#genuinely felt like making a little micro essay

[infinitesnowpro]

let the bodies hit the floor

(source text by @utopians)

[annunakitty]

I've been addicted to Yakuza 0 and I'm so glad that I gave it a shot because it's an excellent game. I've heard that it's the grind-iest of the Yakuza games, but despite that I'm really enjoying it. I love the two main protagonists; Kiryu is a little bit of a dipshit but love that he always tries to do the right thing, and ngl Majima is my fave; I love the whole "scary looking gruff dude" who's actually a complete and total sweetheart thing.

I think what impresses me most is the animations. There are three kinds of rendering going on in the game, which is kinda wild; obviously there's the pre-rendered cutscenes, and there's the general-purpose renderer for most of the gameplay, but then there's a more advanced renderer for non-pre-rendered cutscenes and more closed and intimate scenes, where the animations are just... impeccable. Particularly the facial animations, though this game isn't photorealistic sometimes the way the eyes and skin and mouths are animated they somehow MOVE so real.

I first really noticed it with Majima's boss, Sagawa-sama. The imperfections they gave the textures for his face despite not being photorealistic in rendering, the animating felt like I was looking at a real guy.

Then I got to the Cabaret Club and the "customer service training" (dating sim) you can do with the Platinum girls, and micro-movements in the eyes as they flit back and forth, the way they "smize," the movement of eyebrows when they talk, the way the model's "skin" deforms around the mouth and cheeks when they talk, the way the bottom lip puffs out when they pout or scrunches when they're annoyed, it's like... Almost eerie. It's not in the uncanny vally, but it's so far on the side of realism that it feels like I'm looking at a real person.

I think game devs can learn a LOT from this game's animations. I think the closest I've seen to this quality of facial animations was in Horizon: Zero Dawn, maybe Dad of Boy (God of War), but both of those fell short in various ways. Horizon's characters just had kinda dead eye-d stares, and God of War... Well, GoW's animations were pretty beautiful, and the graphic are better than Y0 in general, but the facial animations didn't blow me away quite like this.

Anyway, that's my Yakuza 0 dump. Play this game.

CW for transphobia, there's a character called "Pleasure King" in Kiryu's story that is a trans woman but everyone refers to as a man with he/him pronouns, and Kiryu treats her as kinda gross. Similarly there's a bartender called Mama-san in the bar Earth Angel who is a trans woman, there's a substory involving her that's kinda gross. It's more than a little sexist, too, but imho makes up for it with how kind and chivalrous the two protags are even.

Honestly I kinda want to write a video essay about the sexism in this game because it's a very interesting blend and contrast of real-world sexism and absurd sexist caricatures, and I think it's worth exploring how Kiryu and Majima navigate that world that is for men while (mostly) genuinely respecting the women around them. It's kinda fascinating

Anyway, bye

[moiranetex]

Harry Potter - 1 Element idk

Erm idk what this is really. I’ve been wanting to start this story for ages so i did. It’s a bit of a mess and im not entirely sure if I like all the details. Its unedited but idc. 

The fire in the Gryffindor common room burned brightly on the eve of the second night back at Hogwarts. Classes were back in full swing, a new batch of  first years were wondering around completely lost and Hermione Granger was completing a potions essay 2 weeks in advance, in the corner of the room. It was getting increasingly difficult as none of her peers seemed to share her motivation nor her ability to be quiet. Ronald Weasley had just flipped a game of Wizards chess, that he was playing with Harry Potter, off one of the many couches that were positioned around the room. The pieces scattered all over the carpet in front of the fire as Harry, along with others, roared with laughter. Hermione concluded that this must have been one of the very rare times Harry managed to beat Ronald at the game. While little groups were placed all around the large room either chatting, reading, gossiping, playing, napping or participating in more scandalous activities, a large group surrounded two Weasley siblings in particular. Hermione knew that Fred and George Weasley were almost certainly in the process of selling their joke products to unsuspecting teenagers in their own hilariously obvious version of a black market. She huffed to herself, frustrated that she would be once again interrupted. She was after all a prefect and probably the only person in the room equipped with enough wit to go up against the twins. She felt her cheeks go red with anger, however, just as she was preparing herself for the argument that would surely ensue, the portrait that served as an entrance into the Gryffindor quarters was opened and Professor McGonagall strolled through, her beady eyes instantly taking in the scene. Chaos ensued for a good 10 seconds as students hid whatever needed to be hidden, stopped swapping spit, ceased shouting and turned respectfully towards their head of house. The Weasley twins took advantage of the large amount of students blocking their view to stash their outrageous stock. Professor Mcgonagall pursed her lips distastefully at her students, not a thing slipping past her. She chose not to comment or dole out punishments as she was, despite never admitting it, both bias and genuinely fond of every student in her house. Her eyes settled on Hermione as she started to speak in her distinguished Scottish accent

