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justalittlesolarpunk · 10 months

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hey!! feel free to ignore this but i scrolled through your blog and really liked it and if you have the spoons I'd love to get your advice/tips on trying to live sustainably while in uni/on a limited budget? I'm going to uni in a year or so and I want to try and do it as sustainably as possible but I don't have a lot of money

love your blog <3

Hi! Thanks so much for the kind words, I am super new to tumblr and fairly new to solarpunk still myself, so I really appreciate it.

I’ll level with you: most of the really aspirational choices in sustainability are pretty expensive. Buying local organic food or slow fashion can really eat into a budget. The good news is that a lot of the frugal decisions you’d make are also good for the planet. You’re not going to be going out buying expensive cars, flying in private jets or any of the other earth-wrecking things that the super-rich do. Being conscious about your spending will mean you’ll probably naturally gravitate towards getting your clothes from charity shops and other similar money-saving choices. In some cities and certain supermarkets, plant-based food will be cheaper, while in others it will be more expensive, and so for this you’ll probably need to make choices on a case by case basis, weighing up each time how much you can afford and how committed you are to a certain diet. Getting a library card is also very solarpunk - free, communally owned knowledge! As a uni student you’ll likely also have your university library as a resource, which it’s definitely worth making use of. Have a look to see if there’s a tool library/library of things in your university town, as that will not only save you money but also reduce your purchase of things you might only use once or twice. Apps like TooGoodToGo offer cheap baskets of food from local restaurants, cafes and shops which would otherwise go to waste at the end of the day, and if there’s a ‘buy nothing’ or ‘stuff for free’ Facebook group for your local area it’s worth joining it - these are really exciting anticapitalist digital spaces where people can get what they need and dispose of what they don’t without exploitative or extractive relationships.

Starting a new paragraph here for readability, and also because it’s slightly a topic change - there are things you can do to be more sustainable that are fairly cash-cheap, but time-costly. As a student you won’t always be able to devote much energy to them between your studies and your social life, but if they’re something that’s important to you and your other commitments (or any disabilities you might have) don’t prevent you, then things like mending your own clothes instead of throwing them out and replacing them can help. But these are fiddly tasks so that isn’t possible for everyone, even if they do have time! Depending on the rules of your student accommodation you could also try having certain edible houseplants - salad leaves, strawberries, herbs, etc. My success rate with these has been very patchy but it’s worth a shot and the original outlay for seeds or a small plant isn’t too much (though if you’re planting from scratch, soil can be expensive as it always seems to come in enormous great bags).

Things like batch cooking or planning communal meals with other people you’re living with can also be greener, and cheaper, if it means food can be made to go further and wasted ingredients can be avoided. Uni is a really exciting time for a solarpunk because it’s the closest to cohousing many of us get - sharing facilities and responsibilities in a close-knit community of non-related people with common goals and experiences. Use this to your advantage to form networks of mutual support.

Similar caveat about time scarcity as above, but there are also things that tend not to cost any money that will make you feel better about your own environmental contribution which you can actually do at any age if you have enough free hours. These are things like volunteering with your local conservation volunteers or in a community garden - this latter is particularly good because volunteers might get to take home some of the produce, thereby saving money and getting access to local nutritious food. Some unis even have their own food gardens and teams of students who help tend them, so get involved with this if it exists and you can.

In the same vein, almost every uni will have its own climate justice or environmental student club, and attending these meetings if your schedule allows can be a great way to meet other people within your institution who share your priorities, and who may well have more advice on frugal, sustainable living that they can offer. Pooling wisdom like this means your can all do better.

It sounds like you might have already picked your uni, but if not there are factors you can consider to help you do better in these goals when you get there, like examining the relative cost of living in different cities or investigating how eco-friendly the university is. It’s worth asking questions like what is their endowment invested in? How much research into climate change and solutions do they fund? Are their careers services still promoting fossil fuel industry jobs?

University towns are usually pretty walkable and/or bike-friendly, at least in the UK and Europe, and these modes of transport are also the cheapest and most sustainable. Plenty also have good public transport too, and buses or hireable scooters are all options (though you’d probably have to use the scooters a lot to make the expense worth it, and if you do, please don’t leave them lying in the pavement like people did when I was at uni - it blocked wheelchair access and was really annoying). Certain cities have trams, which are like catnip to solarpunks lol. Transport can get expensive but tends to still be cheaper than driving in most urban centres, though as I said your own two feet or wheels can probably get you to most of where you need to go within the local area.

Your student’s union might well also run clothing swaps or second-hand book sales, so keep an eye on that and go along when you can. There’s also nothing to be ashamed of in collecting discount codes, coupons for free products, or loyalty cards, or with working if you have the time and ability to earn while you study. The more money you save the more of those slightly costlier green decisions you can make.

What I’d say last, though, is don’t be too hard on yourself! You’re young, the world is set up to be excessively expensive and to reward you for consumptive behaviour that is the opposite of ecological values. Of course you should try your best and I’m so glad that you’re thinking of it already, but remember that you probably won’t be able to do it perfectly - that pretty much no-one can unless they have insane amounts of time and money (in which case they’re probably not the kind of person who cares about this stuff). Remember to enjoy your new independence, to hang out with your friends, to be studious and whimsical and learn about life and yourself. And remember that I’m just one person and not all my ideas will apply to you, and there’ll be other things you could do that haven’t occurred to me because of the specific experiences and biases that inform where I come from.

You probably already know which subject you’re studying, and if that’s the case then there will be ways you can examine these issues within the curriculum of most degrees (except maybe maths? But I’m willing to be proved wrong haha). But just in case you’re still picking subjects and institutions, I’ll just leave a link to a really fascinating-looking new undergrad qualification I heard about a few months ago, that I am *gutted* not to have been young enough to apply for and study! Even if it isn’t the right fit for you, perhaps you’ll know someone who it could work for. I’m assuming, possibly wrongly, that you’re in the UK based on certain dialectical cues (for instance saying uni rather than college), but feel free to ignore this if you’re elsewhere in the world, I’m just very stoked about this course!

Thanks so much for your ask, and sorry for the insanely long essay response. If you’ve managed to wade through to the end then seriously congratulations on your patience. Best of luck with your studies and with your efforts at ecological living, and I hope you carry solarpunk with you as a source of hope, comfort and action into your future. ☀️

#solarpunk #ask #hopepunk #cottagepunk #frugality #sustainability on a budget #environmentalism #student life #university #infodump

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moriartyluver · 6 months

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ARE YOU MINE PROLOGUE

"SHERLOCK GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

The ravenette sat down on decaying, dusty sofa with a sigh.

"Yeah whatever," He rolled his eyes "You guys know this is my place anyways, don't get too cocky, (name)"

"Isn't this your mother's basement?" John asked from across the room.

(Name) chuckled "I'm surprised your brother hasn't forced you out yet."

Sherlock's brother, Mycroft, was about 7 years older than him and currently working for some government office, although Sherlock described him to have a much more important job than his brother would admit. He even saved him as "The Government" on his phone contacts.

"Oh believe me, come autumn, I'll be gone thanks to that idiot," Sherlock muttered angrily

"Anyways," James interrupted "We did pretty good at that last gig. I think we made about two hundred pounds in total, right (nickname)?"

"It was a children's birthday party. We were playing at one of those soft play centres." She said, narrowing her eyes

"What's wrong with that?" John questioned, his hands wrapped around a couple of drumsticks.

(Name) turned to face him with a glare. "Don't you get it? We have a serious issue with our band image, you dumbfucks."

"Hey no swearing! My mum's up there!" Sherlock warned "And for your information, we are not changing the name!"

"How are we calling our band 'The Baker Street Boys' if our lead singer and guitarist is a girl? It's stupid!" Scoffing, (Name) stood up. "See? When I started this band, I wanted to do something, y'know? Follow my passions, be a little rebellious and make a name for myself, for us!" She said, picking up her brown electric guitar "Instead, we're playing for little kids and using cheap ass instruments like some third rate garage band! Our other guitarist is a mummy's boy who tells people off for swearing, our drummer doesn't even like rock music and would much rather listen to some Frank Sinatra or The Beatles than literally any rock band or something with a little flavour for once, and our bassist doesn't even play the bass! Not to mention the shitty name!"

"The Beatles isn't that bad..." The drummer muttered to himself.

"Oh shut it John." (Name) snapped "My point is, that we don't act like a real rock band! We're just some losers who play instruments and have no purpose in the music industry! I mean, have any of you been on tiktok recently? It's full of wannabe popstars making shitty music and trying to sound like every other artist. I don't want to be following every other quote unquote artist who just makes songs that even rival Dixie Damelio in lack of creativity!"

"She has a point." James agreed with a nod

Her scowl shifted to a determined smile "I have a few ideas on how we can up our game a little and actually be influential, like The Sex Pistols-"

"Yeah but they kind of fell apart pretty quick." Sherlock pointed out "Their singer couldn't sing, their bassist probably killed himself and their guitarist was illiterate."

"And they still made better songs than whatever bullshit you've been cooking up, Sherly." (Name) argued back, pulling out a little notepad from a pocket in her red leather jacket. "Anyways, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I have a few ideas so we can actually make a name for ourselves. First of all, John, stop dressing like a grandpa and put on some eyeliner or something. Same goes for you two," She said, looking at James who was sat cross-legged on the floor, and Sherlock in the sofa. "Sherlock, you dress like a roadman and that's when your mother isn't dressing you. Stop letting her buy you hideous clothes. James, your outfits put Harry Styles to shame. Get rid of those damn shoes."

"But my shoes make me look taller..!" James frowned

"Stop being a whiny bitch." (Name) glared "Second off, we need to start writing out own songs. I've mostly got that covered but I'd like a bit of input every now and then." She turned a page "Number three.." She trailed off "Right, we need to start expanding ourselves a little more. I know we're all loser introverts but if we socialise, we make connections. If we make connections, we can get gigs at proper places and possibly get better venues. I might look into getting a social media manager but I'll just open a tiktok account for the band when I get home, an instagram would work too."

"I thought we didn't want to be tiktok artists?" Sherlock asked with a raised brow

(Name) shook her head "That's different, Sherly. It's just free promo, super easy. It's not like we're singing 'ABCDEFU' or something. I'll just record band rehearsals or announce gigs and stuff. We can probably get at least a few thousand followers. I'll make a spotify too while I'm at it." She took her guitar bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Alright, band meeting's done for now. I'm gonna go back home before my parent's start wondering where I am. Thankfully, it's not that late though.." She looked at her watch. It was only 3:35pm. She'd come home later before and now that it was summer, it wasn't getting dark as fast. She turned on her heel, walking towards the basement door "Bye!"

Upon returning home, (Name) had noticed it was quiet. Too quiet. She shrugged it off though, returning to her bedroom to hide her guitar under her bed or something, but when she had swung the door open, she heard some whispering, and found her parents stood in her room, all her hidden albums and vinyl's and other music stuff scattered around her now mess of a room.

"What the hell..?" She murmured, stepping over the Arctic Monkeys CDs on her bedroom floor, dumping her cheap guitar on the ground

"Care to explain all this, young lady?" Her father asked, holding up a vinyl in his hand. His voice had an angry undertone which made (Name) chuckle nervously.

"Why are you looking through my room?" She asked, thinking of excuses to defend herself

"That's not your business." Her mother chimed in "Since when did you have all.. this? What else have you been doing?"

(Name) swallowed, approaching her parents in an attempt to take back her record player from beside her father. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Her father clenched his teeth, pointing to her guitar on the floor "Don't tell me you're some sort of musician now! What else have you been hiding?"

"Oh nothing," (Name) said sarcastically "Just some heavy drugs, obviously. Now leave me alone!"

"Can't we at least talk about this? What about university? You know you can't make a living out of this!" (Mother's name) exclaimed, pain evident in her voice

"Can we skip to the arguing now if you aren't gonna leave? It's just a hobby I swear, and besides, being in a band's the only thing I like anyways!" She yelled, gathering a bunch of albums in her arms

"You're in a band? A rock band? With who?!"

"None of your bloody business." She stated coldly "Can't you just leave? This is so counterproductive!"

"The only thing counterproductive is this little fantasy of yours, (Name)." Her father opened up an album, inspecting it as if it was something illegal "You're smart. I don't see why you're wasting your time like this! And with rock music of all things!"

"It's not just rock." (Name) muttered "There's some Lana Del Rey mixed up somewhere here too.."

Her father opened his mouth to speak as he stepped back, but before he could utter another word, a harsh crack could be heard echoing throughout (Name)'s bedroom.

"What was that..?" (Name) whispered, then her mouth flew open in realisation as she looked down at her father's foot "Dad! You have got to be shitting me!"

Her father himself was surprised, but instead of admitting his mistake, he tried to make it seem as though it was intentional, a way of teaching his daughter a lesson. "Y-Yeah.. well that's what you deserve for lying to your parents!"

