#Sleep Token have given me a lot of self reflection

[c-rose2081]

Audrey’s Pendant

Character Development through costuming (or just an unusually deep lack of consistency)

So, I LOVE the pendants that Audrey wears in the Descendants films. You could even say I’m a little bit obsessed. I include the pendant in my art of her, and mention it often in my writing. But this little piece of costuming is SO important to her character, and I’m here to tell you why.

The Pendant

So, Audrey’s pendant first shows up when we meet her at the end of Royal Return. It’s bright blue, fairly simple, and in the shape of a songbird. This is important because it marks Audrey as Aurora’s daughter, and a Princess of Auradon and Auroria. Sleeping Beauty was given the gift of Song by the Good Fairy Fauna on the day of her birth. This motif is very specific, and can actually be found in the original film during the Three Gifts sequence. As you see here ->

This pendant is a staple of Audrey’s costuming throughout D3, and it actually goes through several unique changes during the movie. I’m not sure if this was intentional, or a happy coincidence with a lack of consistency in the costuming department. But if we look at the stages of Audrey’s pendant throughout the film, we learn a lot about where she currently stands as a character.

Stage 1: The Songbird

This is the pendant Audrey starts off with in the movie. It’s bright, and easily noticeable against the collar of her dress. The motif is that of a songbird because it’s an image used and associated with the original Sleeping Beauty film. It shows how important Audrey’s heritage is to her, but also represents the amount of expectations she has on her regarding her family, and what her life looks like after her breakup with Ben.

Stage 2: The Dark Songbird

Blink and you’ll miss it! During the Queen of Mean sequence, Audrey’s pendant actually goes black as she makes her move to steal the crown. Though it could simply be due to lighting, this is a strong metaphor for how Audrey is feeling right before she falls to Maleficent’s scepter. See the differences in coloration here? ->

This one really could just be an inconsistency/lighting issue, but I like to think it was on purpose to reflect the depth of Audrey’s hurt.

Stage 3: The Songbird & The Raven

We see this pendant for a total of five seconds in the film. It makes an appearance right after Audrey becomes the QOM, and can be seen very briefly at her collar. This pendant is the one Disney used for merch, even though it’s not the pendant Audrey wears for a majority of her stint with the scepter.

I LOVE this pendant because it shows very clearly how torn Audrey is about her role. She wants to be the Princess, but feels she must be the Villain to reach her end goal. The literal Devil and Angel on each shoulder motif which is mentioned by Audrey in QOM. It illustrates the complexity and duality of her character at this point in the movie, and I wish we could’ve seen more of it.

Stage 4: The Vulture

This pendant is very Maleficent-esk, and is the Queen of Mean’s token costume piece. We first see Audrey with it when she appears to Mal right before Jane’s birthday. At this point in the film Audrey has been fully consumed by the Scepter’s power. She’s the villain, she’s evil, and this pendant is used to reflect the change from good to bad. This is the pendant she wears for a majority of D3, and is the direct result of her pain and hatred towards Mal, Ben and the VK’s.

Stage 5: Nothing

Finally, at the end of the film, we can see Audrey isn’t wearing the pendant at all. I actually went through scenes from when she was struck by Mal with the ember, and while she was under the sleeping curse, and the pendant wasn’t present there either. There are a few different reasons this could be.

1.) The pendant was destroyed when Audrey changed back. The songbird was less a motif of Audrey herself, and more of what she represented to Auradon. With all of that destroyed in lieu of her betrayal and subsequent character growth, the pendant is no longer suited to her and was destroyed with the Ember. Her former self is gone, and hence so is her character symbol.

2.) She’s simply not wearing it. I have a headcanon that the pendant does return to normal after Audrey changes back, but she’s to ashamed of her actions that she refuses to wear it. However, we see in D1 that Audrey does change her jewelry depending upon what she’s wearing, so it’s a possibility it just wasn’t paired with the dress.

3.) Inconsistency. Which is 100% possible because there are so many problems when it comes to props in this movie it’s laughable. But that’s a whole nother thing which we won’t get into here.

So. That was fun right? I think it’s interesting to see that Audrey gets more character development through her costuming then she does with her dialogue. But I’m a sucker for her mood necklace changes. Down below I’ve provided a little diagram of all the stages for y’all to take a look at ->

Please let me know what you guys thought. Interesting? Did you notice how often Audrey’s pendant changed in the movie? Let me know down below or in the tags. Till next time! See ya later :3 ❤️

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

I Taste Honey but I Haven’t Seen the Hive - Chapter Two

Ao3,   MasterPost,   C.1

Relationships: eventual queer-platonic intruality, platonic logicality (and mentioned platonic relationships)

Warnings: swearing, mild body horror, negative self-thoughts/mental state, guilt. 

Word Count: 2,822

Patton woke up the next morning to find not a single disgusting token hiding away in his room, and that was after half an hour of semi-paranoid investigation. While he did find a patch or two of what looked like shedded dog’s hair and a snapped nail, they were scattered on the carpet as though left by accident. He already knew that Remus’ body was naturally more of a debris-machine than that of a scrappy pet, occasionally shedding off parts of his body like a constantly regenerating zombie. He decided then that Remus hadn’t been secretly trying to prank him, after all.

Now, being the embodiment of emotions, Patton was almost always spot-on identifying which emotions were which. That was why he could say, with perfect certainty, he had never quite had this mix of emotions before. And if he was honest, he didn’t really want to think about it enough to learn; he didn’t want to think about the night before at all.

Pushing the events out of his mind (not repression! He argued to himself, just thinking about something else for a while!), Patton carried on with his morning routine. That always took exceeding amounts of time, anyway, thanks to the numerous distracting things littering his room. What could have taken fifteen minutes was usually closer to an hour or so, but that was why Patton got up early! 

Well, that, and the fact that he usually didn’t sleep very well, but he preferred to not focus on that. 