“Miss Granger, would you kindly accompany me to Dumbledores office. Apparently there is a new student joining us, she will be in your year and as you are prefect it seems only logic that she should be put under your care.”

Immediately whispers broke out among the students. It was extremely rare for someone to arrive at Hogwarts after the first year. There were those that came back slightly later from vacation, but there had only ever been a handful  in this situation.

“It probably means she was attending a different school, an International student. Thats so fun!”

“Yeah, unless she’s been shipped in from Durmstrang, then you better stick clear of her.”

“Durmstrang is a school for boys you idiot, and it probably means she’s homeschooled, so either super rich or super poor, there really is no in between.”

“Bloody hell I hope not. Remember that Slytherin chap that had been homeschooled ‘till year 7, he was a right weirdo. Even the Slytherins didn’t like him and they like anyone pure and rich.”

“SILENCE,” shouted a fed up Mcgonogall. It was starting to get late and she wasn’t in the mood for the gossip flying around her common room.

“Firstly I don’t even know why the majority of you are still up at this hour, I technically don’t have the right to dictate what time you choose to put yourself to bed but I can certainly change that if I happen to observe that it isn’t to complete schoolwork,” she sent a particularly scathing look at the Weasley twins her who, in return, smiled politely at her as innocently as they could manage.

“And Second of all, although I don’t know her very well yet I can assure you she isn’t some type of ‘weirdo’ as you have so gracefully put it Ronald. Now Hermione if you wouldn’t mind,” she gestured into the hallway, clearly wanting to get this over with.

                                                          …

Hermione eyes widened as she took in the people currently in Dumbledore’s office. Unfortunately Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin in her year, and his best friend Blaise Zabini were there, scowls gracing both their faces. Blaise was sat in one of the two seats in front of the Heads desk while Draco was perched on the edge of on of the smaller tables in the room. Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house and the bane of the majority of Gryffindors existence, stood in the corner with his normal grimace. Professor Dumbledore sat in his chair, behind his large desk with a pleasant smile on his lips and a baby phoenix in his hand. Finally in the second chair to Blaise’s right sat one of the most beautiful girls Hermione had ever seen. The girl had dark caramel skin, not dissimilar to Blaise. Her hair flowed down to her lower back in brown micro braids, the front being pinned back so as to not get in the way, however a few pieces were spared to frame her face. She had large brown eyes  coupled with thick lashes. She had plump lips, dimples and a small nose that contained a tiny gold piercing. Immediately Hermione noticed two things. Firstly, she shared two many characteristics with the boy beside her for them to not be closely related. The same skin tone, full mouth and thick eyebrows, however they also had the same air of superiority, grace and poise that accompanied all rich, pureblood individuals. Secondly, Hermione noted that she was groomed to perfection, only serving to prove her theory further. She was already in the Hogwarts uniform, though lacking the tie. There wasn’t a single crease in her attire, it looked expensive and well made. Her fingernails were manicured, a shiny cherry red color was glaring against the darker hues of her uniform and looked slightly out of place. Hermione observed a thin layer of makeup on the girl to accentuate her features, along with what was clearly real gold jewellery in the form of rings, a necklace, and her nose piercing.

After making these observations, Hermione concluded that she was surely dealing with some sort of pureblood brat and therefore was rather shocked when the girl gave her a large and seemingly genuine smile, her white teeth accentuated by the shiny gloss on her lips. Hermione smiled back, somewhat apprehensively but as a general rule she didn’t like to let stereotypes define how she saw people.