He had stepped on her guitar, breaking it fairly easily. She had known it was cheap and terrible quality, but the guitar did it's job ad that's all that really mattered, but now it was broken. How could she be a guitarist if she didn't have a guitar anymore?

"(Name)-"

Her parents tried to call out to her, but she was gone. (Name) walked out the room, grabbing her bag and jacket before slamming the door, tears welling in her eyes.

It had been half an hour since she left the band meeting, so reasonably, there was the possibility that the others were still at Sherlock's place, considering they didn't have parents restricting what hobbies they could and could not have. She ran to Sherlock's house, which was only a few minutes away, knocking on the door and wiping her tears with her sleeve.

"(Name)? You're back?" Sherlock said, answering the door

Another voice, with an American accent, followed. "(Name)'s back?"

She smiled as the rest of the band crowded at the door. "Yeah, change of plan. We're going to town now, I need to pick something up from Q's"

"I thought you said Q's cost too much?" James asked curiously

For those of you unfamiliar with British shopping culture, in city areas, there's usually a big shopping centre in the middle, a bit like a mega mall but alot more scattered. Most just refer to it as a 'city centre' or more simply 'town' even though it doesn't make much sense. The streets are busy, with the occasional musician playing a guitar or something and the smell of cigarette smoke is everywhere. These shopping centres are quiet useful, especially in big cities like London, because you can find pretty much everything, everywhere.

Q was a music shop in 'town', run by a German bloke called "Von Herder", but naturally, it was quite expensive, especially because of how good the instruments sold there was, and as an unemployed teenage girl (that's debatable considering she's 18), (Name) couldn't afford to buy a certain guitar she had been dying to buy since she had seen it months ago, hence the surprise of James.

"I'll negotiate my way to a lower price, I'm sure it'll be fine." (Name) smiled, althought she doubted she could.

Sherlock shook his head "No you're not. We have that money from the gig, I think two hundred quid should be enough, after all, you broke your last guitar. I think you deserve it." He offered as they all walked towards the bus stop

"Oh no, really," (Name) waved her hands in protest "It's fine. We said we were gonna split the money equally anyways. I don't want you guys missing out on money too!"

"Yeah well, we only got all that money because of your skills." Sherlock argued back "If you don't have a guitar, we can't make more money and The Baker Street Boys are done for without our lead guitarist."

"Fine," (Name) sighed, before pausing in her tracks "Wait how the hell did you know I broke my guitar?!"

Sherlock had been known for being good at reading people and his deductions were almost always spot on, so (Name) shouldn't have been so surprised

He put a finger to his chin, faux thoughtfully "Hmm... let's see." He mocked "You come to my house again after leaving half an hour prior, and you looked like you were trying not to cry, but your sleeve was stained. Not to mention, most obviously, you want us to come with you to town to buy a guitar?"

Rolling her eyes, (Name) hit Sherlock's shoulder as they, along with John and James, boarded a red bus "Yeah yeah whatever, maybe was a bit obvious."

After about an hour of looking for Q's amongst crowds of people, (Name) eventually found it, although by now, she had spilt up from her fellow bandmates because James had pushed Sherlock into a Victoria's Secret lingerie display and (Name) had ran off, pretending not to know them.

She walked into the store, a nirvana song blasting in her headphones. She looked around for the guitar, browsing around as she attempted to decide which colour she wanted. She picked up a dark red guitar, and it had felt as thought it was meant to be. In fact, she could hear a harmonious piano melody playing in her head.

Wait.

The sound of those piano keys was actually not in her head, but was coming from a grand piano on the other end of the store..?

Taking off her headphones, (Name) looked in the direction of the music. It was Tchaikovsky's Swan lake and whoever was playing it didn't even miss a note. It was, in a sense, perfect. Even (Name) couldn't play guitar that good. Surely, whoever was playing must have been a professional piano player.

At the piano however, she something even more beautiful than the music the stranger was playing. A young man with (very soft looking) blond hair and unique red eyes, concentrating on the keys as his fingers moved in sync to the melody. He looked like he was written by Lana Del Rey, which was rare.

(Name) smiled, walking towards to stranger in an attempt to make some small talk, seeing as Von Herder seemed to be busy behind the counter.

"Wow, you're really good.." she muttered in awe

The stranger perked his head up with a polite smile, almost radiant. "Thank you."

His voice matched his appearance and piano skills, just as elegant as he was. Clearly, he was raised in a wealthy family somewhere in London, probably one of the rich areas like Kensington or Chelsea.

"No, I'm serious. Tchaikovsky is rolling in his grave out of jealousy right now." She said, somewhat nervous "Like if he came back to life and saw you out doing him with his own song, he'd kill himself and die again because of how jealous he’d be, that's how good you are."

The stranger's smile widened in amusement and she could've swore she heard him laugh a little. "That's certainly an interesting way to put it. Do you play any instruments, too, by any chance?"

"Well obviously, if I'm in an instrument shop, I'd hope so." (Name) nodded, gesturing to the piano. "I'm a bit of all rounder. I can do piano, drums and base, but I'm more of a guitarist myself."

"That really is extraordinary.." He complimented "I myself can only really play the piano. I've played a bit of violin too but it wasn't to my taste, honestly speaking."

"You still play really good though. Are you a professional or something?" She asked curiously

The blond shook his head, still smiling "It's just a hobby of mine. I'm more suited to mathematics but I admire the beauty of the piano..the intricate mechanisms..the sounds it's makes..it's an art, if you will."

"Yeah, I get that. It invokes emotion in people, I mean most social movements and revolutions were influenced heavily by music, like anarchism and stuff." She trailed off, then spotted Von Herder back at the counter "I..uh..play in a band. It's not very good but I want to make changes like that too..y'know?"

Surprisingly, he nodded understandingly. "I'm sure you're band is much better than you give it credit for. Do you have a name yet? Perhaps I could-"

"Oh lord, not you again..!" A German voice exclaimed upon spotting (name) "What did I tell you, girl? I'm not trading you the guitar in exchange for an autograph!"

(Name) groaned "That was James idea, not mine, Herder!" She turned to the stranger who had been cut off "We're called The Baker Street boys but Sherly — he's the other guitarist — and I keep arguing about it because I think it's stupid that we're called the Baker Street boys when I'm clearly not a boy, so every time anyone asks, I just say we're called the coke whores even though I don’t do coke and I don’t think anyone in the band does, actually maybe Sherly does I don’t know. I told you the actual name though so that was kind of stupid."

"I see..That's a...lovely...name." The blond smiled, although (name) could tell he was a little taken aback by h the abundance of information. He looked over to the counter. “Are you familiar with Mr Von Herder?"

(Name) nodded, picking up the guitar she intended on buying "Yeah, the band and I come by here sometimes to look at the instruments. James, my friend, bought a bass here last week, but I think he's sick of us by now. Speaking of, I should probably buy this before he accuses me of an attempted robbery." She walked towards the counter slowly, waving at the blond

"Nice talking to you, stranger!"

A/N: omg first chapter. I only started working on this fic yesterday but the ideas been marinating in my brain for a while icl. At least a few months. Anyways maybe that stranger will get another appearance who knows 👀

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp william #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #—are you mine 🎸

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chibisquirt · 3 months

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Unfortunately, I appear to be getting into tufting.

I haven't gone off the deep end yet. I did buy a latchhook and some grid cloth so I can paddle my feet in the rug-like waters, but I haven't bought anything else, not even any yarn for it! (I'm so virtuous.) (I actually am so virtuous; I'm severely weak to yarn.)

But I have been watching rug tufting videos... and looking up tufting guns online... and plotting how I'm going to go about this...

It's a problem.

The fact that, if I get good at it, this could become a viable side-hustle... is not, actually, any less of a problem.

Anyway here's all the shit I'd need to buy to actually get started with it, along with long-range plans for equivalent pieces. Under a cut for the sake of all y'all's humanity:

Tufting gun

This is the big one, and I find myself in a bit of a dilemma on it: you can get them for cheap of aliexpress, but like... do I really wanna trust something that came off aliexpress? I have not gotten anything off there, and while I have no evidence it's any worse than amazon, I have no reason to think it's any better, either. (Actually, I'm pretty sure some of the amazon listings at least *are* the aliexpress listings, being re-sold. So, avoid that one, at least.)

So anyway the tufting gun everyone says is the best runs about $250.

2. Frame

You tuft by shooting fibers into a grid made of fabric; in order to do that, you have to have the grid solidly suspended in the air. This requires a frame.

Price varies by size.

3. Tufting fabric (or equivalent)

This is the fabric that you shoot the fibers into. You can also use monks cloth or burlap, apparently. (Not to be confused with the other fabric, backing fabric, which goes on after everything else, and is what the rug actually sits on.) Not too bad, not too bad, monks cloth is about $15/yard.

4. Yarn

Not my *immediate* starting cost, just because oh god oh god I will be swimming in vanna's choice until I die, but yarn is also not the cheapest thing in the world. You can get two skeins of red heart super savor for about $15-$20, and it goes up from there.

5. Glue

Once the fibers are in the monks cloth, there's nothing really holding them there. That's why you have to glue the shit out of them! Recommended glue is carpet glue, Roberts 3000 or 3085 or something. A gallon of that is $25, or 4 for $50 at Home Depot.

6. More glue!

Yeah, you didn't think we were done, did you? Once you've glued all your fibers in place, you cut out the rug from the grid fabric and glue the edges down, this time with a different type of adhesive. Tutorial I saw recommended hot glue and spray adhesive, which, since I don't have a glue gun, means I'd be looking about $25 all together for them.

Once you've got that done, you can add your...

7. Backing fabric!

Non-slip is good if it's going on the floor... you can do a 6' by 6' square of this for $35.

8. Trimmers

Teeeechnically, I already have some trimmers, but if I'm gonna do this with any seriousness, I don't want to use those for it, because they're designed for human hair and rugs are made with sheep hair (or hair from the noble acryligoat). You can get trimmers that come with a little guide, too, which is super handy if you don't want a giant gouge down the middle of your rug. Call these $40-50.

9. Scissors

Once you've gotten your rug shaved--not a euphemism--you want to go in and outline each color with scissors to give it definition.

So all of that comes to about $500 if you're thrifty. 😬 And then you consider the costs that repeat, like the next batch of tufting fabric and yarn, and the costs that add on as not-essential-but-nice-to-have, like yarn cones, extra frames, labels... It is Yikes.

Buuuuuut... If I were to start selling them... I mean, you can get hundreds of dollars per rug. Per small rug. A thousand plus for a big one! So I do kind of think it might be financially viable.

Better to start it as a hobby first, though. And maybe be prepared to have a pretty big initial layout. :(

#tufting #tag for later #you would not *believe* how fucking expensive this shit is #and even then I'm getting off lightly #my former-manager just SOLD OFF A PARCEL OF LAND to afford her new sewing machine #she got a Bernina #but STILL.#I am... NOT doing that.#Absolutely fucking not.#However... if I can make this potentially-disastrous side-hustle pay for itself.......#*falls deeper down the well*

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suppuration · 8 months

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experiencing that "adhd urge to tackle cleaning my bedroom in one whirlwind effort" phenomenon this week

a majority of that effort has been the result of an epiphany that i was getting in "clothing hoarder" territory, with how much i own vs how much i wear. my partner and i split the bedroom 50/50 and i do not exaggerate that a third of my side was packed solid with clothes

it was bad enough that while going through stuff, a solid fourth of it was stuff i had completely forgotten i have, and another fourth of it was stuff i liked enough to buy multiples of so i had a backup when the first one got too worn out (some things, the item was either so cheap and/or i was so in love with them that i had as many as six extra)

i was tired of never having space to even use my side of the room to do more than sleep and use my laptop. of owning a ton of clothes i didn't even necessarily like enough to wear, and a ton more clothes that don't even fit. of owning more crap than i can handle owning

so i formed a rudimentary plan and ran headlong into it. it's been messy, but it's made it lower stress to not have too much structure to my approach beyond a simple "finish one step to completion before moving onto the next." (i would put "simple" in air quotes, but punctuating that would've been awkward. anybody with executive dysfunction can relate to the difficulty of forming and adhering to a granular itinerary)

most of this is rambling, but it might be helpful idk. so far it's looked something like this:

pulling everything out and sorting by like items. putting all duplicates in one bin, and making decisive cuts on which extras i actually need to keep. taking a cursory walk through my definite "yes" pile to see what coords i can make with them

it's made it much gentler for me to have a "yes" bin, a "no definitely not" bin, and a bin for "still thinking about it." (and a fourth bin, but that's the trash can, LOL.) not having to think about it in a black and white "decision now" mentality lets me focus on being brutally honest about whether i love each thing, and whether it's past its prime. yeah i have the skills and tools to repair many types of garment damage, but do i love the item enough to spend the time and effort?

i think the hardest thing has been trying every single thing on to make sure it still fits, and fits in a way i like. it's cruelly hot here. there are some winter things i can barely stand to touch right now, let alone put on my body. i have promised myself that i will revisit the off-season bin when it's on-season... but i did suffer through the fall clothes since that's a majority of my clothing, and it's my favs

having that "maybe" bin has also given me the ability to distance myself from the items and marinate. i looked through my maybes one day later, and found making a concrete yes/no was much easier. like the off-season bin, i have promised myself that i will revisit the "maybes" in six months to see if my feelings on them have changed

which, i cannot emphasize enough. clearly label every bin and bag while you're pruning--and date it!!! that way you'll know the last time you went through that particular bin. i didn't have any lingering receipts or anything to go by, but i know that some of these stored clothes have gone untouched for literally a decade. be kind to yourself and never let yourself say "etc, stuff, or misc" either. if you do that, you will have to open it to know what's in it, every single time. if it's a mixture of things--like scarves, belts, ties--write each thing on it. i also don't recommend a blanket "accessories" label on any "yes" bins for the same reason

it's taken me three days to get this far, and i'm just past halfway going through things i think, but i think i've gotten my clothing possessions down by 30-50% with my first pass over everything

once i have all my definite "no"s culled, i am going to make a second pass over everything in my "yes"es to see if they're all still definitely "yes"es. same with the "maybes." i know i can shrink it all down further, but i need to trim the fat before i can work with the meat, to sound like a butcher for a minute

it's been exhausting and very time consuming, but it's also long overdue and i have multiple spoon-adjacent energy restrictions working against me. sometimes the best self-care you can give yourself is getting rid of what you don't need anymore, so you can appreciate and focus on what you do need and love

(yeah, part of it is me looking for stuff that's in good enough condition to see if i can get a resale shop to take it, money is getting that tight... but god i am drowning in belongings and i cannot stand it anymore nefeysfnstksfnstksfnstksfnstnm)

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djemsostylist · 10 months

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5 Things OUAT Could Have Done Instead

Inspired title I know.