That day, Patton decided, was not to be one for focusing on anything bad. He’d had a rough night, oh sure, but he’d woken up more refreshed than expected and was still riding the high of physical affection (despite its questionable source). He could feel that good, excited mood he had on occasion lifting him, and such an energy was just what he needed to go downstairs, start his day, and try to convince Logan into finally letting him help cook. 

Logan never agreed, of course, because he was the only side that had any skill in preparing food. But Patton never stopped trying, his fiery history with the kitchen notwithstanding!

Patton rose up in the living room, instinctively at his usual place. He took a second to appreciate the trinkets, odds and ends, and personal effects littered around the room. That kind of personality-infused mess always made him feel strangely fond. Reflective, even, upon how and why each item had come to lay where it was just then.

The smell of fresh food and the crackling of a skillet got him quickly back on track, though. Grinning, Patton made for the kitchen. 

“Morning, Logan!” He greeted him in cheer.

Logan startled, spinning on his heel a bit too fast. He didn’t share Patton’s positivity, no, he looked worried. 

“Patton! How are you ‘holding up’, as they say, this morning?” He said softly, like if he thought a loud voice could break something now. Patton cringed.

“Oh, I’m doing fine!” Memories of the night before pushed against his skull, and it was everything he could do to beat them back. But he was good at that sort of thing. “How are you?”

It was an obvious redirection. Logan pressed further:

“You sank out so abruptly last night. The others were- we were all concerned for your wellbeing,” he glanced away, chewing the inside of his lip. “That, and… Virgil informed me that, before he went to bed, he saw Remus leaving your room,” Logan’s voice dropped, “He didn’t upset you in any way, I hope?”

“No!” The exclamation burst forth from Patton with a ferocity he didn’t know he had. It was defensive even to his own ears, and he flushed in embarrassment. “I mean, no, he didn’t upset me! We were just-” cuddling? “-talking.”

Logan tipped his head sideways, disbelief obvious on him.

“...Talking?” 

“Yup, talking!” 

“You were talking to Remus?”

Patton pouted performatively, setting a hand on his hip as he doubled down.

“Of course I was, Logan! He’s an interesting fella, you know.”

“I know that,” Logan rolled his eyes, “I didn’t know you got along with him at all, however.” 

Patton- to both his own and Logan’s surprise- didn’t say anything at all to that. He barely nodded before he left the kitchen, calling out an excuse that he forgot as soon as it was out anyway. It was almost rude, and he knew he’d be dreadfully ashamed of it later. What was another little regret on the pile after all?

Logan had things to attend to, and Patton didn’t want to hang around and distract anyhow. At least, that was a good enough excuse for him to use as he sped out of the kitchen to find his next distraction. 

 Patton put the talk with Logan out of his mind without any trouble. His plans for a good day would not be so easily foiled by one concerned friend- who really had no reason to be concerned in the first place, in Patton’s humble opinion. Besides, breakfast with everyone was still nice! He’d gotten roped into a very enthusiastic conversation with Roman- one that got as increasingly loud, as was usual for the two- and when Remus joined in, it wasn’t too terribly awkward anymore. 

The rest of the morning was inoffensive, if a bit slow-going as Patton got all his work done. The afternoon was much the same, but he did get to spend a while with Virgil! (Who must’ve heard from Logan not to ask about the night before, mercifully). 

Evening rolled around, though, and with it Patton found that he’d made short work of his jobs. With the deficit of busy-work, it really couldn’t be helped if his mind started to wander- and what a dangerous thing that could be.

It was hard not to think of Remus. To not recall the… the softness with which he had treated Patton, something that the intrusive side hadn’t even seemed capable of before that. He’d been downright empathetic, and Patton still didn’t know how to take that. He’d done nothing to earn that kindness, not really, and certainly not from Remus of all people. He wasn’t sweet, or considerate, and calling him sentimental sounded like a joke more than anything.

‘Sounded like’, there was the key word, Patton mused. However long he spent thinking it over, it became more and more clear that this was yet another thing he’d misunderstood. 

Months ago only, he’d honestly believed that none of Remus’ suggestions could be genuine attempts to contribute, and now he helped them balance almost all their creative works as part of the team. He’d proven at every turn that he was honest, yes, but he was not shallow, and Patton knew he’d only just scratched the surface of Creativity. 

But that was besides the point. It was besides the point and Patton didn’t want to think about how little he knew. 

The point was, he wanted to learn. He had to. Even if it proved him wrong about everything- especially then!

So there Patton stood, shifting from foot to foot, Remus’ door staring him in the face. He was stalling, he knew, but his fraught thoughts also knew his intentions were not for self-improvement alone. He wanted to repay Remus, repay him for the strange and gentle and impossibly amazing comfort he’d given to him. He’d given him what he’d been missing- affection, willing affection- but what did Patton have to offer in return?

That was the scary part. Thinking of what he’d be asked to do.

But he still had to reach out and risk it. He had to know. 

Patton raised his hand, shaking, tilted back to knock. And there the hand hovered, untouching the splintering and algae-covered wood. It was almost like the underside of a boardwalk, stinking like ocean and stained green from years of salt water exposure. Would it hurt to touch, Patton wondered? Would the wood break off into his hand, or would it come away slick, slimy?

He ducked his head with a huff; that kind of disgust was completely unfair to the creature he was trying to reach out to, and he knew it. He didn’t have the energy for this; Patton wrapped against the door thrice in quick succession despite the nagging of his instincts (it was slimy, and rough as well. His head ticked to the side at the disturbing texture). The knocks rang out, and then there was an abrupt stillness in the whole of the hallway, like all life had stopped at once. This was true for Patton, at least; he held his breath, balled his fists, and it seemed he was standing stiller than he ever had before. 

