse

A story idea From a dream—and subsequent half dreams—that I had today, in which a thirty-something Thomas Brodie-Sangster was cast as the male lead, probably to some degree from my brain mashing up his roles in The Queen’s Gambit and The Artful Dodger, and maybe his role as Whitey Winn—none of which I have watched more than small bits of.

There is a big old farmhouse and barn on a few acres of farmland, visible from a major highway, but with a strange sense of being its own little world, slightly removed from time. This estate is called Winterhouse.

The land is used to raise grains, and goats, and an expansive flower garden of roses, lavender, camomile, and various herbs. The house is two sprawling, spacious floors and a dug out cellar hidden below. The whole thing is a soft grey-white, not because it is ever painted, but because the wood it’s made of is so bleached and dry that it's taken on that colorless color of driftwood. The largest room takes up almost half the ground floor, supported by two rows of beams breaking up its expanse, and is always referred to as “the parlor”. A store is kept in the parlor selling breads and spiced baked goods, cheeses, tisanes, soaps, and posies and wreaths of dried flowers to tourists passing through the area; all of it made the old fashioned way, just as the farm is kept the old fashioned way—save for a few small tractors—but no big machinery. And both farm and store are kept by the same people who live in the rest of the big old farmhouse: a rotating group of six to twelve beautiful girls and young women, and one mysterious young man. As the people in the closest bits and pieces of civilization call them: Chutney and his harem.

And the big barn just to the side of the house is where they dance.

During the day they spend their time tending to the farm and the store, but in the early mornings before the sun comes up, and in the evenings after the sun goes down, Chutney trains his girls in the art of dance. Festivals are held at Winterhouse for each equinox and solstice, and on festival evenings the big barn is lavishly decorated and the girls don beautiful costumes and concerts are put on showcasing their skill. Locals come to the festivals to buy and sell their own harvests and wares and go to the concerts from a sense of morbid curiosity for this taboo establishment, tourists come because they are tourists and don't know better, and other people come from the big city just over an hour's drive away—and often from places even further afoot —to watch a calibur and artistry of dance that they have never seen anywhere else. Several of these people are very serious practitioners and/or teachers of the art who come to study, and marvel at, and pay homage to this impossible phenomenon of an exceptional troupe of dancers all expertly trained by one man in the middle of nowhere.

During the rest of the year students from the city, or tourists, or local men who think they are viewing something salacious, are allowed to enter the enigmatic barn of an evening—for a small fee—and watch the girls go through their paces. Despite this, Chutney always runs these practices in strict pragmatism and order, and always ensures that the onlookers give his girls space and treat them with respect.

Locally, Winterhouse is thought of as a house of sin in a rather conservative community. All the locals “know” it is secretly a brothel, though there has never been any actual evidence of such activities, and “good people” won't touch the place with a ten-foot pole outside of the festivals which, much to the community's chagrin, are a very real part of keeping their rural area alive and prosperous.

Chutney's girls range in age from thirteen to their early thirties—which, of course, only makes the house's infamous reputation worse. Some are rebellious or frightened runaways from nearby rural communities, some are women trying to escape from or erase their past, and some are beggars and outcasts from the city. But on rare occasions Chutney will spot a girl who is passing through and will give the signal to his harem to spirit her away from the family or friends she's traveling with. A lawman might see this as kidnaping, but the girl it happens to will always see it as a rescue. Chutney has an eye to know a person in trouble, and he won't stand for it. If the situation isn't right for him and his harem to step in themselves, he'll send word to a chain of friends both near and far to get them the help they need, even if it may be somewhat unorthodox and/or varying shades of legal.

No one is ever called by their given name once they enter Winterhouse. And the locals would be very surprised to learn that Chutney has never touched a single one of his girls. In fact he’s made quite certain that no one has touched any of his girls and lived to tell the tale unless it was her idea first. But these girls are no fragile little porcelain dolls, and he rarely has to do the dirty work to look after them, as they have no problem standing up for themselves and each other, and gently teaching any timid new recruits to do the same. To add to that, all their demanding farm work and dance rehearsal makes them tough as nails in a physical sense as well.