Part of why I stuck around for 6 seasons (besides pure stubborness) was because I wanted to see, if at any point, they could do anything right. They didn't, for what it's worth, but the more I watched, the more I became sure they could.

For the sake of continuity, I'm going to try and contain this to a numbered list!

The Actors--they needed better actors. This one will be short, because I feel like I explained enough in my "what went wrong post" but essentially we needed characters who looked young and felt timeless. You needed an Emma who looked young, and could embody the toughness of "I've had only myself" but could adopt the softness of "I've finally found my family." You needed a Snow and Charming who could look young, but felt like they were old enough to be her parents, to have ruled a kingdom. You needed a Rumple who felt like an enigmatic immortal creature whose age is unknowable. Actually, the actor who played Pan did a decent job of young but old. Henry too, needed to be able to play young and innocent, but he also needed to be able to play wise beyond his years. You needed actors who could both (see Cate Blanchett as Galadriel).

The Costumes--for the love of god, ditch the Prom dresses. The tulle, the crystals, the cheapness--the costumes looked cheap and felt cheap, and that was apparent on screen. Even if their budget was small, there's a way I think you can costume the show that doesn't make it feel like a cheap children's parade in a small town. I am a teacher on a budget, and the costumes I make, for fun, with clothes you can buy at your local store or costume pieces I've made with fabric from Joann look more expensive. I think the costuming was a deliberate choice, and I've yet to figure out why.

The Plot--this is the one I'm going to spend the most time on, bc it's the place that I think they messed up the most. So--here we go...in the next post because tumblr will yell at me again.

The Final Part...

#ouat #once upon a time #djem watches ouat

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honestandveiled · 10 months

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Part I - Spinach Lasagne

The first thing I noticed about him was the tattoos on his fingers when he served me my spinach lasagne. Yum, I thought to myself referring to the fingers. I live right across the restaurant and I come here every evening and order the same thing but those fingers are new. I usually bring my papers in a binder to read while I eat and stay a little longer and watch people. I look up to see the fingers' owner, new guy. He's got these chiseled arms, dishelved curls and sheen of hardwork on his face. He looked distracted. I smile at him and thank him, trying to hide my perving. Oh God, its been so long since I've gotten laid. Im perving on random guys who are serving me food. Ever since I started my PhD program, I barely had time for anything else - which is also why I get my dinner at this place everyday - its cheap and delicious and I'm too busy to cook.

He nods in acknowledgment with a slight smile. Bon appetit he says and leaves. Usually I never stay until the place closes because id like to give the staff their space while closing it up, today however, I wanna see him again, even if it's just briefly. I had my papers to keep me company. Unconsciously curling my hair with my fingers with one hand and using the other to fidget with my pen, I was deeply engrossed in my papers. I only looked up because I noticed a sound at the counter - there he was. There's nobody else around. It was closing time. I lost track of time, I apologize and try to organize my mess of papers and ready to get up.

"Um-uh you can actually stay longer if you'd like? I mean-n, we are closed but ill be around to finish up some cleaning and stuff. you're welcome to stay."

"You sure?

"Yeah, you look like you're in the zone with your work and I won't be done for another 45 mins so you're fine until then."

"Thank you, that's so considerate! But that's okay ill head home - I need some coffee anyway." I know they don't sell coffee and I feel bad for imposing without buying anything extra.

"I can make you some coffee. God knows I could use a coffee and cigarette before my cleaning"

"Huh. I didnt realize you folks sold coffee"

"Oh we dont. But I can make you one"

"Aw, thanks! Can you let me pay for it at least?"

"Do you smoke?"

"Mhm" I nod, embarrassed of my infinite attempts at quitting. In fact I successfully quit before I started my phd only to pick it back up.

"You can pay me in company when I'm done making the coffee"

---

We are standing at the back of the building in the biting cold, with the coffee warming our fingers and cigarette smoke our faces.

"I'm y/n btw." I extend my hand.

"Carmy". He closes in. Those fingers again.

"Im actually a regular"

"Oh I know. Spinach lasagne. You know I have like 8 other things on the menu right?"

"Haha what can I say? The chef in there knows what theyre doing. Id marry them for the lasagne"

He laughed. "No, im serious. This is most pleasure I've experienced carnally in literally 10 months. Thank your chef for me - the lasagne has been a sex replacement for a poor ol phd student." Ugh I'm so horny its showing. I should probably shut up.

He blushed, blowing smoke from his mouth. "The chef's probably super deprived himself and uses food as a replacement too"

"What if the chef is deriving his talent from deprivation". We are talking about sex (or the lack thereof) very nonchalantly and I need to get used to it but my vagina is screaming.

"Or- or - or hear me out. What if he actually gets a real good fucking and and - " he pauses and laughs "actually i have nothing to add. I think he needs some fucking"

"Id fuck him" i say without thinking. Clearly we are not talking about the chef anymore

"Right now?" He asks coming tad bit closer.

"Right now."

He comes closer, kissing me desparetely, lifting my thigh to wrap it around him. I can feel him grow against me while he's thrusting into me. I pull his curls closer and moan.

"Inside. Now"

We sloppily move through the kitchen dropping our clothes as we head to an office thats dimly lit and scattered with papers. He pushes some papers to clear some space and puts me on the desk. He tries to go down on me. I pull him by his curls stopping him.

"Um-uh im very hairy down there. Havent exactly planned for this"

"Even better" he replies and goes to town. I bite my lip, conscious of my moaning sounds

"I like it when you're loud. Tell me how much you want this"

"Oh please keep going, i want you so bad."

He's moaning while he's eating me. "That feels so good. Please keep going", I mumble between my moans. He is flicking his tongue on my clit so firm and hard that it almost kills me, then he digs his finger into me while sucking on my clit.

"Tell me what you want" he demands.

"This is so good. Keep going". Im going feral!

"Tell me or ill stop" he says almost pulling out his finger".

I let out a small cry. "Fuck me with more fingers!"

"Tell me how"

"Harder!"

He adds one more finger and fucks me really hard and fast with them.

"More?" He asks and before I could say anything, "of course you'd want more, don't you my poor ol desperate student?" He mocks.

"Tell me exactly how many" he asks using the same demanding voice

"All your fingers. Please"

"I knew it" he quickly changes his stance to fist me hard and lifts his head up close and sucks on tongue and biting my lip lightly. I hold him tightly by his hair while he's fisting the daylights out of me. "You're driving me crazy" I breathe into his mouth. He kisses harder

"Ready to be fucked?" He asks almost earnestly

"Not yet. My turn" I try to grab his cock

"We are fucking. Im going to go inside you and thats the way this works"

"Nope. You don't make all the rules here.' I look at him sternly while I hold his cock tightly in my hand pulling him towards me. Touching his balls lightly while I hold his length hard. He holds my jaw tightly "You wanna play hard? I could do hard" he says and before he could do anything I push him back to the wall, get on my knees and put him in my mouth.

He moans as I suck on his tip and squeeze his ass towards me, lightly touching between his cheeks. He stands there accepting temporary defeat. I look him in the eye and say. "Grab my hair and make me go at the speed you'd like"

He uses my mouth to fuck hard and fast as I make glucking noies. "Fuck. You're so hot."

He pulls my head away from his and brings me to his lips. "I need to be inside you." He pauses before he says "please"

I kiss him back while he puts me back on the counter. I put my legs over his shoulders but he holds them by the ankles and moves them above my head and fucks me like its his last. When he finally comes he lets out one last groan and drops his head into my chest and gives small kisses. I kiss him on his face, my legs shaking visibly. He laughs and rubs my thighs along the sides and kisses them "sh sh calm down. You did so good" I laugh a little embarrassed by my legs.

"Water?"

"Water." I reply

"I'll be back" he comes back with a glass of water for both of us. He kisses me with his water filled mouth. Spitting into mine and slowly moves away while I quench my thirst.

He drops a mattress on the floor

"You had a mattress all along?"

"Sorry yeah." He runs his fingers through the back of his head sheepishly. "Got carried away. Come lie beside me"

Our naked backs to the floor we look up while he plays with my long curly hair while I his tattooed fingers.

"Whats your phd in?" He asks

"Computer science. Specifically machine learning. Statistical modelling that kind of thing"

"Tell me more"

"Some other night. Tell me about your finger tattoos"

"I got them when i was in juvie. Don't mean much now. Some other night"

We lie in silence and slowly drift away to sleep.

An alarm goes off around 4.30 am.

"Fuck!shit! Im sorry arrghh" he curses while trying to shut it down. I make sleepy noises and see his face looking at me.

"Darling. Hey- hey mwah, darling. I've got to leave now. Okay? Got some errands to run". I nod trying to make sense of my surroundings.

"Im really sorry but you probably should too. My crew is gonna come in a couple of hours." I stretch my body while he runs his fingers against me and kisses my stomach.

"What errands at..."I look at the watch "..4.30 in the morning?"

"Gotta pick up produce for today. Need spinach for your lasagna" he smiles

"What kind of chef makes his waiter get produce at 4 in the morning and clean up at the end of the day?" I ask while we are putting on clothes. I steal a last kiss on his bare back before he puts his shirt on.

"The chef who is deprived, remember? Actually not anymore apparently"

"You're the chef?" I laugh thinking we are still joking "why were you waiting tables?"

"Short staffed yesterday"

"You're being serious? Omg. I said stupid things about the chef, sorry"

"I did too. Don't be sorry. It's all true. Ill walk you home?"

"Yes please".

#carmy smut #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you

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starsbegantofall · 3 months

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diy handmade wardrobe

You may remember, or not, it was a while ago, that I mentioned I don't really wear a lot of the clothes I've sewed for myself. Excepting the cosplay garments which are not everyday wearable pieces unless they were closet cosplay pieces with no or minor alterations, I really only wear my pajama pants and altered t-shirts multiple times.

I have worn a few handmade lolita dresses once or twice after the first time I wore them, but definitely not frequently like pajama pants and t-shirts. Firstly, I don't really wear dresses or skirts on an every day basis in my entire adult life, not even much as a kid. While I do commute to the office once in a while and could wear lolita there since I have a desk job, I mostly wear business casual with jeans/slacks and the occasional j-fashion blouse or cardigan (skirts have to be midi-length or longer and those are not very convenient for a short person to wear). I rarely go out on the weekends due to pandemic and lazy, so I would just run errands and dresses are not conducive to errands. So even if I did sew the cutest, most comfortable casual j-fashion dress, I would wear it maybe a few times in my entire lifetime. In the end, it's not worth the time and money invested into making it.

Read more about my plans here

The next obvious pivot would be to recreate the pieces that I do wear often, buuuuuutttt those are impossible for a home sewist to recreate. How do I sew jeans on my Hello Kitty sewing machine? I can't, the machine is much too small and weak to handle denim or even regular bottom-weight fabric. I don't have a serger so sewing knits like tops or casual athleisure would be a pain and look sloppy and would fall apart in the wash.