From the other side of the door, there was muttering. It was frantic, but not upset, and one voice alone. A lot of things happened very quickly after that:

First, the door slammed inwards, no one on the other side of it. Naturally Patton leaned to look inside, and as well as he had- ragged claws sank into his shoulders, a shrill noise rang in his ear, and he was spun around. Screaming, Patton toppled backwards and landed flat in the threshold to Remus’ room.

Speaking of Remus, the creature himself was looming over Patton, his skin rippling with bumps and ridges and colors like a continual shapeshift. He had his arms raised, his mouth opened hugely; it looked like a soundless laugh. 

But he glanced down at Patton, then- trembling, whimpering Patton- and his eyes widened in recognition. At once his skin smoothed over and returned to its usual color, his jaw snapping back into place. 

“Oh!” Remus reached down and hauled Patton back to his feet with a strained huff. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Logan’s the only one who seriously knocks for me, cuz he’s all polite and shit.”

Patton righted himself, trying very hard to stop shaking. After a deep breath, he said:

“Oh, haah, it’s okay!” He pulled his sleeves taut, with a smile to match. “I just wouldn’t want to interrupt you, if you were busy.”

Remus shrugged, cocking his hip. 

“Oh, I bet you wouldn’t,” a smirk then split his face, and he winked. “But you should know I don’t mind anybody walking in on me, Daddy.”

Patton nodded quick, having no idea what (if anything) he was agreeing to, when in reality he was Very Uncomfortable with All of those words. He tried for a laugh, but at the same moment a deeply horrifying growl decided to erupt from behind him. He realized that he did not want to have his back to Remus’ room for even another second. 

“Uh- could we-?” 

Remus caught his meaning, stepping deftly around Patton and into his doorway. It was almost a twirl when he switched their positions, aided by the fact that he always moved like water.

“Right!” He clapped his hands together, “What was it you wanted, Pops?”

Oh, yes. That. 

Patton didn’t meet the Duke’s eyes at all, the words lumped together on the tip of his tongue. Why did this feel so embarrassing?

“I was wondering if we could spend some time together?” 

Remus’ eyebrows went way up on his forehead, and his face split in a downright sultry grin that had Patton red-faced and abashed.

“Not like- I’m not- I meant, like, an activity-” Remus’ smile widened, “-No, um, something fun! Not that that wouldn’t- well, I just don’t like-” 

Remus erupted in laughter, throwing his head back not unlike a shrill bird.

“Oh, I’m just fucking with you. No, really, what’s up?” 

Patton frowned.

“I wanted to know if we could hang out. That’s what I was trying to say?”

Remus gave a derisive little sound, and his nose scrunched.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he propped his arm against the doorframe, his gaze boring into Patton. “You were being serious? I figured you needed me to help with, like, chores or something!” 

Before Patton could even respond, Remus snapped the door shut behind himself and dipped into the hallway. 

“So, what? You wanna bake cookies or some shit? That could be fun, but there will be fire and broken glass if I’m involved. Or- you like those zen coloring books, right? Although, the adult coloring books I use are much more emphasized on the adult, you know, and vulgar-”

Patton shook his head sharply, and- gathering some courage- placed his hand on Remus’ arm to halt him. 

“Um,” he said, “I was thinking that we could do something you like to do, actually.” 

Remus stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he’d been touched, looking at Patton like he’d sprouted another head. He tried out several different expressions, like he was trying to see what reaction they’d garner- first amusement, then happiness, then offense- but he finally settled on plain confusion. It looked the most genuine.

“Are you joking?” He asked, the question laced with a striking sincerity. Patton wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was dread or guilt, but either way he let go of the Duke’s wrist. 

“Of course I am!” He enthused- tried to enthuse. 

There was a beat. 

Remus, for once, looked uncomfortable; fidgeting his hands, arms, tapping his foot.

“Really?” 

“Really really!” And Patton really really hoped that this exchange could be over, so that he could get on with this- he meant!! Um! So that he could have a nice time with someone who had been nice to him. (Oh, what was wrong with him?)

Remus tipped his head to the side. He hummed.

“This is because of yesterday?” That hit the nail right on its head, yup. Patton winced. “I told you not to worry about all that. You don’t really want to do this, you know, and that’s obvious to both of us. My idea of fun isn’t nearly as conservative as yours, Pops.”

Patton felt a stab of offense at ‘conservative’. He dropped his smile.

“I- look, Remus,” a sigh, “You didn’t have to help me yesterday, but you did, and… I still don’t know why. And I don’t really know why I’m here right now, either, or what I’m doing with you. I barely know anything about you!” Patton shook his head, but an indignant conviction was filling up his chest. He met Remus’ eyes, steady. “But I do know that we never let you pick what to watch on movie night. I know we don’t always listen to what you suggest on really important projects, even though that’s your job. I know we- that I try so hard not to make things about you, even nowadays. That’s gotta get, um, disheartening, right?” Remus tilted his head, but Patton didn’t wait for an answer. “And that’s why I’m here. So whatever you like doing, you don’t have to do it alone- like how you didn’t leave me alone. And…” He knotted his hands together in front of him, shoulders low. “I can figure out the rest later.” 

He meant it. He was surprised by how much he meant it, having no idea where it had all come from. It didn’t erase his nerves, his discomfort, even his disgust, but he stood there and he honestly hoped that soon he wouldn’t have a reason to feel any of those things with the darker side of Creativity. He wanted to understand, if only he could know how. And maybe, that creature before him, smarter than he probably seemed, would show him how. 

Remus was silent for a long, long while. His face was blank, expressionless. He wasn’t grinning, and there was nothing glinting mischievously behind his eyes; his nose wasn’t bunched in a snarl, there was no show of huge and horrible fangs, and he wasn’t moving.

It was the most intimidating he’d ever been.

“You don’t have to do that,” and Remus’ voice was soft. It was almost unreal to hear it that way, his accent not fit for that kind of volume.