The girls stay at Winterhouse as long as they need it—until they know where they want to go and are ready to leave. Often they are put in contact with an accomplished teacher, or mentor or employer in their chosen field in the big city—or even Europe on occasion—who no one knew Chutney had contact with and who often appears to actually consider him a close and valuable friend. Other times they move on to make a life with a man who saw them for who they are and loved them enough to stick with it despite the overhanging reputation of the house and the refiner’s fire Chutney is likely to put them through. And all of them are given a little nest egg Chutney has been saving for them on their departure—and no girl learns about her nest egg before she leaves.

Chutney himself, of course, is the biggest enigma of the establishment, and even the girls don't generally get to learn his true identity or his past. His appearance is such that he looks like he could be the age of most of his girls—anything between seventeen to thirty-five—although the mustache he keeps helps the guesses stay north of twenty. But the truth of the matter is that Chutney—which, of course isn't his given name—has been running Winterhouse for several generations, and he himself is even older than that.

More than a century ago he spent his youth trying to protect his three sisters—one older and two younger—from their abusive, alcoholic father, and searching for a way for all of them to get out. With Chutney's encouragement and help, the oldest ran away to elope with a good man she had fallen in love with and settled in a town several miles away, but as she and Chutney were arranging plans for the younger two to follow her, their father found out and the subsequent beating was so violent that the second youngest was killed and Chutney ended up killing his father in defense and enraged grief.

Afterward, the youngest went to live with the oldest sister and her husband, and Chutney went on the run. He begged and stole his way further and further from home and closer and closer to the coast, until eventually—in his desire to travel as far away as he could—he stowed away on a boat to Europe.

He was becoming exceptionally good at using his charm and quick wit to get himself anything he needed or wanted, and ended up bouncing around Europe, gaining scads of friends from all walks of life, learning a myriad of trades and skills while never quite doing an honest day’s work, and doing a little Robin Hood-ing for the benefit of his less fortunate friends on the side, until finally he was introduced to, and fell in love with, the art of dance. He dedicated his life to studying it and searched out, and conned his way into working with, the greatest masters he could in the various styles and schools of the art that Europe had to offer. And all this time he inexplicably never aged a day.

Eventually, realising that no one would connect a young-looking man with the boy who had killed his father several decades ago, he decided to return home to the states and—perhaps in some mixture of love and defiance—he bought the big old farmhouse that he had grown up in, named Winterhouse.

[if-you-believe-me]

Bella Mae's Designs

I recently watched a video from a costume creator on YouTube called Bella Mae's Designs.

It's an overview of several New Zealand related costumes Bella Mae made over a short period of time, good many of which are from The Chronicles of Narnia. Her videos are sometimes a little on the long side for me, so I'm not as well versed in her content as I might be, but one thing I love about her work is her attention to accuracy when she makes cosplays. She's pickey about her fabrics—the weight, the patterns, the textures, the colors—in a way I haven't seen any other cosplayer be; for example in the video in question, despite her short deadline, she ends up WEAVING HER OWN FABRIC because she couldn't find any on the market that she liked well enough for her project. It was hilariously on brand for her.

But it's not just the "wow she's so detailed" or "wow it's so accurate" that I like about her, it's the way she attends to the detail. She’s not like your average cosplayer who does whatever they need to do to make the finished costume read well, including taking many a clever shortcut and often a compromise or two. Don’t get me wrong: I'm ALL for efficient work and doing what's effective, and I agree with and even admire the people making these cosplay decisions because they're exactly the right decisions to make in doing what they're aiming to do, so hats off to them. But that's not her style. Neither is she like your historically accurate costumer who emphasizes using the original or accurate processies in making their product—which, again, are very cool and valid decisions to make, are the right decisions to fill the aims of the people making them, and I have great respect for them and their craft. But, while Bella Mae will do things the hard way, she only does it when she has to in a broader way than the historical bunch. For that matter she will also take her own shortcuts, but in a more contained way than your con cosplayers. Both of these because the product she gets out of her work is slightly different than the work of either of these two camps. In my interpretation, she seems concentrated on creating a complete and compelling object, and for me this is really exciting. Because while I love, and often relate to, the creative work and process that goes into creating a cosplay, I happen to be a person who also doesn't resonate with the end goal of wearing a costume to embody a character. And, while I cotton a little more to it, I'm also not brought to life by the idea that something was made just the way in might have been in such-and-such time, place, or context. Hers is a type of costuming that I understand. Or maybe a better way to say it is that this is a type of costuming I can see myself participating in. It's not as much about wearing it or embodying a character or having a connection to a setting or cuture as having a physical object celebrating this thing you love. Again, this is my interpretation of the way Bella Mae works, and I'm well aware that she may feel very differently about her process and goals. Nor do I think that there's anything wrong with the traditional costuming mentalities, it's just not something that works for me. And it's fun and exciting to see something that does. And, in this particular video that brought these thoughts to mind, I was furthermore surprised by the feeling of fulfilment I got of seeing someone spend so much time and effort specifically on something that I love.

