#NOT a poor me post

[soniabigcheese]

The Day I Became a Nobody

This is NOT a pity me post, but something I've been thinking about, and wanted to put it into context.

And under the cut because this is a long post

I've been a Nobody pretty much of my life, and I'm okay with that. But the first time was in my early 20's. Can't remember anything before then, flunked exams because I wasn't really that engaged. Messed around and wasted time with college.

Failed my first driving test and was told by my mother* 'I knew you couldn't do it', despite telling her that the first instructor was a pervert and the second one was like a drill sergeant, which unnerved me somewhat.

*foster mother/auntie who brought me up (long term foster care)

But the person I thought was my friend - living just a few houses down the street - got married and left me off the invites. Of course I was miffed but clearly understood. I'd lost my mum a few months previously and was still in the early stages of grief and getting used to living alone. Had no money, clothes were old and worn and my mum had run up a debt that I couldn't possibly pay.

Once again, I repeat, this is not a pity party. Just stating facts.

Then suddenly, the day before - or was it actually ON her wedding day ... someone dropped out and there was an empty seat. I said yes but then worried that my clothes weren't good enough for the day.

But I was SOMEBODY!!! I should have realised that I was just there to fill a seat. But I was thrilled AND nervous, since this was my first attending of a wedding

Got to the reception, only to discover it was an open bar. No money so I hung onto my drink for as long as I could, refusing kind offers from complete strangers to get me a drink. Because I couldn't return the favour.

Spotted another school friend and thought great! Someone to talk to. She suddenly declared very loudly that there was nobody to talk to and walked off.

Nobody Number 1

Nobody number 2 came from my own immediate family. Because I couldn't give them anything of worth. They obviously believed that I was rolling in cash but the insurance just paid for the funeral and I had nothing left over to do anything with.

I was no longer needed, so I became a Nobody. Not that I cared much anyways. I found them loathsome and greedy. Still haven't spoken to them for all these years and have no intentions of doing so.

Nobody Number Three ... work.

Just a couple of weeks after starting work, I passed my driving test and got some wheels. Suddenly I was SOMEBODY again. And I ended up being the errand girl, using MY fuel to go get prescriptions, be a taxi service, even go pick up food for breaks/lunch.

Until I was diagnosed with a brain tumour and gave up driving. And then became Nobody once more. Those folks whom I'd done so many favours for, didn't want to know me and made excuses when I asked them to help me out. Now, I was considered an inconvenience.

But hey, I quit there, I no longer have to put up with all of that.

However, I am expecting to be a Nobody in the future. Because, despite being told that 'you're family', I suspect that once hubby goes, then I'll be superfluous to their requirements.

And that's okay. I've had years of practice, being a Nobody.

But adding this to the end of my rather long winded speech.

At least I am SOMEONE here ... with all my Mutuals and Long Time online friends. And for that, I truly DO appreciate you all, you're doing so great, sharing fics, silly stories, pictures/artworks/moans and groans and other personal stuff.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[rosysugarr]

Y'know, I started to type out a massive post about how sad and frustrating it is that every USAmerican southern character in anything is presented as ignorant and uneducated and "dumb" and even hateful, how there are people here with degrees and careers and incredibly complex skills that took years to develop and learn, and then I realized, fuck that-- yeah, there are a lot of people with no or little education down here. We're fucking poor. A lot of us just can't afford college. A lot of us have to get jobs instead to support our families. Some people dropped out of high school to do that. And you know what? They're still human beings who deserve to be represented as whole, real, functional people and not flat archetypes.

Like yeah, I could talk about all the talented and smart people who came from down here, but the "simple," the disabled, the uneducated down here don't deserve the way the media depicts them, either! Because the bulk of them are good people who just got dealt a bad hand because we are so pathetically poor down here. And yeah, that includes the addicts. We have a lot of addicts down here. And that isn't our fault, either. when you're dealt the worst possible hand and no one wants to help you, everyone regards you as being trash, you're gonna cope however you can.

Everyone wants to write us off and present us in media as pretty much just. nothing people, but there are many, many people here of all walks of life who deserve respect and who need help that they aren't getting BECAUSE nobody shows us any fucking respect, and the way the media depicts us consistently does constant, DEEP damage to the way the rest of the country views us. It isn't fucking fair and it isn't fucking okay.

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still deep in the episode 7 brainrot. because OH BOY AM I

(also one more extremely, obnoxiously self-referential thing, I'm -- I'm so sorry)

[tempo-takoyaki]

Happy Pocky Day with some Bingqiu! How did they acquired the pocky? Ask the System.