But Patton was emotions, and emotions knew at a glance what awe sounded like- what hope sounded like. It was shocking to hear them from Remus, but Patton knew the shock was good. He’d been right- right about initially being wrong, right that Remus had more to him than his outside. He was right, and now he needed to know more of him. 

 Patton smiled, sincerely, and for once he knew exactly what to say. 

“I know I don’t have to,” he admitted, “But I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Remus tilted his head one way, then the other, and back again. Slowly, he returned the smile, and it grew to look much more like his usual beam. He darted past Patton, swung his door open, and strode inside. 

“Watch your step,” he warned, “The floor isn’t entirely dead yet!”

Patton, amazing himself, hardly hesitated to follow.

Chapter Three

Taglist:  @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @gayformlessblob

[scifimagpie]

Solidarity and Other Dreams

One of the most subtle and painful things about the internet age - perhaps any age - is finding out that someone you admire has acted in a far less-than-admirable way. Reconciling that with continued affection can be tricky. For example, I've heard some mega-questionable things about Amanda Palmer, wife of Neil Gaiman - who has been thoroughly castigated ad nauseam in public and private. And so it goes for many celebrities and important figures around the general Leftist/leftist/liberal community. You can probably think of someone you like who's done or said something insensitive, ableist, transphobic, racist, homophobic, misogynist, or otherwise disappointing. Someone who didn't take a strong enough stance, or too strong a stance, or said something that made your skin crawl.

Have I been this person? Probably. I try to hunt down and deal with my own mistakes, relying on the trauma-survivor skills of micro-self analysis. I count my sins and errors and mistakes like pre-reformation Scrooge with his money. I do not forget or forgive myself. This is not necessarily a character strength, either, nor something I recommend to others.

And of course, many of us do that with others.

But recently, after ditching a friendship that was bad for me, I went to my "blocked users" list on Facebook and really had a look at this. I remembered most people on it. Some were casually encountered, but some had become friends - who had, at one point or another, said something I really, really didn't like.

And I considered...is it really worth keeping someone blocked if you can't remember the exact nature of their infraction?

What makes someone unsafe?

I've seen my share of panicky, touchy arguments on Facebook, including one where an activist I looked up to accused someone else of "gaslighting" them for having a different opinion about interpretations of a Steven Universe character's race. I've been in those arguments, too. (Not that one in particular, but similar situations.)

Part of the problem for those of us on the left is that calls for solidarity usually result in a backlash of people saying, "we have to work with those we don't like? But that means supporting abusers!" Well - sometimes it doesn't. It's tricky to talk about abuse, because those of us who've survived it in various ways tend to be extremely gun-shy - sometimes excessively or even unhealthily so.

And in the moment, it can be hard to tell if someone's comments about, say, a given woman or actress represent their feelings about All Of Womanity, or anything else.

Do we tolerate mistakes?

This is such a tricky problem. Obviously, as a white woman - even a queer, plump, neurodivergent, partially disabled one - I have a giant swath of privilege that affects how I'm coming at things. I'm cisgender, and I'm white, and even femme - all things that can, in certain circumstances, give me a free pass that would not be afforded to others. Obviously, kyriarchy - hierarchies and power that exist outside of patriarchy - is a thing that exists. Dealing with it sucks. Some people get forgiven for their screw-ups a lot more readily than others, and the people forgiven are usually white. The people who don't get away with things are usually black, or other people of colour; men also tend to get away with more than women. BUT - there are also times when we have to question whether conflicts or errors are as important as the general need to fight for our rights. And perhaps we need to be more honest about how dangerous or not-dangerous specific people are.

As one of my found-family siblings, Iskara, put it,

The left are collectivists and the right are individualists. We know this. But you can't use those traits to compete with others who have the same trait, you're pretty equal. So to establish a hierarchy within their respective groups, they use the opposite approach. The left will attack individuals who are below them to prove that they are the wokest. The right will attack entire groups of people who don't have the right values as individuals. Therefore, the right is willing to unite with people it disagrees with because those disagreements are part of the life of an individualist, but collectively they hate this other group more and they have that in common. Meanwhile the left is trying to figure out which single persons belong in or out of the collective which makes us far more likely to attack our allies over trivial matters, because we consider the purity of the person beside us to be a reflection on our own purity.

The hidden rules

The thing is - and trying to put this politely is difficult - white people who are queer tend to engage in this purity-testing a lot more often than others. Black people and people of colour, and those with multiple intersections of disability, are already used to forgiving others a lot or gritting their teeth and bearing things. As members of a visible majority in North America, we feel confident in our ability to reject others and replace them as need be. We're inherently comfortable, a lot of the time, in the belief that someone else will come around and fill the empty seat, because there are just so many white and queer people. This can be less true for transgender people, but the squabbles I've seen online suggest that the sense of white social complacency is still basically applicable.

This is not to excuse myself. When I was a teenager, and even in my early twenties, it seemed a lot more important to be strict about whom I interacted with, within the left, and how they perceived things. As much as micro-aggressions and macro-aggressions both matter, and as much as both can grind us down - those of us with the emotional resources and privilege to do so need to be aware of our padding. (That's not just a pun on my own weight, but hey! I can't resist a punchline.)

Forgiveness and calling in

Since our family expanded to a third person, our housemate and queer-platonic partner Kit, we've had a lot more small discussions about being offended and annoyed. Honestly, instead of making fights or tension worse, it tends to disperse them. Anyone who lives with someone else will be familiar with the struggle of doing dishes, making food, handling laundry, cleaning the house, dealing with work duties, and arranging transportation. But being clear yet tactful about one's feelings can handle conflict far better, and keep it from becoming "a thing."

The same is true of our long-running D&D group and some of my various friend groups. Learning to filter my communication to people, talk to them after the rush of emotions, and avoiding that ever-so-tempting duel of witticisms that is the Facebook philosophical fight, have all been really good for both myself and the people around me.

