pim-leepet

[pim-leepet]

A long time ago I was in a typography class and I had an assignment to draw a word out of its material. Like writing "Rock" and drawing it to make it look like it's carved from stone. I chose "Hair" and I was proud enough of the result that I ended up posting it online to Twitter. Whoever I showed it to online, I got a weird reaction like "Oh...cool." which was strange cuz I was expecting to get complimented on it. It turned out that no one thought it was a drawing. For months, everyone I showed it to thought that I was playing with wet hair clippings in my spare time like some nasty little freak.

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this is the type of work they’re gonna make high school art students study in ten years

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Today I had privilege over a white woman.

Just- not for the reasons you may think.

There was a service dog team boarding the plane ahead of us. Normally I just give the usual ~6-10ft of space so we aren't crowding two dogs right next to each other when they need to work- but I noticed something. Her dog was fairly young, and while he was behaving he kept stopping to look behind so he could see us. She, however, didn't look around at all, just asked him what the problem was and to move forward. To which he complied, but then would stop and look at us again after a couple steps.

I called out that I was behind her with a service dog of my own, and that her dog was behaving but definitely distracted by mine, so if she would like I could give them more space. Initially she tried to say no, that wasn't necessary- but then her dog stopped to turn around again. She said that he was new, and that she hadn't expected him to be so unnerved by another dog.

We were the first two to board with a long line of people behind us. I told her no worries, take the time she needs, the plane won't leave without us and we're boarding with plenty of time to spare. That I noticed she didn't look around when her dog turned and recognized the style of harness and assumed she had a vision related disability and wanted to let her know what he was struggling with so she could adjust. That I would keep my distance so he could properly guide her onto the plane. I asked the people behind me to give us a moment so she could board safely. Everyone agreed to it- surprising at 5am and especially because the family immediately behind me had young children I could hear them teaching about what service dogs are- and equally called encouragements for her to go at her own pace.

She said as she walked with more confidence now that her dog was focused again, that she actually had no vision whatsoever and had just been placed with this dog to assist her via an organization.

She was able to board without further interruptions and then I let her know when I walked by her so she could make sure she understood her dog's reaction to mine. She thanked me for that, and for the assistance with boarding.

I waited until she was off the plane to gather my dog and my things.

But I wanted to talk about privilege- you see, while we both have a disability, mine affects me overall far less. It's a 100% fact that with testosterone, I barely have need for a service dog at all, and only bring one as a "just in case", similar to the cane I keep in my car that I haven't touched in a year. This woman is completely blind- her disability affects her in a much more immediate and drastic way.

As a more seasoned handler and team, I have more confidence to demand accessibility considerations. As a man, I'm more readily listened to. As someone with a large, dark colored dog- I even have the mythical "scary dog privilege" where her cute and friendly waggy lab might not. So when I say, give this lady space for her dog to do his job, as someone with a clearly marked, well behaved dog who can see what the problem is, those behind me stopped dead in their tracks and listened.

This is a social privilege in action. As a confident, cis-male-presenting, sighted person with a well behaved dog, this nervous blind woman struggling with her dog needed someone in her corner to advocate for her while she figured out what she needed to do to get her dog back on track.

My privilege over her in this moment is not an example of oppression. It could have been- had I not realized the issue and taken action to help, had I pushed past her, had I started heckling her about her dog's behavior or her own handling. But it is something that I don't need to consider in my everyday life- after all, I'm not the one totally reliant on a dog to tell me if my surroundings are safe, and my need for a dog is very small these days besides.

And- it's changeable.

During my bus trip with Creed back when I was more reliant on him, and he was still alive, I had several bus passengers pitch a fit about having to tolerate a dog on the bus. Despite his good behavior and his clearly marked vest, it was decided by several seats around me that his presence was a problem. Until an old white man in a wheelchair was put on the same bus, and yelled at them for being so intolerant.

I once caught an old white man as he stepped into the mall I was also entering to shop, and fell back against me while having a seizure. I stayed with him until paramedics arrived. I have no idea who he was. An older white woman interrupted AKC staff at a show they were harassing me about my service dog gear- she was a friend of a friend, though a stranger to me at that time. She died a few months later from complications of a lifelong addiction.

And I think this sort of situation is one that this website does not often consider. Between two under-privileged people, social privilege can change on a whim depending on context and the exact intersections at play for *all* involved.

