romanakeysmash - Tumblr blog

[romanakeysmash]

My brother just posed this question at family dinner

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watching Seven Samurai

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i saw your post giving advice to 21 year olds. What would you tell a 24 year old that feels empty and very very alone?

I would say that that feeling is natural and normal; that particularly as we're changing phase from one part of our lives to another, it's easy to feel detached from everyone else and distant from any good thing that could buoy us, as if we're floating alone in a dark sea. I would say that you don't need to struggle against that feeling, you don't need to fight it and twist yourself up with it, because it is not a net to pull you under, it's just a cloud that will pass over you and be gone, and the air will clear again, and you will be able to look up and see stars.

Loneliness and lack of connection are a big part of being human. I mean, it's almost certainly not just a human thing; sometimes my cat, Wanjinyou, wakes up late at night after playing downstairs, and realizes he's all alone, and he walks around the first floor of the house yowling sadly until one of us sits up in bed and shouts "Sweet boy, what's going on? What is the matter?" And he'll let out the happiest, most surprised chirp and race up the stairs to be with us. There are people who want to be connected to you, or who are connected to you now even though those strands feel thin and tenuous, and if you called out to them, they would say "Hey, come over here and sit down with me," and do the human-equivalent of petting you behind your ears until you were comfortable enough to fall asleep again. Those people exist for you in real life. You might not know them really well yet, you might not even have met the ones who will be your dearest friends, but they exist.

Sometimes we just have to breathe deep, in and out, and let the water lift us until the clouds pass over. Sometimes we have to yowl in the night, and listen for someone to call us up to sleep.

And--trying not to be too twee, I would say that it's a miracle you exist, an incredible diceroll that brought you into being, in this place where you and I can have this moment of connection across who knows how many miles. A little magical, to be a human here and now. Even if it's difficult, and heavy sometimes (particularly at about three AM, which is the time where I am). Connections exist for you to make, and to strengthen, and that's just such an incredible thing, that we have so many different ways to be human with other humans. I hope that you could look into the future a little, at a future you with greater happiness, and borrow just a little from them, think about the life they'll have and comfort yourself that you are unerringly pointed toward it; I promise that future you wouldn't mind, and in a decade will look back at this you with an absolute willingness to share.

[romanakeysmash]

so interesting how each of les amis represents a different facet of hugo’s ideology. enjolras is republicanism as whole; combeferre, the importance of education and scientific progress; courfeyrac, being a chill guy who fucks; grantaire, yapping…

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Stargate SG-1 as text posts (part 2)

(part 1) • (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (☆)

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Dutch artist, Redmer Hoekstra.

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“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and it was the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

[romanakeysmash]

invented a game called “I throw dice at the cat”

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dear Wazzer and Duchess Annagovia, commission for Alejandra ♥

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(Part one of Swan Comic About the Yearning! This one is a little autobiographical but it was at the top of my mind at the moment. This marks an incredible $200 raised for the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund. Fundraising link here.) thanks for your support for this important cause and thanks for being my friend on here.)

[romanakeysmash]

I have to change my strategy of recommending The Left Hand of Darkness to people. When I start with the plot summary most of the people think that I'm recommending it to them for Gender Reasons and quickly lose interest.

The truth is that I don't even care that much about the whole Gender part, I'm just obsessed with Ai as a character and Estraven as a character and Ai's and Estraven's relationship and the whole "surviving the ice desert together" thing and the whole "I know exactly what the core part of my life was and I know that it is over and there is no going back and I have to live with the fact that it is over and all the implications of it" part and have I mentioned Ai's and Estraven's relationship (and its queerplatoniceness and the fact that sex would literally made it worse) and...

Anyway, go read The Left Hand of Darkness

for gender reasons or something

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my uncle was somewhat of a rascal. we were hanging out on the roof of his barn when i was ten, and we saw some shooting stars. he told me they were angels carrying messages from god. then he handed me his old hunting rifle and taught me how to nick one out of the sky, even when it was travelling all fast like that, and how to triangulate its location — taking me out in his rusty truck down dirt roads, unerring and unceasing, until we saw that gleaming lantern. he pocketed the note from god and took me down to a pinboard where he was working on deciphering the language with his friend who was a linguistics major but got kicked out of grad school. after they shook hands, they held on for just a bit too long and i started wondering why my aunt doesn’t live with my uncle anymore, but then my uncle took me back up stairs and taught me how to fry the angel up real nice, halo and all. it was tasty

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Fuck that post going around saying "you can have coffee in your story without justifying it :) you don't need to explain everything :)" I want, no, I DEMAND a fully researched ethnobotanical paper on every single food item in your work, if you don't explain to me where did potatoes come from in your fantasy setting or don't explain how the industry of coffee works over interstellar distances with full detail you are doing things wrong and I personally hate you and I hate your stupid story, fuck you