Ultimately, we have to ask ourselves - what are we trying to accomplish? If the answer to that is "protection of people's human rights," then the only people really worth kicking out are trans-exclusionary radical feminists (TERFs), sex-work exclusionary radical feminists (SWERFs), and people who have exhibited a pattern of abuse without repentance.

Everyone else? Well, maybe we need to be honest about our hurt feelings, cool off a bit, and try to talk stuff out in private.

Does that mean we need to forgive abusers?

Ooof. Even with a counselling degree and many years of sad-violin life experience, I don't know if I'm equipped to answer this one. Apart from saying, "it's a case-by-case basis, but worry about the people who aren't just rude, but really dangerous," I'm not sure what to recommend.

Maybe we just need to stop sanctifying and demonizing people, and present them - both celebrities and individuals - as complex people with tokens on both the good and bad sides of the scale.

I do think that there are cases where people can reform. I hate to be mealy-mouthed or seem indecisive, but if internal politics were easy to handle, the left wouldn't be falling apart like an improperly-chilled gelatin dessert.

Ultimately, all I can recommend are emotional self-validation, politeness, patience, and forgiveness with each other. We are stronger together, and since we, in multiple countries, have to fight to maintain our very existence, we need to defend each other's existence.

Maybe this means forgiving someone you're still mad at. Maybe this means going to apologize to someone. But with actual far-right activists, neo-nationalists, anti-choice activists, and violent racists and transphobes in the streets, and more active and internationally validated than ever, we simply can't afford the ephemeral and impossible luxury of complete ideological purity.

Does this mean allying with people we disagree with? Well, as long as they're not advocating for killing us...maybe yes. But again, my tired and beleaguered siblings and family, those of us who are white need to do the work on this. Reach out to others. Offer comfort. Give forgiveness - after you're done being mad. Sleep on things.

Nobody else is going to fight for our lives.

***Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime, housemate, and their cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and nightmares, as well as social justice issues. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. The mailing list * Books on Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram *  Facebook * Tumblr * Blog

[meditationsinausterity]

Self Care on a Shoestring: Skincare

I can't help but be annoyed that the phrase 'self-care' these days means little more than an excuse to instagram yourself in the bath or buy a new nail varnish, when to those actively participating in any kind of therapy it means so much more. It's the endless chronicling of activity to notice patterns, the developing of coping strategies and systems to break them, the non-stop monitoring of behaviours that take you away from or towards your goal. Not to mention reminding yourself to eat, to get fresh air, to spend time around the people that make you feel like you can truly be yourself. Sometimes it's as simple as opening the curtains; sometimes it's as intense as having a conversation with someone about the fact that the social behaviours they expect of you are in direct conflict with your best interests.

Still, it is what it is, and self-care has become tied up very much with the idea of personal grooming, so it's the term I'll go with. I'm not going to deny that there is an element of wellbeing maintenance in taking care of your appearance. i know for a fact that if i get anxious, the way i look is often the first noticeable sign of slippage. And conversely, that sometimes standing under the shower methodically shampooing my hair can feel like the most infinitely head-clearing, mindful experience.

In an appearance-obsessed culture it's a dangerous gambit to propose that you have to look good to feel good, and it's not one I'm prepared to set my stock in as a way to live. For one thing, I don't have any beauty products to sell you when you get the subsequent fear. For another, everybody's mileage varies on what 'best' means, and that is fine. i get bored of adverts telling me I'm not enough, and i don't really want to add to that noise.

I am, however, incredibly vain, or rather, incredibly honest about it. I have been reflecting lately on a lot of my flaws; impatience, stubbornness, etc. and realizing that I'm not much more so than a lot of people I know, i just admit to it openly, but more on that another time. I'm also very interested in fashion, and by extension, beauty. When I have money, I do splurge on products for my appearance, but when I don't, I'm also pretty good at improvising solutions to take time for the beauty rituals that make me feel put together, pretty and stylish, without spending. The beauty industry thrives on the thrill of the new, of the purchase, of the sale, and it's pretty easy to get caught up in that product-lust, and feel all the consumer envy and anxiety that comes with not having enough spending power to participate. My approach to it all is a lot more laid back than it used to be; I focus less on the purchase, more on techniques and ritual that are of benefit and feel relaxing and luxurious.

So I thought I'd talk about how I keep myself feeling and looking on point with fuck all in the bank. And given a discussion with my friend Lou and I had over breakfast the other day in which I announced that I prioritise skincare over makeup because 'I can wash off a drawn on face, I only get one real one', I thought i would start with skincare. I mean, it's the building blocks of anything else you do to your face, and you do it every day, so it's important, right? I'm only going into what I do here, because it's all I'm qualified to talk about, so if you're happy with soap and water, or you want a full ten step k-beauty style regime, go you. But if I can teach anyone how to save a quid or try something they didn't know about in their grooming, then I'm doing what I set out to do.

(I didn't want this to be a product picture heavy post as that goes against what I'm trying to tell you, so I dug out a load of makeup free pictures of myself to illustrate that I have quite a good point when it comes to skincare)

Buying skincare

Okay, I know I said this wasn't about the purchase power angle, but obviously there are certain things you will regularly buy. So this is my hustler's advice to get them for the cheapest you physically can.

The first thing I'll say here is, HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO BRAND LOYALTY. If a beauty brand wants you to ship them, you shouldn't have to pay for your shit. Sure, if you find something you love, and wanna carry on using it, and it's within your means, go ahead, but these products are not essentials, or must haves. They are jars of goo. Mostly very similar ones. Most products that claim to do similar things will, indeed, do very similar things, at radically different price points. I love fragrance and packaging as much as the next person, but they don't make me feel ten times more beautiful, so I'm not paying ten times what I would for them.