Okay, so the next obvious pivot after that is buy an industrial strength machine to sew denim and pants and a serger to work with knits. That would cost about... $2000 for medium quality machines. Maybe more with inflation. So I would have to make $2000 worth of clothes, or 100 hours of sewing (generously) just to break even. I'd have to sew every weekend for 6 months. Not counting the cost of fabric.

Which is the next issue. You can't really buy comfortable cottons or semi-natural fashion fabrics at the craft store chains anymore, it's mostly quilting cottons and synthetics and canvas. I am lucky to live near a big city with a fashion district so I could go there if I really want to for a variety of wearable fabrics that my skin would not reject the feeling of. That would not be cheap (well, idk, I haven't been to the fashion district in decades but judging from online prices, the stuff on clearance is on clearance for a reason) and I doubt I'll get the exact prints or colors I want even at full price. Thrifting bed sheets (aka the most comfortable cotton you can get cheaply) is.... probably not what I want to sell to others...

With all of these barriers, I have not been able to accomplish my goal in 2022/2023 of sewing handmade j-fashion inspired pieces for both myself or my etsy shop which was named "atelier" but doesn't sell clothes, and used to only have jewelry. My day-job also prevents me working on stuff lol, but as one of my goals was to retire early, I kinda want a head start on my atelier just in case I need to. I hopefully will have saved enough money to retire that I don't need to desperately work on a side hustle, but I like having back up plans. And also, I feel guilty not having any clothes in an "atelier" lol.

Because I'm lazy and don't want to do real business which is the downfall of society, my ideal plan would be to sew a few big/medium pieces, then a handful of coordinating or thematic small pieces, including doll clothes, and also some artwork or whatever, then release 2 or 3 times a year like how actual fashion companies do for the seasons. But with the resources I have, I just can't think of anything I can sew that would be good/sturdy enough to sell for price that equals the amount of time I put into sewing, and that anyone else would buy when they can get it cheaper elsewhere.

So my final idea is to either create very trendy items that I am fairly taobao companies will not make very well, or that American patrons would prefer to buy from a small artist in their country instead, or make fandom inspired items but fashionable like Super Groupies style. I think this is the way to go for me, tbh, that way I know I have made something unique and that I will enjoy making even if it never sells, so I would wear it myself lol. I did make jewelry in this style 2 years ago and jotted several notes of what to sew/craft for my shop in the meantime, but as mentioned before, the few items I made was not to the level of quality to be sellable (even though I personally love them and they're sturdy enough for my use of course) and I doubt I could do much better. But I have to work on leveling up my skills now or I will be too arthritic and blind later, so I have no choice but figure out something asap.

If anyone else has ideas other than buying new machines which probably I need to do anyway, let me know! Again, I'm not interested in making a profit, I'm not a capitalist nor scum of the earth, I am already a doctor, but I do want to be compensated fairly as an artist yet make good quality value-priced items attainable for everyone in these tough economic times. That's not easy, but I still want to try this year.

Anyway... back to more pajama pants for me.

#home sewing #handmade wardrobe

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medicinemane · 5 months

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Me bitching about my mom under the cut

I get real tired of my mom being a child, and for that matter her mom being a child too

My grandpa on my dad's side died last year leaving a bit of money to me and my dad. Like a solidly helpful amount, but... just that sweat spot where it's enough to make me worry I'm gonna lose medicaid but not enough to really for sure fix things (though I think I can leverage it)

My dad's gonna be moving up here, he's gonna be seeing about either getting a job or getting on disability

So that's the set up for this

My mom was upset and worried today and was talking about how like my dad should take over some of the bills so we can stop getting a little grocery money each month from my grandma and because my mom's feeling put upon and cause my mom's been wracking up credit card debt and it's like... for once can shit not be about you and can you be a fucking team player?

There is no "my dad's" money here, there is money that he and I are gonna throw in a pot and see what we can do to use it to get stuff like the windows fixed up with something actually weatherproof, and just try to investigate how best to steward this money into moving towards an actually stable situation

This is just about making shit work, cause in spite of how weird it is, it's almost working it just needs a little push and this might be it... and maybe once things are stable I can find a way to make money myself, and then maybe I can start helping people around me out more like I want to

Meanwhile she spends money having a personal assistant for promoting her writing and it's like... I don't even buy crackers for myself to snack on cause I can't afford it, meanwhile you're blowing money on this shit

Her writing is never going to make the kinds of money it would need to in order to have a meaningful impact on anything, not because it's bad but because it's hard to make money there

So she's just tossing money down the drain on something that's never gonna have a return (I'm sure her PA is great, but that doesn't make it a good use of money)

And like... I don't need it to make money. Her disability payment is enough, I'm not asking for her to boost her income. See she feels guilty about not having a job, but fucking guess what? So do I, and you don't see me self sabotaging to sooth my own ego

What I want out of her is to ever, literally fucking ever, go through her shit and help me get stuff cleaned up. A single box in a month would be a huge win compared to zero boxes over 2 years, you know? And I want her to... not blow money on random shit when we're barely getting by

Like, she was saying to me how even the people who she thought were really doing well in her writer's group are only making like $500 a month and it's like... yeah... it's a really hard field to make money in. Write shit you want to write because you want to write it, and stop losing money trying to make money and maybe help me clean... ever

Then my grandma... my mom feels bad about getting slipped a bit of money for groceries each month and it's like... tough shit

For one thing, my grandma has literally cost me like thousands of dollars over the years by pushing my mom to make dumb ass choices and then I have to pay for it

For another, I can give you an example of my grandma being bad with money from literally yesterday

She bought me this fucking "Izog" or whatever shirt for fucking $50, and it's a cheap piece of plastic shit that she blew the kind of money that could feed me for a week on

I've begged her not to buy me clothes. I've told her I don't need them, I've told her we don't have space for shit (true), I've lied and said my dresser is straight up full. She doesn't care, she's a bored old lady who the only person I ever knew who was as bad with money as she is... was my grandpa, they were a power couple a wasting money, and all she does is watch shit like Dr Phil and then go to marshell's or hobby lobby to buy over priced shit out of boredom

Like she's living the upper class life, meanwhile I've gone hungry my whole life and just... you don't need a fucking sob story or something but like... I think most of us here are not wealthy, and I think you'd probably go fucking feral if you saw how she spends money

Us taking grocery money is the best thing that can be done for that money. Better in my hands than... she literally buys these overpriced pies from safeway, eats them saying "this isn't very good", then buys more of the same brand of pie (they are incredibly bad). Do you see how getting money in my hands is almost a public service?

I don't care how guilty you feel about taking money from your mother, you should feel guiltier about owing your kid... I got bank receipts for $600 in the drawer in front of me, I've lost track of all the more recent stuff she's blown through but like... maybe feel guiltier about how you blow through my $0 income (this is all literally money from the 2020 stimi check) than your spendthrift mom (who I've saved $700 a month by getting rid of your lot rent)

I don't know... I'm just sick of taking care of my mom, and I'm sick that she can't even fucking not listen to shit at max volume, and I'm sick of the fact she can't not make everything about her, and I'm sick of her wracking up debts, and I'm sick of her being like "If I had to live on my own I'd die" and just... fucking give me a gun to blow my brains out so I can get away from her (though she's literally told me if I ever kill myself she'll make it about her too)

I'm tired. I'm probably gonna be able to fix up a lot of things going on in my life so long as the shithead politicians don't totally ruin things. My dad is kind enough to use his inheritance to help me get on my feet now instead of waiting till he dies to hand it over; and while this isn't like a truly life changing amount of money like a million, and it's not even the range that bought me this house, it's a solid stack of money that can get a person a leg up... it's an amount any of you would probably be real fucking grateful to get

I think I can leverage it to cover most stuff and maybe even use it to make it so my stupid worthless lazy ass is actually making some money for once

(And if I'm actually making enough money to cover all my bills then maybe I can finally implement my thirds plan. 1/3 to me for whatever, 1/3 into my house, and 1/3 to help other people with)

I've got mine, I've almost got it solidified enough that I can start trying to move into helping everyone else get theirs but... fucking hell I want to get away from my mom

I don't like... I don't know what I want there. I can't let myself emotionally connect enough to my mom enough to even know. Probably not wishing she'd die or anything, don't know that I'm even wishing for no contact. Just like... not this... not still fucking raising her after all these years

Stop being a baby, stop making it all about you. You're over 50, grow up, stop making your kid take care of you and throwing a tantrum

At least I can talk to my dad enough to say that I straight up would rather he be living nextdoor than in my house. Like I can say that without him taking it as an insult or feeling like he's not welcome, cause he just gets that while I like him he also can drive me nuts and it would be nice if I saw him a couple times a day instead of running into him in the halls... so we can make shit work

(Though I'm not looking forward to having to mediate between the two of them because my dad's a clueless dumbass and my mom's a hyper defensive asshole)

I don't know... I'm just fucking tired. Honestly I just tell myself that I'm trying to get the house in better condition and then maybe do some investing (which I hate cause I consider it rich people gambling... but if it makes me money I'll compromise my morals) to leave behind a passive income for the person I'm gonna leave the house to

...now that also happens to leave me set up to have the house in better condition and hopefully some passive income should I keep being too stupid and lazy to kill myself... but that's how it is

Just fucking wish my mom didn't live in my house, but I'm barely stitching together a working situation as is, barely scraping by using her disability check and even if I was good, that's not enough for her to live off of on her own... and then there's the whole "I'll die if I ever have to live alone again" emotional blackmail bullshit

Come kill me, get a free house and the money that's coming my way. Like there's some hurdles you gotta pass, you gotta make me feel like I'd trust you to look after the friends who've got an invite here if you need it despite being willing to kill me, and you gotta agree to look after them and the cats but... we'll make it very clear it's not your idea, it's mine... I'm the monster pressuring you to do this... come get a free house for the price of a mercy kill

That or I need to fucking stop being a coward and do it myself, fix what a lazy stupid worthless bastard I am

Well, whatever this is, there it is. That's how I feel about shit. I'm tired. I'm also probably totally spoiled and once again fumbling having an easy life... I don't know. I'm pretty worthless shit... I'm fucking starving and... man I hope my mom took me seriously when I said the cat food needs ordering NOW! and that I'd pay for it if I had to, cause they're getting low too

I just don't much care for being alive, and I'm sure I'll sort things out and this will all work out well for me but... I'm fucking tired of being a damn parent to my parents and... just fucking leave me alone and let me rest

#mm tag so i can find things later

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frogsandfries · 6 months

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Oh gooooooooodd...... I found more imposed documents I haven't printed lol.

More things I have to organize. Also, more paper and more ink wheeeee

ETA: for anyone who cares, I got some of the raw AO3 documents cleared off my computer, turned into docs. Put the imposed documents on my flash drive. I was too tired to even finish stitching the one book I was stitching, so I haven't done anything with my catalogue. But I really, really need to. I'm going to try to wait till I'm done organizing my current files. There are, of course, always more. And more. So many more.

Even if I just print the........ never mind, of the imposed documents I saved for myself last night and then rediscovered off my laptop........I already have thousands of pages...... I do wonder, how many tens of thousands of pages? How many am I presently sitting on now? How many will there be when I can no longer gather them for whatever reason?

I somewhat worry that I'm going to get to a point where I'll have too many books and want to keep going, and then what? Overwhelm my family? Get a storage bin?? Could you imagine turning a storage bin into a library? The thought is kinda funny.

Really, the hardest part of bookbinding, in my opinion, is affording the finishing bits, the custom book cloths, the ribbons, the end papers, any vinyls or transfers or charms or other decorations, dust jackets.

The printing, easy. Paper is rather affordable.

Manipulating the paper is hard on the skin, but otherwise easy.

Finding things to print as super easy. There's a lot of media that I have developed an affinity toward, and there are so many people who have thoughts on that media.

But even if I just used cheap cotton fabric, it comes out to about twelve bucks per cover. I use cotton on my mini sketchbooks. I do not think it would be hard-wearing on a bigger book that is meant to be handled more. I think, for my purposes, cotton is not sufficient. So actually, each cover comes out to closer to twenty. Even if I did but one cloth every check, it would still be incredibly slow going. I would just buy an assload of white canvas or something like that, maybe just regular off-the-shelf book cloth, but I hate painting. I don't know how hard-wearing and lasting HTV would be, but I imagine it's a distinctive material when applied to any kind of cloth.

Embroidery is unquestionably in my skill-set.

Is it in my patience-set? Ummmmm........ definitely depends. Anyone wanna ask the cover for the second volume of Manacled? It'll look awesome when it's finished. When will I finish it.

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dzpenumbra · 1 year

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5/9/23

Another slow day, but not a bad one. Good sleep again, and I'm noticing a dramatic difference in my general mood because of it. I ordered more plants this morning instead of going on social media. I think it was a much better decision.

