Hate to be a bummer, but. I've been struggling and want to talk a little.
Let me preface this with the fact that I have always struggled with emotion, intimacy, and connecting with people. It was either to difficult to connect with them or I connected to quickly and intensely.
As I grew, I had an unfortunate interaction resulting in a fear of men. I could talk to them, but there was a deep rejection of any and all physical contact. I could still hug my family members, but contact with any man I hadn't had in my life for all of my life was suddenly scary.
I. . .resigned myself at a young age that I probably would never marry. At the very least, struggle with developing a connection of intamcy with a partner. But that was okay. Because I could have friends - and friends could be my "forever".
So. When I became an adult and made those friends that felt natural. Whose connection was gradual but all consuming - whose intensity in the friendship matched mine? I'd thought like I'd found my forever.
Then. We all grew up.
They didn't have the issues I had. So they found partners and spouses, had children.
I didn't. All I have, had, was them. And I've had to come to realization that although they'll always come first for me. . . I will never be the first choice or highest priority for them.
And I am NOT mad or begrudging them for that.
It is natural for their family to come first and they as wonderful people so obviously that's what they do. They deserve that loyalty and love.
I am inexplicably happy that they have that.
And I love them. I will always want that happiness, support that happiness, for them.
To see them in love and happy and so intensely bright in that is beautiful beyond compare.
And I will always, ALWAYS, support their happiness.
Even if, sometimes, that means leaving me behind.
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my mother taught me to crochet when i was young. she was left handed, so she taught me how in the bathroom mirror so her hands would be in the right position.
she learned to crochet from her grandmother, who was right handed. her grandma was the one that originally used the bathroom mirror to teach her granddaughter properly.
i find something poetic about that. here in this bathroom mirror, through generations, we adapt to our young who have a different way of learning and interacting with the world
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This is a subject that really interests me because I (28 years old) had computer classes in grade school where learning how to efficiently type was a big focus. As a result I have a very high WPM (words per minute) count and am an excellent touch typer.
However, I've heard that they started phasing out computer classes in a lot of schools because it's assumed that kids/teenagers already know how to use a computer in this day and age. But smartphones are more popular than computers now, and as result a lot of Gen Z/Gen Alpha kids are able to text very quickly but their typing skills aren't as good.
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it's so confusing to see things that used to be bigger than you. i used to sit on the top of the ladder. now my hips cant fit in. i used to lay on my brother's skateboard as if it was a bed. how did those small shoes fit on me? those clothes? that bed? what about the marking in the doorway, showing me how quickly i grew up? when did i get so big?
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You ever watch something that hits too close to home?
Reminds me of old conversations. That last part tho, sometimes what people want changes. If a man even thinks about hitting me or being violent during, it's a show stopper. Don't hurt me like that. NO. Funny what self love & confidence can do for a woman.
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
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