On a related note; buying a more expensive product and skimping on application is a fool's errand. Get the cheaper one and use it as it was intended. Active ingredients have a job to do, and if you're not using enough of them, you may as well not be, so buying something that you feel is 'better' because it costs more and then applying it as though it were irreplaceable unicorn tears is a ridiculous waste of your time. Plus, it's not very self-caring to treat your face as if it's only worthy of half measures now, is it? you're gonna need the full whack for proper facial massage and shit anyway. Be realistic.

And back to brand loyalty. Don't be loyal where you shop, either. Everywhere needs your business these days, we're in recession. Anywhere that sells skincare will have countless promos on it, and you can use this to your advantage to stretch your buck as far as possible. I will admit, i do gravitate back to superdrug regularly, because they do court my business in such a way: they almost always have 3 for 2's combined with freebies and great introductory offers, but I also consider: supermarkets, health food stores, ethnic groceries, poundland wholesalers, and the fronts of magazines I'd be buying anyway (or that work out cheaper than buying the product); when I'm looking for what I need. By the same token, I'll warn you off blindly buying at the supermarket. Unless we're talking about the two teutonic loves of my life, Lidl and Aldi, it's not a given that what you chuck in with your fruit and veg will actually be a better bargain than you get elsewhere. Sometimes it really can be (it's worth keeping your eyes peeled for reductions because of packaging changes, for example), but oftentimes they rely on the fact that you are being economical with your time to charge you more for what's probably a pretty basic product.

And lastly; the more you know about your skin, the better you can treat it. When I talk about what I do, I'll be focusing pretty intensely on what works for my skin type, knowledge of which comes from years of having lived with my skin, reading about skincare wherever I can, listening to people who know what they're on about (but not always buying what they were selling), and some trial and error. having some basic knowledge of what active ingredients work for you and what to look for is your ally in avoiding unnecessary spends.

By the same token, if you try something and it doesn't work, give it to a mate. It's better than it sitting on a shelf unloved, and it'll probably make your mate's day, as it's an unexpected little treat. My friends and I have been doing this for years, and it's an excellent way to both give and receive a little mood lift, and make sure nothing goes to waste.

(even as a heavy smoker my skin hasn't aged that much, so there must be method in my madness)

Cleanse

This step is so key. When I slack with it the difference in my skin texture is noticeable almost immediately. This may be because i have savagely oily skin so my pores block up at the drop of a hat, but getting into a proper cleansing routine has drastically improved this. I favour an old school, oil based cleanser and facecloth route, so that I can incorporate facial massage, because I clench my jaw in my sleep and when I'm stressed. I am currently using superdrug's own B. range micellar cleansing oil, but i dot about buying whatever is cheapest or on best offer. I've been known to use coconut oil (that holy grail of versatile beauty products, I've got a cracked lip and am applying it as lipbalm as we speak), or in a pinch, whatever oil is in my kitchen cupboard, the important thing is the technique.

Apply it liberally to your face and neck (I use about a 50p sized amount to start and add more if i've not got significant lubrication). use small upward, circular motions to massage the skin. If you have large pores like me you may actually be able to feel some physical extraction and unclogging of your pores. Gross, but satisfying. I take the time to do some tension relieving massage as well; using my ring fingers i apply pressure in outward streaking strokes along my eye sockets and browbones, then I rest the cups of my palms under my cheekbones firmly, and slowly open my mouth (you'll feel real muscle resistance and then release as you do this - it's amazing for if you grind your teeth in your sleep or when you're stressed). Lastly I use the bent knuckles of my index and ring fingers to firmly work outwards from my chin along my jawbone in small, tight circles (again, if you have any points of tension you'll feel them and be able to concentrate on those areas). These massage techniques are awesome for puffiness in the morning and your facial muscles feel super relaxed after; they are also effective with a foam based facewash if that's your bag.

To take off the cleanser off I soak a lightly textured facecloth or flannel in hot (not too hot, let's not get any broken veins here) water, hold the whole thing over my face for a brief steam and a few deep breaths, then in brisk upward circular strokes, set about removal, focusing on problem areas (for me, my nose and chin). Squeaky clean, and relaxed.

As a footnote, I will say that I can't always be arsed if I've been up late, or I've got better things to do like get laid, I used to rely on facewipes to save the day. I still currently have a pack in my bag for when I stay at he who I shall call the bedfellow's house (I knew I'd cave to a moniker for convenience's sake eventually), but I'll actually vouch that Micellar water and a cotton wool pad is far better value for money per use. not my preferred method, and for me, not sustainable for any lengthy period of time, because my pores suffer, but far better than no cleanse at all.

Tone

I tend to fuck toner off a lot of the time. It's actually not a beauty industry secret that most of them don't do an awful lot, and counter girls the world over, if asked to sacrifice one step of a three-step program, will axe toner without blinking. It's not on your skin for as long as anything else, so it's not as crucial. Its job is to remove any last vestiges of cleanser, and tighten the pores, and you know what else does that? Freezing cold water. I can't remember the last time I bought a commercial toner. If I'm having a particularly breakout-y vibe I'll either buy a bottle of witch hazel, or brew some green tea and have it in the fridge to swipe over my face. but mostly, icy cold water does me beautifully, especially since my face is already wet given my cleansing method.

(unless you count the glitter smeared on me here by a three year old, the no makeup vibe here is strong, I don't think I'd be as confident in my skin if I didn't take care of it)

Moisturise

The most vital step. And the thing you should spend most money on, as it is actually absorbed into your skin. Having said that, I can't remember the last time I spent more than a fiver on one, and the almighty coconut oil can step in here again if needs be (If you take nothing else from this, take the fact that one jar of coconut oil can do everything you need, and it costs 2.99 at Lidl, and considerably less in most Indian and Caribbean groceries). I'm currently using B. for Superdrug's B. radiant day cream (are you feeling that 3 for 2 vibe yet?) but I have a bag of bog standard Boots own fragrance free moisturiser in my bag for bedtimes and mornings when I am not in my bed. I also have a half a tube of Soap and Glory's The Fab Pore on my dressing table, that I use sparingly because it's got some aggressive AHA's (alpha hydroxy acids - they basically kick skin debris in the dick, it's like sandblasting your face), which my skin occasionally needs if I'm suffering dullness, but if I use it regularly I get irrritated skin.