I was originally going to place an Instacart order from Lowe's so I could get a planter to try doing that mini indoor zen garden idea with the water pump and everything... but... I like to batch order things, especially when I'm paying delivery fees, and they didn't have a few things I was looking for. Specifically a clothes iron to finish the paint on my hoodie, and specific plants. So I decided to just order plants off Etsy. It's pretty crazy that that's a thing. I can order cuttings or bulbs or seeds from people on the other side of the continent and within a week it's in my package room. Pretty easy to take shit like that for granted.

I had the idea... since I'm up all night anyway... I wanted actual fragrant flowers. I've never had those in my own house before. Natural aromas. I mean, it feels like a "duh" moment for me. I always use incense and it's great, but why the fuck would I not just get a living air freshener that only needs water and sunlight. So... I remembered that there are some plants that have flowers that only bloom at night. And I looked some up, and I ordered cuttings of night-blooming jasmine. I'm pretty excited for that. So daytime can be scented of incense, and nighttime can be scented of jasmine flowers. We'll see how long it takes for them to get here, the Pothos cuttings shipped today.

Late last night and early this morning, my back was acting up. Sore, tight, painful. My quads were too. I used the foam roller on my quads and it helped a lot, but my lower back needed some extra work this morning. Just getting started with yoga was difficult because of how sore it was. It felt super familiar, that location, that muscle. And I remembered when I was really young... like... probably 13? I was at a gaming store in town, like a tabletop hobby store. I really enjoyed going there, despite the owner kinda... coercing me into getting games I didn't necessarily want to get? Might as well just give context on that. My friends were into Warhammer 40K, and I wanted to get into it too. I was really into Starcraft and Star Trek and Star Wars and all that, big sci-fi nerd. And I came to the store specifically to get set up with a starter kit for 40K. I didn't even know what race I wanted to play, I just really wanted to get into it so I could play with my friends, they had a decent-sized scene there already, probably... 6-10 people? And the owner... he coerced me into getting a starter army for Warhammer Fantasy. And he 100% knew what he was doing. And he did it to try to get me to start up the Fantasy scene, so the local kids would play both... and buy both of the kits... which were... not fucking cheap. And little impressionable trauma kid Me just kinda awkwardly and bashfully was like... "okay"... And got the whole big Empire and Orcs starter kit for Warhammer Fantasy. And nothing for 40K. And I put it together myself, my whole Orc army. And I gave the Empire to my little brother, and put some pieces together for him. He's 6 years younger than me, so he was super young, way too young for a game that complex. So, the Empire... I guarantee there's pieces around that still haven't been put together and that was almost 25 years ago. I never got to play with my friends. They never got Fantasy armies, I didn't get a 40K army until they were all out of the scene, and when I did, it wasn't big enough to play with them. So... yeah, that was kinda shitty of that guy. I have no idea why my mom thought so highly of that dude, that's a really shitty thing to do to a 13 year old.

Anyway, the muscle pain reminded me of when I was that age and they were doing a LARPing thing there in the little grassy lawn outside. People all made weapons from PVC pipe and foam and duct tape and battled each other, it was really fun. But I was retreating backwards at one point and fell and my legs went back over my head and I... at age 13... threw my back out. And the pain was in the same muscles. I remembered all those memories that vividly simply because of a sore muscle group. Pretty crazy how the brain works.

I had two goals to day. 1). Ink drawing, 2). Instagram post. And I accomplished both. The ink drawing is not done, but I sank a good 5-6 hours into it tonight. The Instagram posts? For my necklaces. The one with the quartz centerpiece that I made last Fall, and the one with the bloodstone that I wear now. I wrote big descriptions for them too. I posted them 6 hours ago, and they have 2 likes and 1 like respectively. Yes, I used hashtags. This is what happens when you don't actively use apps. The algorithms fuck you. Deliberately. They favor users who are active, who interact with other users. If you just get on every 2 months and post and then hop off? You're the bottom of the barrel. It makes me wonder... what's the point? Why bother? It gets to a point where it does more damage to my self-esteem, will and perseverance than it actually benefits me. Like... so far... I have reached 2 people who used to be friends of mine, who clearly have never had intentions of directly supporting my career. I'm actually a bit surprised I'm even getting a click of a mouse or a tap of a phone screen from them, but I would be absolutely godsmacked to ever see $5 a month on Patreon from them, let alone an actual commission that actually makes a difference with my rent and groceries. But hey, what says "I love your restaurant, personal friend of mine that I support" like coming by and snagging up free samples every couple days and leaving a blank 5-star review. (I'm a little bitter.) I guess beggars can't be choosers.

Despite all the frustrations and memories that come with these interactions... I'm glad I posted. I'm glad I put myself out there. It didn't take much and I didn't feel a drop of adrenaline in my system. I just had to plan a specific time to do it - after my shower, when I usually put my necklace on. Then, I just took that momentum, with the necklace in hand, set up a display and lighting, did a mini photoshoot, then posted. Done and done.

It's better to put my work out there and get no response... than to not put it out there at all. Right? It's better to play a concert to 2 people than to just skip the fucking gig. Right? I've struggled with that for a long time. Especially with streaming.

There's a phenomenon that happens with people, and technology and social media have severely amplified it. Herd mentality. Where... say you see something listed on Etsy, for example. It has 20 reviews, 15 5-star, 3 4-star, a 2-star and a 1-star. And next to it is a nearly identical item, it has 2500 reviews that are nearly unanimously 5-star, it has a "Bestseller" tag on it and it's listed higher in the rankings than the 20 review one. Which one are you really going to buy? Right? Pretty much a no-brainer for most people. Now apply that same numbers-game mentality to Twitch. How many people are going around seeking out streams that have 3 viewers? How many people are going around seeking out YouTube videos that have less than 100 views? Those are typically, for most people, an indication of the content's quality. Until very recently, both platforms didn't even have search features built into their sites that allowed for searching by lowest-to-highest. That's how rare it is. That's how little people actually seek them out. So, in those cases... with that phenomenon... it can actually be worse advertising for you to stream with 3 viewers than to not stream at all.

I tried to explain this phenomena to my friends and family when I got back into art/streaming full-time after my breakup. They just... couldn't fucking process it. It was like I was speaking Japanese. Or maybe they just... didn't want to? I think they just really wanted to believe that being polite and saying "you're very talented" and "I think you could be successful someday" and "wow, that piece is real neat" are... "support". That simply putting in those minimum possible effort gestures is equivalent to being a supportive person. And I will tell you this straight up, 100% - doing that is a substitute for supporting people. It is done so that you are not expected to be supportive in other ways, because you've "already been supportive". And it can doom creatives. I speak from experience. It fucks up your... expectations of what support actually is, your gauge and definition of what support you can expect from others. So... say you're like me and you rolled nat 1's on the Friends and Family checks in the D&D game of Life. If that's all you've ever known, you look at the road ahead of you... all the things you need to do... all the things that are impossible for you to do yourself... like review your shit, or recommend it to others, or buy your products, or commission literally anything, or hang out and watch your TV show. And you know you can't do them yourself. And you know, from what you were taught, that people in supporting roles in your life should not be expected to do these things. It turns your entire career... your future... your passion, your vision, your labor, your efforts... into a spin of a roulette wheel. You're relying entirely on the kindness of complete strangers. Who, historically, are the least likely to help.

I've probably said all this a thousand times over the past almost full year I've been doing this journal, it's because it's probably the most important message I have to send to others from what I've been through in my life. Fucking support your friends. In a practical way. Watch their YouTube videos, buy their paintings, go to their concerts, listen to their music (I mean like... put on headphones and really listen to it). Be a meaningful staple in their life, as much as you can afford, as much as is genuine. Be a fan. Don't just sit there and wait for someone else to do it. Demonstrate for others that this person's talent is worth supporting. Put your money where your mouth is.

I guess that brought up some old shit. Similar to the other night, the whole... tugging at the stitches thing. Time doesn't always heal all wounds... sometimes that broken bone heals wrong, or it leaves really sensitive scar tissue. And that's a big one for me. And it's really hard... 4 years later... to see the same people who fucked me over, screamed at me, told me I was unreasonable with my expectations and ghosted me for years at a time... still doing the same minimum effort shit. The optimist in me says "welp, it's better than nothing". And I don't really feel like giving a microphone to those other more bitter and hurt parts of me anymore tonight, so I'm just gonna say... I hope those two former friends can really take some time and work on themselves. There's good in them. There's potential in them, both of them, that has been blocked by... getting themselves very deep into responsibilities they were not prepared for. I have a long history with both of them, that goes back over a decade. I do wish them well. It just kinda sucks to be reminded of why those friendships ended, and see that they are literally the only ones who give a fuck about these pieces.

I don't know. I clearly have conflicted feelings on this.

On a lighter note, the ink piece is coming along nicely. It's taking longer than expected, but it's coming together, it will definitely be finished tomorrow.

I planned to get started with the skull today, but again I put it off. I have been putting it off because... I've been waiting for this researcher I heard on a podcast to be done writing her book. I have no idea when she's going to be done though... The book is a comprehensive historical study of magical symbols in ancient Egypt and Greece (I think), going back millennia. She is basically the world's expert in the actual archaeological research on this topic. And she's putting together a series of books that are supposed to come out this year. So... I kinda wanted that for reference. Just to have source material for this type of ritualistic practice that dates back that far.

I have been very fascinated by ritual practices lately, mostly the hybridization of different diverse spiritual practices, beliefs and narratives. How you would get spells or incantations that had like... Jesus and Horus together in them. And apparently it was really common, that the spells or rituals were catered to the specific individual's beliefs, to the point where... in spell books and manuals... there are actual placeholder letters in spots where the person who's getting the ritual done for them's name goes, and also placeholder letters for relevant deities. I'm sure you can imagine why centralized religions might... have a little bit of a problem with this melding... and find it heretical... and even lead to... some more... unseemly methods of putting a stop to it. Magic practices still have a stigma to this day because of it, super fucking ironic that the one thing that hyper-orthodox religious people and flat-out atheists can agree on is the intense multi-millennia-old disgust and ridicule of interfaith magical practices. Yay...

So... I looked up the book again today, and... still no luck. I'm tempted to donate on Patreon to get early access, but... she wants you to be a 2-month donor at something like $17/month to get early access. And... I mean, for what amounts to basically an academic textbook? That's actually a really good deal. So... maybe I should just pull the trigger on that tomorrow. Because the skull is... pretty much lined up to be my next piece. Then I can at least get the ball rolling on that step. In the meantime, I can clean it up and start some basic sketches on it.

I've been all over the place with this piece mentally because... I only get one shot at it. I have one skull. And it's the skull of a formerly living being. And there's a lot of pressure there. And this piece is... 100% improvised. For me, it's how sacred this practice is that really gets in my head. That's where the symbol research comes in. I keep getting this urge, this feeling "I want to get it right." "I get one shot, I want to get it right." And I felt the same way about the horoscope chart on my hoodie, and that was in permanent paint, BUT... this piece? This is literally carved into a deceased goat's skull. They're both permanent, but this... this feels much bigger. And... I think rightfully so. I just want to be respectful, you know?

But it puts a lot of pressure on my improvisational design work. But here's the contrasting thought that I keep trying to introduce. I have been doing improvised abstract design pieces in my new notebook for like... a week and a half now? 2 weeks? Something like that? I haven't fucked up a single one and they all look great. Because... here's the secret, please don't tell anyone... there IS NO fucking up. You CAN'T fuck up. Because it's abstract. Like... the only way you can fuck up abstract improvised art is by... planning it, and forcing it into something it doesn't want to be. Like... the only way you can really fuck up freestyle rapping... besides just being "rusty" or "inexperienced"... is by spitting written shit.

So... I've been caught in that back and forth for a bit now. The "I want to do this right", but "this is an improvised, channeled piece" paradox. And my compromise has been to... essentially... continuing with the freestyle rap analogy... learn more vocabulary. Take a little time before the design phase and learn more shapes, more rhythms, more symbols and signs and sigils. Add more proverbial paints to my palette, more crayons to my box. Then, I can fuse my abstract improvisation with intentional symbolism that dates back to the time of the pharaohs. And that fusion and aesthetic is very appealing to me right now. So... that's the plan for now. Even if it means I just leave a big blank space on the forehead for some form of sigil or glyph to be added later.

