sleepywolfe

[sleepywolfe]

clown around town

[sleepywolfe]

[sleepywolfe]

3. Instinct

[sleepywolfe]

Absolutely wild to me how sometimes you don't even realize the way you'd been taught to perceive things as a kid was kinda fucked up, actually, until decades later.

Example:

As a kid, I constantly lived in fear of damaging shit in my parent's house. The walls. The floors (especially the floors. The wood was beautiful. Shiny. But so easy to scratch). The cabinets.

As a sixteen-year-old, I once took my car to the dealership after work and paid a very dear sum of $250 ($10/hr cashier salary) to fix a slight scratch in the paint because I knew if my father saw it there would be hell to pay. It didn't matter that I parked far out, like I'd been taught, and someone scratched it anyway. It was my fault. I failed in my duties as a steward of my vehicle.

Every time I scratched a rim on a curb while parallel parking or got a door ding or, god forbid, didn't wash and vacuum that car every weekend, it was treated like some sort of moral failing.

Last year, when my husband and I first moved into our house, he scraped the side of our car when parking in our (Very Narrow) garage. When he told me, my first instinct was to be afraid for him. Like something terrible was going to happen to him because of this mistake. I urgently reassured him that it was okay, it was an accident, I wasn't mad. Baffled, he was like, "Yeah? I know? Like, thank you for the reassurance, but I'm only a little annoyed, I'm not upset. It's just a car." And I had to take several minutes to process that. It's...just a car.

We keep the car tidy. We maintain it. But we wash it maybe 4x a year. We only vacuum it after dirty road trips or when the dog hair starts to get annoying. It has scrapes and dings and the leather seats have stains. But that's ok. Because it's just a car.

This morning, I realized that a small rock had gotten embedded in the felt foot on one of our bar stools. Neither of us had noticed. There are now scratches on our beautiful hardwood floor. My immediate response was fear accompanied by a heavy measure of paralyzing guilt. "I'm so sorry," I told my husband, "I should have noticed. I'll figure out how to fix it, I swear. I can probably sand down that section and match the stain and--"

"Whoa, hey," he said. "It was an accident. And it's fine. Floors are going to get damaged. They're floors. We live here. There was damage in places before we even bought the house, remember? It's not a big deal. It's just a floor." Right. It's just a floor. Right.

My husband's mom is visiting and this afternoon, as I was sitting in the kitchen looking at the scratches on the floor, I offhandedly asked her if my husband had ever broken or damaged anything as a kid. "Of course," she said. Household items. A TV. A wrecked car during his teen years. I asked how she punished him.

"Why would I punish him for things like that?" she said. "They were all accidents."

Right. Of course. Right.

[sleepywolfe]

[sleepywolfe]

[sleepywolfe]

[sleepywolfe]

people who can do lineart never cease to amaze me. that's a shapes and you made it a lines. incredible

[sleepywolfe]

[sleepywolfe]

Foie Graphics

[sleepywolfe]

chairman and her very special citizen <3

[sleepywolfe]

danganronpa

[sleepywolfe]

IT FUCKIN YURI DAAAAAAAAAAAY

[sleepywolfe]

blowjob? more like nojob! #unemployed

[sleepywolfe]

Forty thousand years of human civilization. It has seen the rise and fall of empires, it has had war after war, crusdae after crusade. Even now, with the wonder and horror of the warp clawing at the doorstep, even as a demigod sits as a corpse upon the golden throne, even as the Imperium continues to grow and revel in its divine fervor, one dubious establishment remains a portend to ages past. Tucked away in corners, absolutely rejected by the Adeptus Mechanicus for its profane and dangerous practice, one can still go and get their bionic implants and whatever garish form of flair best suits their means. Walk in a proud member of the God Emperor's humaity and walk out a survivor ... of Claire's.

[sleepywolfe]

we did an exercise in a clown class where we had to organize all the people in the class on a spectrum of "low status" to "high status," based on how we usually played, and i was voted "the most high status clown." i was shocked! what! but the more i thought about it afterwards, the more it made sense... yes... i'm a mark corrigan type of clown... a jiminy glick type of clown... i tend to "play" in a very bossy know-it-all way (like when i was a kid) but what's fun about clowning is that i can be *aware* of this tendency and let the stupidity and fallibility seep through. that's what makes these types of characters so funny. embracing being both so smart and so dumb.