Moisturiser is probably where you most need to look for key active ingredients for your skin type, which is where that basic awareness of your skin comes in. Bear in mind, though, that the industry thrives on the new, so these ingredients will trend and then be superseded by something new in order to sell more shit. There'll always be new breakthroughs because there'll always be more product to sell that way. My age, and my oiliness taken into consideration, I tend to look for vitamin C, anything that says brightening or radiance boosting, and hyaluronic acid, an ingredient that locks water into the skin cells . But as i said, I'll take anything, as long as I can apply it liberally, in upward strokes, and always to the neck as well. never forget your neck.

(Fresh out of the shower and freshly moisturised, I actually often wish I could preserve this glow all day, which is what products that contain hyaluronic acid strive to do)

Additional products

Now, that's enough, really, if kept up regularly. And the routines and techniques performed day and night do feel luxurious, and like you're looking after yourself. You don't necessarily need all the serums, primers, masks, and targeted creams that you're told you do, but they can feel like a nice extra treat for you on a shitty day, and they do get results, so I'll run through what I must regularly indulge in.

Masks.

Oh masks. If you believe Instagram, we've reached peak face mask. There are so many different kinds that there aren't enough weeks in the year to try them all, and still they come. I acquire most of mine through three-for-twos, or as samples. I try and do at least one a week, usually two. One a deep cleansing clay-based one (at the moment i've got Soap and Glory's The Fab Pore, which also has glycolic acid, another great skin-resurfacing enzyme, but I've had that jar since Christmas and it's showing no signs of quitting on me yet), and the other a glycolic peel (B. by superdrug's at the moment). Because of my skin type, constantly clearing surface debris is really good for the condition of my skin, and anything that deep cleanses is always a good shout. I can also be tempted by thermal clay masks in winter, to boost my circulation, I seem to remember the most afforable one I found was by Sanctuary, and not more than a fiver in boots.

If I do not have time or access to such products, however, I do not cry about it. Life goes on, and I doubt anyone really notices but me, it's so much more a ritualistic thing that I do to feel like I am taking time for myself.

Eye Creams.

About the only sign I have of aging bar the odd grey hair is little crinkles around my eyes (I smile a lot). I don't really like them. I also get puffy eyes a lot (it's easy to make me cry, which is not a challenge by the way). I am not fussy about what I use, mine's from Aldi's Lacura range, and cost me about three quid, but kept in the fridge, and patted on when my eyes feel tired or sore, it is the most soothing thing. I can't honestly say if it makes a difference or not, but it feels so good that when I can make it part of my routine I do.

Spot treatments.

Fuck them. a bottle of tea tree oil is much cheaper, does the same thing, and has multiple other uses. Likewise TCP if we're being real here.

So concludes my initial skincare on the cheap outline. I imagine it'll be one of the more in depth pieces I write on self care, because I don't mind admitting that I am pretty lazy in a lot of other areas, and somehow manage to spend even less. I'm a sucker for a good beauty tip, especially a budget one, so I'd be really interested to hear everybody else's.

[zubelcas-blog]

Final reflection

Before I undertook any CAS activities, I had to become cognizant of my flaws and qualities, what lies ny my nature, and what kind of an action I would never have taken had it not been for CAS. As such, firstly I focused on my psyche. As identified my psychologists that I’m an antisocial type with adhd and a slight aspergers. Despite this, around my peers I always strive to be in the center of attention. After examining my conscience, I must say that out of my school experience, I don’t do my duties diligently, especially those towards others. Hence the biggest challenge for me, was doing service, where my actions are to be about them only. It is the case, because dealing with other people is my biggest weakness. As such I have taken up volunteering at a local allotment housing complex where I could help often elderly pensioners with their daily struggles.

 When it comes to Activity, I focused on myself, thus my choice was an individual sport that is running. The basis of such a choice being the ease of doing the activity itself, yet the challenge was in the planning and being thorough. Which was a new experience, as I had never imposed such a program on myself, I was both a coach and a contestant.

As part of Creativity, I explored my hitherto passion that is music, about which I had already written my Extended Essay, thus a natural flow of things would be to transition from merely listening to music, to making it myself.

               The biggest challenge, and as it soon turned out, the most gratifying, was working at the allotment housing. The gardening community, mainly comprised of elderly people, unbeknownst of my motivation, has given me a lot of trust. First two people who have responded to my initial ad in which I was offering free aid, had quite a bit of distrust and reserve heard in their voice. It was only after doing the first few works, getting to know me, that I was asked for noticeably more help. As a growing token of trust I was being given increasingly important jobs, and even keys to people’s gardens. In addition to these works, I got to talk to these people, who sometimes treated me a bit like they would their step grandson. As old people, they’d keep repeating the same tales, but it made me ever more patient. Initially it was a bit irritating, but I withheld my own need to talk, and for once I wasn’t the center of attention.

               Stories of this generation are completely alien to me. Their everyday issues, such as diseases, medication, pensions, are all problems that haven’t yet been relevant to my life. As time went on, with authentic attention I’d listen to what they had to say. I can safely state, that I found some kind of empathy in myself, not solely stemming from the fact that some of these people are not long for this world, but rooted in respect to their lives.

               From my observation it would seem that these elderly people are often poor and lonely. This loosely knit group is often the second, sometimes sadly the only family they have. There were also cases where I’d know from word of mouth that someone has been estranged by their family because of their own doing. It wasn’t my goal to actively seek into their past, but it got me thinking. If someone was a bad human being, are they now but an old bad human being, or just an old human being? Do they deserve help because they are lonely, even though they have deserved it? I had to cut out all this pondering and theory making, as I felt not competent enough to judge their life decisions, as such I

would help anyone no matter the gossip. But now it’s got me thinking, that I may have helped some people that I normally wouldn’t have helped had it not been for the fact that they’re old.