Aaaand that's all I've got for now. Not a bad note to end on.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

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roxysmini · 1 year

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I'm gonna ramble a little, pay no mind, or actually give me ideas and feedback but anyway I just need to write down my ideas somewhere

So for the bjd doll hair, there are. So many materials !!! I didn't know wig could be made of such different things

For the Kaeya cosplay, since it's long, dark blue (not a common color it seems) and straight (unlike Kaeya himself lol) I'm thinking nylon/fake saran. I'd have to make the wefts myself but that way I can adjust length layers to fit the Canon haircut better. It's cheaper than real Saran, and looks as good on pictures. For the light blue strand either I yarn brush a single weft or use a dyed white strand (depend on Louis' hair)

Emilie will probably be my next doll, and oh my god her hair is going to be the most annoying. Why did I make a girl with longish curly two-toned hair ? So either curled synthetic fibers (nylon too? Is it easy to curl/wave ???) or curly cheap mohair. It will depend on the brown shades disponible I guess, and then I'll have to see if I can use Regular Rit dye or some acrylic ink/alcohol mixture to dye the end of the wefts

Christopher will be the easiest : pure black, mid-lengt, straight in a proportionally inverted way to his sexuality. Either I buy more Nylon fibers or I do brushed yarn. The nylon would be better I think, his hair is pretty flat

Louis. Now Louis I now what I want but I'm unsure how to achieve it. See his actual haircut is rather short and fluffy, so I'm guessing brushed yarn would be good. BUT ! I want to use that boy as a Barbie model and dress him up in all kind of clothes and so I'd also like a wig with his "younger" haircut. Which was very long but still kinda fluffy hair. So now if I make both wigs I think it might be best to use the same fiber so no obvious and weird color/texture change between pictures. Does the straight Nylon fibers can curl and "fluffy up" well? Because if I do brushed yarn it's going to be so annoying and hard to get a nice, even length. I think I might end up putting a little more money for actual mohair lambskin for him. 15cm length on a 33cm doll should make nice long hair, right ?

I think I have some leftover yarn wefts from back when I became interested in bjd for the first time (before I made hard hair for my 1st attempt) so I guess I can use this for a random wig to get used to the feels/practice cutting. I definitely don't have the patience to make several whole wigs out of brushed yarn tho. And synthetic fibers are pretty cheap, especially if I buy all my colors at once to regroup the delivery costs

Guess I should try making some hard and soft wig caps at first.

#my crafts #Bjd #Wig #Hair #Rambling #The only synthetic stuff I've ever handled were Barbie hair and a cheap ass wig #These nylon/milk silk fibers are cheap as fuck but they look rather nice on picture but what about irl?#And can you Poof them for like bedhair ???#Every doll I've seen seems to have perfectly straight Japanese oiled hair with these. All the fluff is always genuine mohair or fake fur #Tbh thinking about it the price difference between a pack of acrylic yarn in the right color and nylon is. Not too different.#Then again I'm not in a hard financial situation and I could afford to spend like 20 bucks on real mohair for Louis

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thepapergirlandthespiegelman · 3 years

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I am once again dreaming of buying a hanfu 😔

#text #personal #clothing #Chinese traditional clothing #hanfu #I have no idea when I'll have enough money to afford such a thing #I'm too cheap to even buy myself clothes I actually need #the vast majority of my wardrobe is stuff from high school #that either doesn't fit properly or I don't like anymore #but I won't buy new clothes because I'm poor #sigh

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 3 years

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Hi, I'm a parent of a 14yr old who says he is a transmale. After reading the vocabulary list, is there a difference between transmasculine and transgender male? He has not transition yet but I'm trying to learn/do what I can to support his journey. Thank you and please accept my apology if I didn't use the correct descriptive words.

Lee says:

The difference is like the squares and rectangles thing!

All squares are rectangles, so all trans men fall under the transmasculine umbrella, but not all rectangles are squares, so not all transmasculine people identify as men.

Transmasculine is a term used to describe trans people who were assigned female at birth and identify with masculinity to a greater extent than with femininity in some way.

Being transmasculine doesn’t mean that you actually identify as a man, it just means you’re A) masculine-leaning, B) transgender, and C) assigned female at birth.

Personally speaking, I identify as transmasculine because my gender expression and medical transition is bringing me in a direction society sees as masculine.

I also am medically transitioning to a body that people see as more masculine- I’m on testosterone, I’ve gotten top surgery, I’ve had a hysterectomy, and I’m scheduled for phalloplasty in the spring.

In terms of my gender expression, I usually have short hair, I’m growing a patchy quarantine beard, I wear men’s clothing, etc. But saying I have a “masculine” gender expression is an interesting thing because it depends on your point of view. Compared to my pre-transition gender expression I come across as much more masculine now, but compared to gender-conforming cisgender heterosexual men, I do not come across as masculine at all! People often assume I’m a gay man because I am gender non-conforming in some ways, like I have effeminate mannerisms and while I only wear men’s clothes I wear super skinny jeans and the like, so when I’m in a group of men they often think I am feminine, and therefore I must be gay because #sterotypes be like that.

So I use the term transmasculine because it can be helpful in describing what my transition is, like where I’m coming from and where I’m going to, even though I’m not stereotypically Masculine™.

Despite my masculine-esque appearance and transition, I actually identify as genderqueer and non-binary and I feel that my gender itself is neutral and not particularly masculine or feminine.

I don’t understand what it means to “feel like” a boy/man, I don’t use masculine-coded words to refer to myself and prefer gender-neutral language, and I had a choice between being in a men’s group or space and a gender neutral group or space I’d always choose the gender neutral one.

I’ve just always known that I would be happier in a more stereotypically “male” body and being in my pre-transition body was increasingly distressing after puberty. Some people who have similar feelings as I do might choose to identify as a trans man, but I’ve just never felt the need to do so.

So even though I identify with masculinity and would consider myself transmasculine, I don’t consider myself a trans male, and that’s how someone can be transmasculine but not a trans man!

Transmasculine is the umbrella term that covers both binary transgender men like your son and non-binary people like me who choose to transition in a masculine way.

In your son’s case, it seems likely that he is both transmasculine and a transgender male. He’d be transmasculine because he likely is transitioning (or wants to transition) in a masculine way and/or identifies with masculinity or male-ness more than femininity or female-ness, and he’d be a transgender man because he knows he is a man despite the gender he was assigned at birth.

So it’s possible to be transmasculine and a trans man.

That being said, there’s a bunch of different terms that people use within the community and which term someone uses depends on the context and what they’re comfortable.

Some trans men may not be particularly attached to the word transmasculine as a self-identifier even though it’s a label they could choose to claim because they feel like it’s redundant or not necessary because saying they’re a trans man already conveys the same information that transmasculine does.

Transmasculine is a useful term for describing the overlap between the section of the trans male and AFAB non-binary community, but it doesn’t describe all AFAB non-binary people either, as some may identify as a trans neutral or eschew a broader umbrella altogether.

So transmasculine doesn’t mean the same thing as assigned female at birth, and not all transgender people who were AFAB are also transmasculine.

Anyhow, being knowledgeable about the various self-identity terms people may use and how the various umbrella terms fit together is definitely a cool thing to do in supporting him, but I don’t really think it’s the most important thing! I’ll be honest, there’s a lot of terms out there that even I don’t know, especially specific microlabels for gender identities, and different people define and apply the same terms in different ways. But messing up on terms matters to some people more than others, so it is good to get an idea of the commonly used terms to avoid misunderstandings and hurt feelings.

In general, the most important thing you can do to support his journey is listen to him about what he needs and make sure you’re approachable so he knows that you will listen to him.

Now for some advice that you didn’t ask for! I just can’t help myself, so here we go.

I’d personally recommend looking into trans-competent mental health providers in your area. This is useful for a couple of reasons, the first being that pre-transition trans people often have depression because they struggle with being misgendered, incidents of transphobia, dysphoria about their bodies, being rejected and not accepted by peers/relatives/teachers, and so on, which is a lot to add on top of the usual stress from high school! And therapy can be helpful in finding strategies to cope with gender dysphoria.

Additionally, medical providers and insurance companies who follow the WPATH-SOC will require a letter from a psychologist saying that the person is ready to take [insert relevant medical transitioning step] so seeing a therapist is often the first step towards a medical transition, and at age 14 he might be interested in starting puberty blockers until he’s able to go on testosterone. Or he might want to start testosterone right away, or do neither, but having a therapist and getting diagnosed with gender dysphoria can help get through the gatekeeping process that may be present in medical transitioning if that is the path he decides he want to take.

But be careful of how you bring this up- you really don’t want it to come across as you saying “you’re trans so you’re mentally ill and you need therapy,” because the fear of conversion therapy means if you don’t make it clear why you’re suggesting therapy he might be hearing the completely different message of “you need therapy so you can stop being trans and get better” which is not your intent at all.

Every step makes your child’s life better- I legally changed my name at 17, which was hard for my parents to allow because obviously they were attached to the name they had given me at birth, but it made a big difference in my mental health. And the earlier people transition the easier it is for them.

It might also be helpful to offer to buy him men’s clothing and underwear and shoes and men’s deodorant and all that if he only has women’s things right now. He might be between the boy’s and the men’s sizes for clothes, but most folks can find something they can fit into.

You might also want to offer to buy him a safe binder from a reputable binder company. Binding unsafely can have risks, and if he can’t get a safe binder he might choose to bind unsafely with a cheap and dangerous binder or ace bandages or duct tape and so on, or bind for too long because he has to hide it and can’t get away to change out of it.

Buying a packer is another thing that he might want, but of course, with all of these things you also shouldn’t make assumptions about what your son will want or need.

For example, some trans men may not medically transition and/or may not aim for an masculine gender expression because gender expression and genitals are different than gender identity. So even if he doesn’t want to go on testosterone, or decides to wear a dress sometimes or doesn’t pack, it doesn’t mean that he’s not trans.

You don’t want him to think that you’re saying that he should want these things or need them to be valid, or feel like you’re pressuring him into taking steps that he’s not ready for in his transition. But if you don’t bring up the topic at all, he might be too anxious to tell you about it because he’s worried about what you might think.

I do emphasize that being trans is rarely a phase, detransitioning is not common, trans people know who we are and we know our genders and you should trust our word on that and so on, but I think sometimes people push the “it’s not a phase!!!!” message so hard that they don’t leave any wiggle room for people who are still questioning and coming to terms with their identity.

Especially at the start of someone’s journey we need to be open to some level of uncertainty and change. The only person who knows what someone’s gender identity is the person whose gender it is. It’s very important to take your son at his word! But figuring out your identity can be a process, so be understanding if he switches names, pronouns, or gender labels a few times while he’s still figuring it out.

It’s likely that you will slip up with names and pronouns on occasion, and the best thing to do is just correct yourself, and move on.

You can briefly apologize (wait to do it later when you’re in private if it occured in front of someone) if you feel like it’s necessary. But don’t make it into a big deal, which calls attention to it and can be embarrassing for the trans person, and don’t start to self-flagellate about it and beat yourself up because then it makes it about you, and the trans person feels compelled to say “it’s fine” or something to reassure you when it isn’t fine.

Just correct yourself and move on, and do better next time! Then make sure you actually practice with his chosen name and pronouns so you make fewer mistakes in the future- practice makes perfect, as they say.

You should also make sure you’re an active ally to trans people in your everyday life if you weren’t already doing this. This is something you should ideally be doing whether or not you have a trans son who just came out.

Finally, make sure you get the support you need. You might find seeing a therapist helpful for yourself, or connecting with a support group for parents of LGBTQ children- many are meeting on Zoom now, so if there isn’t a group local to you there’s probably one online you can join! Be careful to avoid the transphobic mom groups that promote conversion therapy, rapid onset gender dysphoria, and don’t believe in being transgender. Finding a good support group will let you vent when you need to and find community for yourself as well- it’s a lot to process, and it can be emotionally difficult for you on top of managing the logistics.

But honestly, I wouldn’t recommend telling your son about anything you’re struggling with when it comes to his identity because saying things like “I feel like I’m mourning my daughter” isn’t going to make your relationship with your son any better. Especially because he’s 14, telling him that you’re having a hard time is just going to hurt him without helping you any, so it’s best to keep those feelings between yourself and your support system until you’ve reached that stage of acceptance when you’re no longer struggling with coming to terms with it. He needs to be reassured that you’re supportive of who he is and he won’t be able to reconcile your support with those statements, so don’t lie but don’t volunteer those sentiments.

The For parents/guardians intro has some of the same stuff as I mentioned above, like links to safe binders and packers and info on puberty blockers and the benefits of medical transitioning, so check that out too if you haven’t!

All in all, I think it’s really great that you’re reaching out and trying to support him! I know that even trans folks with really supportive parents still have anxiety about being rejected so it’s good to give them a little extra reassurance to show that you do care about him and that you do see him as male and you respect what he’s sharing with you. Good luck to both of you!

Followers, anything to add?

#Lee says #transmasculine #trans male #terminology #parent #parents #allies #for allies #cis asker #Anonymous #trans #transgender #transgenderteensurvivalguide #TTSG

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non-stop-imagines · 4 years

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Party-Get Together-Thing (Request)*

Request from @twistedcharismaaa: Hi 🥰💕! I loveeeeeeee your stories 😩. So so much. I was wondering if you could write Peter Parker maybe a little older? Like 19-22? With the prompt “It’s two a.m., why are you next to me?”. Pleaseeeee tag me 🙏🏾✨

Prompts used (from Drabble List #2): #67: “It’s two a.m., why are you next to me?”, #20: “Shhh, they’ll hear us.”, #21: “Why are you laughing?”, #76: “You wear glasses?”, #86: “Where the hell did you learn to do that?!”