“Ah Hermione, come in. We were just having a little chat,” murmured Dumbledore. At this statement, Draco Malfoy lifted his head up to look at Blaise Zabini who was, for lack of a better word, fuming. Blaise was never someone who talked a lot or was overly expressive. Because of his height, good looks and general ability to intimidate people he never blended into the background but he was usually stoic, a living statue. Around his friends he was a little more open, and those who knew him very well or had had the occasion to witness him drunk knew he could be funny and open however he had always been a man of few words and was incredibly private. Draco Malfoy was almost his polar opposite, not only in appearance with his silver hair and pale skin, but also in personality. It was hard to get Malfoy to shut up a majority of the time. While he too was conventionally attractive, rather tall and certainly domineering, he loved to talk, particularly if it mean making fun of people. He, like Blaise, was intelligent and had a quick wit which he loved to share. While it was difficult to get information out of Blaise about essentially anything, Draco was an open book to such a point that he could be considered insufferable at times, even by those who loved him.  

Severus Snape, observing his two students, felt it was a good time to intervene. Not only was he bias towards members of his own house, he held an actual fondness for the two boys in front of him and the fact that he was very close to both their parents, who would absolutely be hearing about this, meant he felt somewhat of a responsibility towards the girl in the chair. The fact that she was his goddaughter didn’t escape him either.

“Dumbledore, with respect I find it…,” he paused for a second, trying to find a polite and sophisticated way to say that there was no bloody way he would allow his only goddaughter to be placed into Gryffindor.

“-preposterous to entertain the mere thought of Miss Zabini entering into Gryffindor. She would be much better suited to Slytherin, with her brother and friends. I’m sure her parents, in particular her mother, would agree with me,” he drawled, bringing up the one thing that may possibly force the stubborn Headmaster to change his mind and defy the ragged hat that currently sat on his desk.

“Come now Severus, the hat has placed her into Gryffindor and so it must be fate. I can assure you if Carmen Zabini has any other problems she can always contact me, I would be happy to deal with her,” Dumbledore replied cheerily, however it was obvious to everyone in the room that the discussion was tense and the mention of Mrs. Zabini had been employed as some sort of threat.

“Bloody hat,” mumbled a frustrated Zabini, not as discreetly as he perhaps should have.

“This is ridiculous, she cant go into Gryffindor. She’s a pureblood and she already knows us all, it’s idiotic. Not only will you have her mother breaking down the door of this school, but my father will have something to say about it too,” interrupted Malfoy after seeing just how angry his friend was.

Just as Dumbledore opened his mouth to respond the girl spoke for the first time since Hermione arrived. Turning around to look Draco in the eye, almost challenging him. She had quite a soft voice that was comforting and sounded sweet, even as she spoke icily to Malfoy. Hermione couldn’t really place the accent. It had some weird intonations from what was probably Italian, and while it was closest to a high class english accent, some words slid out sounding american.

“Draco, stop. This is ridiculous, it’s just a house. There are pure-bloods in Gryffindor, not that it matters. And I while I do have the most friends in Slytherin I know some people in other houses. Anyway it’s an opportunity to meet new people. As for mother I already had a discussion about this before coming here, if she has further issues she can take it up with my father,” she took a deep breath and then turned to her brother, speaking in a much lower tone she continued

“-and I know you’re worried about me but you are completely overreacting Blaise. We’ll still see each other all the time and I’ll even wear that idiotic watch that mother sent you if you’re absolutely serious about it.”

“Oh, I am,” muttered Blaise, giving his sister his full attention, his dark eyes still glittering in anger. He looked quite terrifying, thought Hermione.

“The Weasleys barely count as pureblood Magda,” snorts Draco in the most incredible display of brattiness and bad timing that he was capable.

Immediately all eyes were on him, he didn’t seems to regret what he said however.

“Yes thank you for that Malfoy, I’m sure thats what everyone needed to hear,” the girl, who Hermione had now learned was named Magda, said with utmost sarcasm.

“Well, if that’s all-” Magda stood up abruptly, clearly sick of the back and forth that was heading nowhere. She bent down, giving her brother a kiss on the cheek and then went over to Draco, who lowered his head so she could do the same.

“You’re an idiot. Goodnight,” she whispered, still glaring at him. Both boys frustrated her, Draco more so than her own brother but she never liked going to bed angry, especially with those she loved.