Integration of the whole allotment community that I participated in whilst organizing the community gardener’s day, is in my opinion a much needed thing, as it draws people closer, and above all, it is beneficial to the eldest, for whom this day is often more cherished than Christmas. As time went on, my computer skills have also proven useful, as it turned out, people who have lived through a world war and communism, have been beaten by technological progress. In cooperation with the administration, I created, and since manage the official e-mail of the complex. I send email to different institutions, download and print new acts and laws. I noticed that despite how tough it is already for these people, its them who are expected to adapt to the world, not the other way around. More and more services are only available online. When I first offered my help, as a child brought up in a digital world, I had wrongly presumed that they’d need only the power of my muscle. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that someone would be more able to burrow a garden than to “google” something.

                 I’m surprised that my work for the gardens whether taking the trash out or writing some mails, has been met with such appreciation, I got a lot of thanks, and even a postcard for Christmas. It was maybe 10% of my free time, and things that come naturally to me, but as it would seem, I have done 100% of what was expected of me. These two years have proven that when providing help, the thing of utmost importance, is to listen to the needs of the receiver.

               As Activity, I just ran, which wasn’t that easy in and of itself. Till then I’d only run only when I felt like it. Running comes naturally to me, but only on long distances, this being the case due to my thin posture -173 cm/53kg, practically the same as top Kenyan or Ethiopian marathon runners. This time in order to prepare for a run I had to create a training schedule. Above all I wanted to break my natural laziness and chaotic behavior. Get a grip on natural expression, and impose certain actions. Of course the plan was based on internet articles, it included running in set intervals, jog and sprint in turns. Planned running, required an insane amount of self-discipline, I’d practically run with a clock in my hand. Such running was void of romanticism, there was no time to put a foot after foot with no care in the world. I have verified my goals, and understood that it isn’t my intention to improve my running technique, maximize my efficiency, and minimize mistakes, but to run for pleasure – I do it because I like doing it. The point is to feel the bliss of it, fatigue and an imperfect technique are a part of my way to do it. I chose pleasure over a strict training, that, granted, would increase my performance, but this regime takes the fun away. Of course I haven’t ceased running, I also haven’t dragged myself into the mass culture of modern day running. Where image of a runner is more important than how far you are able to run, the big sports companies are actively fiending on amateur runners. Sports’ portals, companies, personal trainers keep telling you that to achieve success you need a certain pair of running shoes, breathing sweatshirts and accessories. And with all the ever present smartphone applications that deprive runners of liberty. They tell them when to stop, because they ran the daily quota, inform when to go for a run as you haven’t done that in x hours. Worst of all, they make some people run just for attention in the social media, by publishing screenshots with the amount of kilometers ran. Within the society of parrot-like dressed runners, wearing a plain white t shirt is viewed as lame. All in all, I have not revolutionized my running lifestyle, but I have seen the other side of the coin, and the culture of new age runners that I don’t want to have anything in common. That’s why I don’t partake in mass organized runs, I only run when I have free time and the will to do so. Changing my approach to running to that organized and scheduled one, was the hardest part of my activity experience. It required me to change my running habits, which I was able to do, but what I wasn’t able to change is my approach to running, for I see it as a goal, and these articles, as well as these afore criticized runners see it as a tool only.

 Since mid-2015, I’ve been producing some music, As I already established, for instance by writing an extended essay on the topic of AAVE, my music taste, especially at that time, consisted mostly of hip hop. So it was only natural, that by extension, I’d take up digital music production, given how most hip hop instrumentals are done this way. This is akin to someone who’s into rock music, starting to play guitar. Now initially, it really was just mindless tinkering, for the fact that the learning curve is very steep, what translates to the fact that just to get a grip of the basics on using a given program, one has to sink in tens of hours. People take literal courses just for that, I took the self-taught route, with my DAW (digital audio workstation) of choice being FL Studio. I had never really engaged myself in any downright and entirely creative activities. This took a toll on my judgment, taught me a lesson or two. I’ve had it happen to me again and again, where, having spent hours on a particular beat or just a sliver of a sound, I would go to sleep tired but satisfied, thinking that I’ve just made something of value, play it back the next day and drown in frustration. I’m fairly certain that any amateur producer has experienced this. But the lesson is broader, it above all was a humbling experience. I was taught that creative work is subjective in essence. Just as I’ve found out the hard way that creative processes need the maker to be “in the zone”. I can’t just sit to it on any given day. It has to be THAT day. I finally understood why in Hollywood movies, there’s a stereotype of a writer who rents a house on the countryside, often abroad, away from the noise and commotion. For that reason, filling an hour grid is impossible in nature. I was also taught that beauty indeed is in the “ear” of the beholder. As there have been times when I would send a piece to a friend, asking “how bad is it?”, only to have them reply “it’s fantastic”. Initially, my plan was to create a beat mixtape in a rather grimy boom bap style, but since then my overall direction has changed tides numerous times. When you produce something, you have to live it. The way I listen to the music itself has altered thanks to this venture. Weird as it may come off, I no longer do it for the pleasure only. It has become quite a grueling experience, that’s about deciphering a composition, the nitty-gritty of how something was made sound the way it does. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that every time I listen to music I engage in a creative process, via reverse engineering so to speak. Ask me 5 years ago what’s a chord, I wouldn’t be able to tell. It’s a drastic statement, but it encapsulates the creative part of personal growth that I’ve gone through over the past three years. As such, I’ve undertaken a new challenge, and shown enough perseverance over the years to pull through and grow in the areas that I’ve always wanted to.