[eliotbaum]

Fiona has a higher STR score than both Lydia and Kasper which also means — she can carry them

[artilite]

stuck... forever?

drew this right after finishing act 4! had a day of intermission before going on and finishing the game so this ending really got to soak with me...

[garden-of-thoughts-fruit-of-lips]

" Out of Line"

It's the person who's "out of line" who is always told to, "Get back in line!"

I'm "out of line," and the students tell me to, "Get back in line!" But I say, "No, " and I saw a smaller line, and they all seemed happy and stood out as different. They were dressed in school uniform. So I started making my way over there. And the teacher of the line I left came and asked me to, "Get back in line" and when I replied, "No", immediately that teacher took it to the principal and now the principal and teachers from my original class started threatening me in front of the students. Who were trying to scare me to get back in place. When I started to break down and cry, my original classmates and other students of that class said, "If you would have stayed in line, this wouldn't have happened to you!" Even with that being done, I kept making my way to the other line. Now, the teachers became furious, and bullies from that school approach me, telling me to turn around. Once again, I refused, so the principal gave a "signal" to the bullies, and they said, "Fine, you could go." As I turned and walked a couple steps further, they added by yelling, "This school dressed you! So we're taking your clothes from off your back!" They started ripping the clothes off of me in front of my classmates and other students. "Hahahaha," they would all laugh as I became naked. Once, I was stripped, and the students of that class noticed the scars and bruises on my naked body. The bullies moved aside so all could see, and I saw pointing, I heard whispering and laughing, and from the laughing crowd, words came out, "How long you had that there!" followed by more laughter. I even heard the ones that had pitty for me say, "If he would have only stayed." At that exact time, I got up from off the ground and turned my back against them

[pa-rou]

how could i forget gear knob camel

[1]

[laddertek]

desperation at the postal service

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #142

It was considered a pretty big deal when a new ancient gets born. Danny didn’t and wouldn’t know this when he gets into an accident. A signal went out to all magic users that the ancient of space was born as soon as he stepped out of the portal and then things changed. If you could make a deal with an ancient it increased your power way more than that of a demon. Soon Danny gets chased by all sorts of folk trying to make a deal with him. He then gets caught by John Constantine who takes him back to the safety of the watchtower. What is the safest place to put the space ancient? In space!

[realstrap]

05/05/2024

Hey yall starting Tuesday i work 7 days in a row, I'm really short on cash til my next check and this is v urgent. At about $20 a day I would need $140 to cover rides and this needs to be met by tomorrow!!

This job is very important to me and I can't be late!!! Anything helps

CA: $lezsalt or $sleepyhen

VM: wildwotko

Dm 4 PP

[maddymoreau]

Thinking about how Diavolo’s feelings transcend time and how in the Nightbringer UR+ card Demon Lord’s Castle Tour this conversation happens.

When asked, “Do you wish to see your father?”

Diavolo responds:

“I suppose I do . . .” isn’t the typical reaction to how a child would feel about wanting to see their parent. Especially when said parent has essentially been in a coma for a year.

Along with how Diavolo describe his father.

It makes more sense why when you learn in Lesson 56 how Diavolo was treated by him growing up.

Diavolo can tell when others are lying but is unable to understand his father’s intentions.

Diavolo mentions that he lived a very sheltered life growing up. That from a young age his father never allowed him a chance to talk to anyone outside the castle.

His childhood friend was Mephistopheles. A demon literally RAISED to be his friend. Putting a barrier between the two because Mephistopheles would put Diavolo on a pedestal.

The isolating childhood he experienced riddled with his strict father constantly scolding him.

Despite everything MC is so important to him he wants to see his father again so we can meet.

[crunchchute]

father daughter holy spirit

[grandwretch]

a scene with absolutely no context just hit me v intensely out of nowhere but. imagine a world where Steve's dad is just a little more powerful, a little darker, than in canon. and this mr. harrington doesn't know his son has spent the last five years fighting for survival, so when he finds out steve has been running around with the munson boy, he thinks it'll be an easy fix. steve has always been a soft sell.

he gets a call from steve, his son's voice giving him no time to even answer: "you pull that shit again, I'm sending the next one home in a body bag."

before he can even put down the phone, dial tone already ringing on the other side, he gets the message that the heavy he sent to intimidate eddie munson is in their medic's office with two spiral fractures and a shattered kneecap.

maybe steve could have gone into the family business after all.

[crabussy]

for the record I think wind turbines are beautiful and are not a stain on any landscape and the sounds they make are beautiful and whenever I see one I am filled with love for human innovation and hope for the future of clean energy and if they needed to be built close to my house I would go YAYY ^_^ WAHOO ^_^ WIND TURBINE!!