Pairing: 20+Peter Parker x 20+Black!Reader

Warnings: Some cursing, but I promise it's cute, it's fun, it flirty, and it's primarily SMUT, I ain't gon lie to ya

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: So I'm just preparing y'all now, I was not expecting whatever this turned out to be.🤣 @twistedcharismaaa I hope I did your request justice and would like to thank you sooooo much for your patience. This was honestly extremely fun to write because it's been a looonnngg while since I have written smut and it feels good. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Love you allllllllll!!!!💖💛💖💛💖💛💖

UNIVERSAL TAGS LIST: @beautifulwisdom2001 @iamzion-therealhabesha @thottio @jetaimeamore @mixedfandxms @here-for-your-bullshit

Remember requests are open! It can be a specific prompt or from the Drabble Request list linked in the bio! Just ask to be on a tags list (or all tags lists)!

Masterlist

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Saturday, 12:00 p.m. in the middle of June. What else would practically a floor of young twenty-somethings do except fill they’re idle time with some fun. A little drinking, a little smoking, the great possibility of hooking up with the cute, seemingly shy brunette boy that lives in the apartment 3 doors down from you. The one that waves at you when you pass by, even if he seems to be struggling with two handfuls of groceries. Thoughts move through your head as you move around your studio apartment, picking up stray clothes and tossing them in the hamper, unsure and uncaring of whether or not they have been worn within the past week. You pick up your phone and re-read the text from your neighbors, thinking about the consequences of the proposed idea.

Chilli 🔥🥵💃🏿🌶️:

Party, our place. 9:00. Your only job is to invite Peter. Your ONLY job. Don't fuck it up💅🏿.

Beth🤪💁‍♀️🌺🌟:

And, a couple bottles of cheap, high alcohol content liquor would be great too 🤪🤪

Peter. And cheap liquor. The two most simple tasks and yet it feels like you were just told to scale Mount Everest in 2 hours with no oxygen mask. You sigh and flip your long faux locs to one side of your head, staring straight at your reflection in the oval mirror that hung on your wall, gold paint chipping off.

“Hey, Peter. Party tonight at Chilli’s and Beth’s place. Make sure you come through.” You facepalm yourself and reset, pulling part of your hair back into a half-up ponytail style, hoping the change in visual will help. “Peter! Hey! How’s it going? Uh- my neighbors are throwing a party. Yeah you know those two crazy gals…” You stop in your track and let go of your hair, then flop down onto the beaten-up teal couch that sat underneath the mirror. Why was this so hard? He was the last person that you would expect to be nervous to talk to and yet here you were, contemplating whether or not you’ll even decide to leave your apartment for the rest of the day. That was until your stomach growled prompting you to stand from your couch, grab a hoodie to cover your upper body that was clad in a horrible DIY cropped cami. You pull on some slip on Vans, grab your wallet and keys that sat on the table next to your door and head out to your favorite lunch spot: a Greeks food cart with gyros that would make you murder a bitch. You pull out your phone from your hoodie pocket and begin to type out a short “Sorry I can’t make it to the party because I’m a little nervous bitch” text when in the middle of typing you bump into none other than the Peter Parker, the boy that had you prepared to become a hermit before even thinking of speaking to him. You look up to his eyes, not having to shift your line of sight too much since it was only a slight height difference, but still enough to make you feel sort of small under his gaze.

“Woah. Where are you running off too?” He finishes unlocking his front door and opens it but stops to turn to you, adjusting his backpack strap and then rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes were large and doe-like as his expression of shock stayed plastered on his face.

“Oh, uh, lunch. You know how it is.” You wave your hand still containing your phone around before quickly tucking it away then pushing a loc back behind your ear and beginning to annoyingly, or what you felt was annoying, play with the gold cuff that surrounded that specific loc.

“Oh yeah. I’m actually about to make myself some lunch too…” He points his thumb into his currently empty apartment, making curiosity consume you and forcing part of your gaze into the more than slightly disheveled apartment.

“Cool.” You place your attention back onto Peter and put your hands in you hoodie pocket, fiddling with your keys, your wallet, anything your fingers could find to calm you down. “I was just going down to that gyro cart a couple blocks down. I was craving one and once I start craving something, I NEED to have it, ya know...” You chuckle and look down at your shoes, widening your eyes for a moment at the insanity that were the words that left your mouth seconds ago.

“Well, don’t let me get in your way. I’ll see you later.” He begins to walk into his apartment but you stop him in his tracks, tapping his shoulder and quickly calling his name.

“Uh, are you doing anything tonight? Because my neighbors- you know Bethany and Chelsey, they live in 230? They are throwing some party-get together thing and just wanted to know if you could make it? There will be music and alcohol if that sounds fun to you.” You end your request with a slightly awkward smile that you only give someone that you’re trying to convince.

“That does sound pretty fun. What time- or does it matter?” He turns back around to you, trying to smoothly lean against his door frame, but greatly misjudging his distance and giving himself a small visible heart attack.

“It starts at 9, but I guess that’ll be more set up so show up closer to 11 just to be sure.” You laugh, calming down when you begin to feel the nervousness radiate from him.

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll see you there?” He asks you as you being to walk to the elevator, pressing the button to go down.

“Of course! Who do you think is bringing the good alcohol?” The elevator doors open and you step in then turn back to Peter, opening your hands to him while keeping them in your pocket as the elevator door closes.

_____

You adjust your dress in the full length mirror that hung on your bathroom door, glad that you jumped on that 40% off sale on Fashion Nova last week. It was a short, satin spaghetti strap dress that was a beautiful powder blue and simultaneously hugged and hung off your body beautifully. You bend down and tighten the straps on your simple silver heels, your cutest but possibly most uncomfortable pairs of heels in your closet but you didn't mind because you knew right as you stepped through the threshold of your two neighbors apartment they were coming off. You sway over to the hanging oval mirror and admire your make-up, impressed with the job well done on your matching light blue eyeshadow artistry. Since the party was only next door you decided it was best for you to only bring your apartment keys, phone, and 3 bottles of liquor with you since anything else you would have needed was less than 30 seconds away. You take one last deep breath and one last once over of your reflection in the mirror, then head out your door, moving to the music that flowed out of the one bedroom next door.

“I knew we could trust you with the good stuff!” Chilli yells when she sees you walk through the door, time now almost 10:30. She was a pretty tall, 5’9”ish, brown skin that could rock a clown wig if she wanted to and eyes to die for. Barely ten seconds later, Beth, a short, about 5 '3'', fiesty girl with dirty blonde hair pokes her head from the bathroom, eyebrows just finished but still fully dressed in a black, strapless crop top and pink skirt and shoeless.

“I knew she could do it. Now lets just see if she followed through with the boo-thing situation.” She pops back into the bathroom to finish her make-up.

“Please, for the love of GOD, stop saying boo-thing.” Chilli takes the bottles from your arms and places them on the counter, currently covered with several other versions of alcohol and snacks that are commonly requested when a group of twenty year olds get together. You pick a bag of gushers from one of the bowls and flop down onto the still pulled out bed, quickly undoing and pulling off your shoes. “Don’t think I won’t say anything out white boy down the hall. Did you talk to him?” She picks up the blankets that covered the floor of their apartment and placed them in the whittled basket you remember her buying at a thrift store a couple of weeks ago.

“Yes, I did. After bumping into him, of course.” You pop a gusher in your mouth and lift your legs onto the bed allowing Chilli to straighten out the rug that sat beneath your feet. “After a bit of small talk I told him about the party-get together thing and he said he would come so, ha.” You stop your friend from moving for a second and swiftly pull the sticker tag that layed along her right buttcheek. The pants were regular black jeans that fit her perfectly and were a perfect complement to the pink stain crop that she had on.

“Well, good. Phase 1 done. Now for phase 2.” She turns around and crosses her arms, raising her eyebrow which pulls your attention to her sparkly and aesthetically pleasing eyeshadow. You stop your hand before placing a finger full of 3-4 gushers into your mouth, confused as to what this “Phase 2” entailed.

“Uh- what exactly is Phas-” Before you finished your words, Bethany come sauntering out from the bathroom, make-up pretty much finished but still a brush in hand. Almost as if they rehearsed this moment, they each grab you by a hand and begin to sway with you, matching the tempo of The Weekend by SZA playing in the background.

“You are gonna get dicked down.” Bethany sings and turns you around, giving you fully to Chilli who does a mediocre cha-cha with you.

“Because you need that more than a girl’s night Netflix binge right now...” Chilli sings, finally letting you go, allowing you to plop back down on the bed.

“Why am I not surprised by you two? Always thinking witcho pussy.” You finally place your much needed gushers into your mouth and roll your eyes.

“Because, darling, pussy rules the world. I don't make the rules, just simply follow them.” Chilli states with her best British accent then quickly turns on the charm when she hears the first group of guests knock on the door frame.

_____

11:30. You look at the door again, smiling at the familiar faces that file in but stay seated at the counter, slowly sipping on the beginning of your third concoction of blue raspberry vodka and lemonade, an original of yours. You look down at your phone for something, anything to tell you that the boy that you should not be all hung up about did not just appease you earlier today. Right as you were about to head back to your apartment for a moment you receive a tap on your shoulder, making you slowly turn around to see the owner of the hand, obviously surprised to see Peter, wavy hair tossed around as if he just finished getting ready a minute ago in a plain white t-shirt and black dress pants with a belt equipped with a gold belt buckle. You weren’t surprised that such a simple outfit on this boy had you trembling at the knees, but the cute smile he gave you as he looked you up and down had you pooling where you sat.

“Sorry I’m so late. I realized too late that I had no idea what to wear.” His words mixed with your slight intoxication had you laughing a bit more than necessary, but that didn’t bother Peter one bit.

“Well, you know how to improvise under pressure, don’t you, Parker?” The flirtatious inclination in your voice caught Peter off guard but not too off guard to quickly follow you to a part of the kitchen with a couple of stacks of shot glasses. You take two from the bottom of one of the stacks and fill them with the Crown that sat near the stacks. You hand one to him and smoothly lean against the counter, raising your glass to him. “To the promise of a very fun night.” You two toast the first of what will be half a dozen shots between you two and down the liquid, wincing at the burn then pulling him to the middle of the living room to dance in the midst of some already too drunk young adults knocked out on the couch.

_____

As predicted, six shots for you and six shots for Peter was enough to have you dragging him back to your place, lips locked and stumbling to your locked door. Your groan and turn around to the door, removing your key from the top of your dress as you allow Peter to continue to push past your faux locs to suck harder on your neck. After a couple of moans, you finally are able to push past your door into your place, drop your keys on to the table next to your door, and blindly move to your couch. You push him down onto the teal fabric and immediately straddle him cupping his face with your ring covered fingers as you pull him further into an exceedingly heated kiss. You feel his fingers tickle up your sides, slowly pushing your dress up above your hips to your waist, the movement becoming more and more unbearable the higher his fingers go. You couldn't help but push away and begin to crack up, earning the most confused puppy dog face you have ever received from him, only making you laugh even more.

“Uh, why are you laughing?” He continues to run his fingers up and down your exposed flesh, but you quickly place your hands on top of his, stopping the movement and slowing your laugh.

“You’re tickling me. I am unfortunately very ticklish on my sides.” You help Peter out by pulling your entire dress over your head, letting your unrestrained boobs pop as you finish pulling the dress above your head, having slight trouble when you reached your hair, but giving Peter a show as he runs his eyes down from your brown breasts with perfectly dark nipples to the black thong that hugged your hips. You throw the dress to the floor and finally rest your eyes back on Peter’s face, guiding his sight back to your eyes and giving him a confident smirk. “Liking what you see, huh?” He just says nothing and goes back in for another round of making out, his hands continuously making their way to your ass but slowly moving back up. You start to buck your hips on his lap, smirking into the kiss when you feel him grow underneath you. While keeping your lips glued together, you stand from his lap, guiding him over to your bed and slowly sitting down, breaking the kiss but not breaking eye contact as you go to undo his belt. The pace seemed to be excruciatingly slow for him because after a few seconds of letting you kiss down his “V Line” as you slowly undid his pants he pushes your hands away from his waist and quickly undoes his own belt, clumsily stepping out of each pant leg. You hold in your laughter at his goofy franticness but let a small grin grow on your face, breaking some of the sexual tension by making Peter laugh when he looks back up at you.

“What now?” He chuckles, pulling his shirt over his head, giving you a great visual of his surprisingly well developed muscles. Your eyes trail down his chest slowly, making you absentmindedly lick at your still surprisingly well glossed lips as you continued to look down his abdomen.