But instead of doing a thought experiment based on theory, tell me. How do you act when you experience this situation in person? Do you have it in you to step in for someone that needs help, regardless of what demographics you or they represent?

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I think the solution to kids on the Internet is to have specific, kid friendly spaces on the Internet. Kids wouldn't come across "adult content" on YouTube if barbie dot com still had flash games and this is a hill I will die on.

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being called "cringe" by another tumblr user is just so..............my sibling in christ u are also on the app

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hey. hey. tell me something good that happened today. doesn’t matter how small

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"One of the coolest examples of creative living that I’ve seen in recent years, for instance, came from my friend Susan, who took up figure skating when she was forty years old. To be more precise, she actually already knew how to skate. She had competed in figure skating as a child and had always loved it, but she’d quit the sport during adolescence when it became clear she didn’t have quite enough talent to be a champion. (Ah, lovely adolescence—when the “talented” are officially shunted off from the herd, thus putting the total burden of society’s creative dreams on the thin shoulders of a few select souls, while condemning everyone else to live a more commonplace, inspiration-free existence! What a system . . . )

For the next quarter of a century, my friend Susan did not skate. Why bother, if you can’t be the best? Then she turned forty. She was listless. She was restless. She felt drab and heavy. She did a little soul-searching, the way one does on the big birthdays. She asked herself when was the last time she’d felt truly light, joyous, and—yes—creative in her own skin. To her shock, she realized that it had been decades since she’d felt that way. In fact, the last time she’d experienced such feelings had been as a teenager, back when she was still figure skating. She was appalled to discover that she had denied herself this life-affirming pursuit for so long, and she was curious to see if she still loved it.

So she followed her curiosity. She bought a pair of skates, found a rink, hired a coach. She ignored the voice within her that told her she was being self-indulgent and preposterous to do this crazy thing. She tamped down her feelings of extreme self-consciousness at being the only middle-aged woman on the ice, with all those tiny, feathery nine-year-old girls.

She just did it.

Three mornings a week, Susan awoke before dawn and, in that groggy hour before her demanding day job began, she skated. And she skated and skated and skated. And yes, she loved it, as much as ever. She loved it even more than ever, perhaps, because now, as an adult, she finally had the perspective to appreciate the value of her own joy. Skating made her feel alive and ageless. She stopped feeling like she was nothing more than a consumer, nothing more than the sum of her daily obligations and duties. She was making something of herself, making something with herself.

It was a revolution. A literal revolution, as she spun to life again on the ice—revolution upon revolution upon revolution . . .

Please note that my friend did not quit her job, did not sell her home, did not sever all her relationships and move to Toronto to study seventy hours a week with an exacting Olympic-level skating coach. And no, this story does not end with her winning any championship medals. It doesn’t have to. In fact, this story does not end at all, because Susan is still figure skating several mornings a week—simply because skating is still the best way for her to unfold a certain beauty and transcendence within her life that she cannot seem to access in any other manner. And she would like to spend as much time as possible in such a state of transcendence while she is still here on earth."

From : BIG MAGIC - creative living beyond fear. By Elizabeth Gilbert.

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stating to think there’s an inverse correlation between how good media is and how easily fandomizable it is 😁

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“Brothers help!”

(via)

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why do we bother with I hate my partner jokes when your boss is right there

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Source

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forgetfulness is wild because sometimes its "oops silly me i left the house without my wallet again" and sometimes its "my friend is trying to reminisce on a thing we did together and the fact its jogging nothing in my brain is genuinely kind of distressing"

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I thought Old Man Yaoi was like a specific person or entity. Like you walk down to the river, there’s Old Man Consequences, you walk down to the oak tree there’s Old Man Sensibility, and then you walk into the gay club and you’ll never guess who it is

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and for the rest of your life you will be haunted by the meal you had 7 years ago at a now closed restaurant. but you get the rest of your life to try to replicate it

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Hey, if you do crafts (especially things like crochet, knitting, embroidery, etc), make sure to look up how to identify when a listing is AI generated. You do NOT want to waste money on an incredible looking kit or pattern that is physically impossible to make, especially if you're on sites like etsy hoping to support an actual artist.

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One of my roommates cannot stand the way I play minecraft

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