The Chronicles of Narnia, while well known, isn't something that gets a lot of "fandom" type attention. Frankly a lot of the stuff I love most deeply doesn't get a lot of that type of attention. I kind of assume that that is because most of the other people who love these things are a little like me and aren't really into, and so don't really DO, much of the typical fandom things over what they're into. Or maybe they're just tough things to get into in that way. Who knows. But watching someone pour hours of time into weaving fabric to make Susan's purple dress from Prince Caspian like it was a totally normal thing to do? It was really sweet for me. It made me feel good. And as someone who is constantly consuming content of fans making stuff—sometimes for things I really do like—this feeling surprised me, because I'd never felt it before. It was almost like I got to let her take my love of this thing and cary it for me for a while. Not as a burden, but as a torch or a baton: I got to pass it and watch it move forward from the outside for a while, and it was a gratifying view. I felt taken care of somehow; it was special.

All this to say, I suppose, that I really enjoyed this video, and that I'm grateful for people doing things in their own honest, unique way. Because the irony of human connection is that when we stop trying to be like others and simply are ourselves we find more belonging than we could ever get by trying to belong.

Here is the link to the mentioned video, if you are interested:

[if-you-believe-me]

Andrew Clements and Human Nature

I'm currently listening to Andrew Clements' Lost and Found and—as I have been so many times before—I'm absolutely enchanted with his nuanced understanding and expression of human nature. I love how smart his characters are—even when they're making stupid decisions, they're smart—because Clements knows that humans are smart. I love how they scheme—even when they're doing the right things for the best of reasons they're getting it done by scheming—because Clements knows that having an agenda is human and that agendas can be good. But of course never perfect, because they are human. And best of all Clements knows that when a person uses their smarts to scheme their way into putting their good but imperfect agenda into action and things go awry—because things will go awry—and blow up in everyone's face, they are still smart and good and imperfect. Because they are human. And humans are smart, and good, and imperfect and this is what makes them wonderful. A person doesn't grow from an experience because they are stupid or bad or broken—they grow because they are this wonderful thing called a human who is built to reach for something better, and deserves all the good things they are able to grasp and let into their life. And maybe it's a bit of a lofty thing for an adult to take away from a fun little middle grade novel, but human nature is smart, and human nature is good, and human nature is imperfect. Humans are schemers, and dreamers, and stumblers, and growers, and wonderful. Humans are wonderful. And—heaven bless him—Clements knows it.

[if-you-believe-me]

Realization: I have never done anything close to a full face of makeup, and I have absolutely no clue what I would look like with one. Like, what does a contoured Sarah even look like?

Despite this, I still have no desire to wear a full face of makeup. Like ever 😋😆

[if-you-believe-me]

Mud Days

All food has an amount of earthiness to it—I assume because ultimately it all comes from the earth—and sometimes I will get to a place where I can’t stand to put another piece of earth in my mouth.

Everything tastes and feels like some variation of mud, and I become very aware of the fact that the body I'm in is just as mud-like as all the things I put into it, and I can’t drink enough water or breath enough air to offset this feeling of mud. Eventually—and often gradually and without my noticing—this feeling will leave me, and the individual flavors and textures of food will open up again to a full color palette, and I won't think so much about being in a body, and on good days being in a body will open up into its own full palette of color. I try not to think about the mud days when I'm not in them because I don't want to go back there.