“Nothing, just loving the enthusiasm.” You grin up at him, watching as he hovers closer and closer to your face, kissing you again as he tugs down your thong, humming a response into your mouth. His kisses continue but start to move down your body, some extra attention ensuing when he reaches your breast, catching your right nipple in his mouth. He begins to suck and swirl his tongue around the nub and sneaks a look at your face, eyes closed arching your back into the feeling. He continues down your body, finally reaching your inner thigh, the closeness enough to have a groan drip from your lips. You feel Peter smile as he kisses up toward your pussy, but his now gradual ascent makes you perch up onto your elbows.

“Yeess…?” He raises his eyebrow as he looks up at you, continuing to kiss up your thigh.

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering where that haste you had a few moments ago went, that’s all.” You giggle, brushing his hair back from his face so you could have a full view of his sultry and and teasing gaze.

“Ohh. Oh, you mean this?” Right after he accepts your challenge, he dive right into you, sucking hard on your clit and licking streaks up your slit. The sudden onset of pleasure makes you let out a shriek, which makes Peter quickly stick his middle and ring finger from his unoccupied hand into your mouth which you instantly begin to suck on. “Shhh, they’ll hear us.” The tone of the words that seemed to drip from his mouth earned a complying hum from you as you nodded and looked into his eyes. He just smiles and continues on you, sticking two fingers into you, curling them and pumping them in and out slowly as his tongue continues to focus on your clit. His hum of satisfaction that he lets out against you runs a vibration through you, bringing you closer to a finish. Your moans on his fingers increase in volume before you lean back onto your bed, no sound able to escape your mouth due to the intense feeling of pleasure coursing through your body. Peter quickly catches on to just how good he was making you feel and stops in his track, keeping his laugh to a chuckle as he watches you squirm from the sudden loss of contact. “Can’t let you have all the fun.” He quickly shimmies out of his underwear and jumps next to you into bed, gently kissing behind your ear as you come down from your attempted climax.

“Fuck, where the hell did you learn to do that?!” You moan, leaning into his lips as they trail back down your neck. You feel his dick rub against your thigh, coming dangerously close to your pussy which clears your mind up a bit, making you push him away and look up toward your nightstand. “Go on. Pick your favorite. They’re newly stocked.” You smile up at his hovering naked frame before watching him roll off of you and crawl up to the nightstand drawer, opening it and pulling a condom from the still closed box. You wait for what seems to be a moment too long, occupying the ache between your legs by supplying friction from your thighs.

“So, you wear glasses?” Peter coos, circling your glasses in one hand as he sits up next to you. “You know what, I just realized I have never seen you in your glasses.”

“Because,” You reach for your glasses but groan when he pulls them away. “I just prefer to wear my contacts, that’s all.” Peter gives in and lets you have your glasses, but soon after a mischievous look plasters on his face.

“Model them for me. Please?” He goes back to kissing down your neck, knowing that of all the gestures he has tried tonight, this will get you naked in front of him modeling your glasses in no time, and boy did it work.

“Fine, fine. I just need to go take out my contacts.” You giggle then saunter into your bathroom loving the feeling of knowing exactly where his eyes were. Less than a minute later you were there, standing at the foot of your bed, glasses on as his hands began to roam your body again, slowly pulling you onto him, making you straddle his now protected dick.

“Oh, this was a great idea.” He pulls your face down to his, gently moving the faux locs that fell into his face to the side. Your hand begins to have a mind of its own as you lead his dick to your pussy, positioning it at your slit and letting your hips do the rest of the entering. All that comes from Peter’s mouth after this was a weak “Oh my,” before he grabs your hips and helps your hips move up and down his dick. You lean back down to his face, sticking your tongue into his mouth, fighting for as much dominance as possible as his surprisingly large size moves in and out of you, supplying the much needed and severely missed pleasure you were feeling minutes ago. You two stay in this position for a moment, reveling in the pleasure that you both were feeling before Peter rolls you two over, grabbing your right thigh and bringing it up to his shoulder. For a moment your reach up to cover your upper body, the new position making you feel oddly vulnerable, but Peter quickly senses your mood shift, slows down his thrust, and lowers his forehead to meet yours. “You okay? You need me to stop? I can-” You shake your head and kiss his concerned puckered lips, instantly feeling more comfortable.

“Please do not stop! That is all I am asking from you now is to please not stop!” Your words come out more as a grunt, letting a loud groan come from your lips as Peter quickened his pace again.

“Yes ma’am.” As his pace increases, the movement of his hips become sloppier, which you thank your lucky stars for because you would not be able to handle much more before reaching your hilt.

“Parker, I’m gonna cum,” You moan out, clawing at Peter’s back as he leans onto you more and more, movements becoming increasingly free.

“Me and you both. Fuuuu…” And after a few more thrusts his hips slow to a stop with you writhing from your climax beneath him. After you two take a moment to catch your breath you slowly move up to where your pillows were, recooperating from the incredibly fun sex you just had as Peter rolls the condom off of himself and tosses it to the trash can by the table at your door. He joins you underneath your blankets, turning to face you and giving you the sweetest kiss you have ever received then pulls back to simply look into your deep brown eyes.

“That was a… well, fun.” You giggle, kissing Peter again then laying your head on his chest, letting him run his hands over your hair, feeling a sense of ease when he stops to focus on certain locs that catch his attention.

“I don’t think you understand the number of times I have thought of that moment.” Peter’s playfully crude remark earns him a light slap on the chest but your hand placement left you defenseless for when he pulls you back into his chest, letting the silence that falls over you two and the sounds of light breathing rock you both to sleep.

____

You awaken slightly from the deep slumber that overtook you and Peter hours ago, and after taking a second to gather your wits you look over to your alarm clock on your nightstand. 2:23 a.m. You groan at the small headache that ensues after you turn over to your stomach and reach up to feel your unwrapped and slightly disheveled hair. You gently rock Peter until some movement comes from him, decreasing the strength of your push as he comes to, but still rocking him as you speak to him.

“Hey. Hi. It’s two a.m., why are you still next to me?” Peter grabs the hand that was doing the rocking and pulls you back into him, lightly feeling your hair before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

“Well, I guess that means I did something right because you didn’t kick me out after, so…” He shrugs and smiles down at your placement on his chest.

“I mean… you’re ight. Enough for me to let you stay over or wateva.” You front your real reaction about last night, smiling at the way his chest moves when he laughs. “I guess you can stay for a while longer, but it’ll cost you.” These words had Peter on top of you in no time flat, that familiar mischievous smile gracing his face again.

“I knew you couldn’t get enough of me.” He bends down and takes your lips into a heated kiss, but before anything continues you push him back, staring seriously into his eyes.

“Also any and all questions from Chilli and Beth will be rebounded to you because I cannot deal with those two today-” As you finish your words Peter dives back into you, peppering kisses along your favorite spot on your neck.

“Fine, its only fair.” and with that his head disappears underneath your blanket, and you were already raring for round two.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker smut #18+peter parker #request #marvel imagine #marvel #spiderman imagine #spiderman

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copperbadge · 5 years

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Forgive me if you've already written about this, but you seem to have your life together so I'm asking: how do you keep house? All the online resources seem to assume I'm a stay at home mom-- I live with myself and my cat, and work full time. How do you keep up with the messes created by yourself and the cryptids? How do you keep up with the messes that seem to just spawn?

Oh, man, such a good question. I feel like part of the answer is…I don’t? I mean I do, obviously I don’t live in rank filth, but I don’t keep as clean a house as say, my mother, or even some of my friends.

I try to set up systems to prevent certain types of mess, which helps – I try never to leave something for later if it can be dealt with in the course of the moment, which can be wearying so not everyone’s going to handle that well. But for example, laundry – when I do it, I do every part of it. Not every article of clothing (though that too) but I stand in the laundry room and fold it there, even though my condo is only a short elevator ride away, because I know I a) fold better standing up and b) am more likely to just dump it on my bed and not fold it if I go back to my condo. So I fold all my laundry and then I take it home, and then it’s super easy to put it away! (I also have arranged my life so that putting it away is easy – the shirts go on hangers, everything else goes on open shelves or, in the case of socks, in an open box by the door).

I don’t do the dishes every day. Why should I? I’m one human, and I don’t like having wet hands or sweaty glove hands. So when I’m done with a dish I put it in the sink and run water into it to soak, and at the end of the week I wash them all. Is it a little gross? Probably. But as long as I stay on top of it within reason, I only have to do dishes once a week and I don’t have to worry about pests.

I vacuum when I vacuum. Sometimes my floor is not the cleanest, but what am I doing on my floor? Only walking. Hell, in the living room there’s a significant amount of floor space dedicated to being covered in loose catnip. I sweep it up if friends are coming over but otherwise that’s just The Catnip Area. It’s dry and smells nice, so why not?

One good tip I have for Cryptid Mess in re: the litterbox is to find a cheap foam yoga mat and put it under the litterbox. It catches a lot of the litter. I do keep a dustpan and a little hand sweeper in the bathroom to sweep up the litter it doesn’t catch – I do that every evening, because if I don’t the cats get into the box and play drum solos on it all night long. I have a small trash bin near the box that all the poop and swept-up litter goes into and I empty that once a week when it gets full.

I have never dusted once in my whole life. Obviously this is untenable if you have particulate sensitivities of some kind but I don’t, so when company is coming I do a quick vacuum and then wipe down anything that looks dusty and likely to shed it, and otherwise I am okay with a bit of dust.

I also buy convenience items that make it easier to clean or to not-clean. I have a three-bin, wheeled cart for laundry so everything gets sorted as I take it off (trousers, socks-undies, shirts; linens always go in with socks-undies because it’s usually the smallest load) and it’s easy to get the bins to the laundry room. I have an Omega Paw litterbox so I never actually have to scoop it, just clean and refill it on occasion. All of my windowsills where the cats like to lie are covered in fabric so that the shed onto that and it traps it a bit, and then I wash those occasionally (every blanket I own is still covered in cat hair, but whatever, the hair mostly sticks to the blanket).

But these are all kind of very specific examples that illustrate a larger point I make a lot when it comes to living your life as a grownup: these are things that work for me because they work with the way my mind works. What is most important is to find a system that works for you. I often advise people to think about what conditions would enable them to do better at something they’d like to do better at, and then find a way to implement those conditions. Like I used to not go running as often because I hated putting socks on in the morning. So I found a pair of shoes that didn’t require socks to run in. Relatedly, my socks were getting everywhere when I kept them on a shelf with the rest of my clothes, so I put them in a drawer in my kitchen, near the door where I kept my shoes, and they stayed not only more organized but out if sight. When I put the mail on a counter after coming home, I forget it exists, so instead I open it before I go in the door, sort it in my hand into “important” and “garbage”, and put the important mail directly into my work bag, so that the following morning when I unpack my bag at work, I’ll see it and have the mental capacity to deal with it. I have an open paper bag next to my sofa that is only “dry” trash (tissues, paper, reciepts) and the garbage mail goes directly into that so I don’t even have to lift a trash lid to get rid of it.

When I do feel like the level of ick is getting too high in my home, I set aside a weekend day to deal with it. And I spend the whole day cleaning – but I spend maybe 40% of it cleaning and the other 60% resting and rewarding myself. I clean one room at a time because that’s easiest for me, and I tend to push all the mess into one room and do that one last – so anything that shouldn’t be in the kitchen gets removed to the dining room table, ditto junk in the bedroom, and then I deal with the table all at once so that it’s its own task rather than ten thousand tiny distracting ones. Inbetween rooms I watch a movie or make myself a snack or play with the Cryptids.

But I also know people – one of my new coworkers for example – who have totally different systems. He goes home on Friday night, FRIDAY NIGHT, when all I want to do is fucking sleep! and he cleans his WHOLE TWO BEDROOM TWO STOREY HOUSE! He starts in the room furthest from the kitchen upstairs and cleans his way down and into the kitchen. I could never. But that’s the ONLY way he can clean, he’s physically incapable of cleaning anything as he goes. So his wife does the little mess-cleans, like mid-week dishes or picking up clothing that has gone astray, on the understanding that she doesn’t have to help with the Friday Night Deep Clean Of Horror. I have other friends who have wholly different ideas of what “clean kitchen” means – for one it means there’s no messy dishes in the sink, for the other it means the counters are clear and wiped down – so they each tackle their half of the “clean” conception, one clears the counters and the other does the dishes, rather than taking turns cleaning the “whole” kitchen. They had to vocalize this to each other before they could strike that deal, though. And when you live alone, sometimes you aren’t aware of how you conceptualize things because you’re never expressing that to someone else.

So I think it’s super important to talk to yourself, actually. To ask yourself, what does clean mean to you, and what do you just not give a shit about? Then ask yourself, what would make it easier for me to address the parts I really care about? And then arrange your home around that.

I hope this helps! Remember, learning this kind of shit is a process, and it takes time and energy and self-reflection. You don’t have to become Martha Stewart tomorrow – you can take the time you need to build up little insights and habits slowly. Good luck!

(Did you find this educational or helpful? Feel free to help me buy laundry soap by dropping a tip in my Ko-Fi or at my Paypal!)

#Anonymous

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