“Just doing my job aren’t I?” He replied sarcastically giving her a little grin. She rolled her eyes before nodding at Snape who nodded back to her, never being one for affection. She then strolled over to stand next to Hermione.

“Thank you very much Professor Dumbledore, Professor Mcgonnogall. If that is all I do apologise for I’m rather tired and would probably benfit from some rest,” she smiled at Dumbledore who smiled back.

“Of course Miss. Zabini, you and Hermione may go. I didn’t realise this little meeting would take so long.”

Both girls departed as quickly as they could, but not before hearing Mcgonogall and Snape arguing over whether Slytherin house should lose points over Draco’s ‘insensitive’ comment.

“It was demeaning, rude and elitist. I say he should lose 20 points for that behaviour,” they heard Mcgonogall snap.

“You cant deduct points from students for stating mere facts Minnerva,” Snape replied cuttingly. After listening to Mcgonnagal splutter for about five seconds he rephrased his sentence.

“Malfoy was merely sharing an opinion, a point of view. Opinions are diverse, you cannot go around punishing people for them.”

“You bloody watch-”

                                                            …

[shitihaveheardatwork]

See You In Hell, Bratz Passion 4 Fashion: Diamondz!

Contrary to the opinions of many of my peers, I think weeding is awesome and I love it. There’s little I find more satisfying than an item of obviously low quality with no demand whatsoever coming into my attention and having the privilege of removing it from circulation.

Just to be entirely clear, we’re not talking about “extreme” or “controversial” content. I’ve had that conversation done to death a thousand classroom-polarizing times before. We’re talking about cheap. We’re talking about cash-grab. We’re talking about no artistic, cultural, spiritual, or even material value.

We’re talking about Bratz Passion 4 Fashion; Diamondz.

Some personal history first: I’m old enough that my last big toy phase before I reached the special level of adolescence where you have to openly condemn everything you once held dear as a child was Bionicles. I had the black bionicle from every generation up until that point, as well as a complete set of those little rolly-polly guys with the stretchy necks. I don’t know what they were called and I couldn’t be bothered to look it up for this lil micro-essay here.

What’s important is that they were cool. They did action-y stuff, I felt smart putting them together.

Waaaay Cooler, Smarter, Action-y, and REAL than my sister’s interests! Polly Pocket? Dumb! Pre-bronification MLP? Barf! Bratz? How fake can you get? Those were just shallow pieces of plastic made by toy companies. Not like my precious bionicles. So cool. So adult. So smart.

Then I watched the first Bionicle movie when it was on TV and realized I too was a cog in an elaborate toy commercial scheme. Something clicked in my horny mushy pre-teen brain, and I put away all my old favorite toys forever. It was now time to be shitty and elitist about intangible concepts instead, a hobby I’d keep until my early 20′s. But in addition to a change in hobbies, I also started to be a little bit less shit to my sister about her toys.

This confession out of the way, I don’t think my sister would have stopped me from throwing this DVD directly into the trash. My sister didn’t become a high-fallutin’ working-class intelligentsia asshole like her big brother, and we have nothing comparable in terms of media taste, but I think she would support me 100% if I told her I sent this DVD straight to hell. In fact I might call her later just to confirm. This disk was bad, is the moral of my story.

It took six paragraphs, but let’s talk about Day 3 on the job!

It was just me and Lisa today. I’ve upgraded from liking Lisa to absolutely loving working with Lisa. We talked everything from how her kids are doing to politics (she brought up Tr#mps latest satire-destroying phone call) to video-gaming to the history of animation. I genuinely like talking to her and it’s a shame she’s just filling in. If a job opens up at her branch, I’d apply for it, no question.

My boss Wallace, “Yer dad”-level queerphobe and Ron Swanson-esque libertarian, was putting out a metaphorical fire at another branch and I didn’t have to deal with him at all.

I did my opening routine. Checking the drop box, collecting the pull list, putting together holds, refiling returned materials, preparing ILL material, checking my work email, and the like. I was done with it all in about 90 minutes, with 4 hours left to go on my shift.

Wallace had told me to fill the time with anything I can qualify as “professional development” the week before, so I spent some time reading articles on the ALA website and googling “anarcho-librarianism” just to see what would happen. I found an abandoned blog and a twitter.

Then I remembered oh shit. I have to make a twitter don’t I

I don’t like twitter. I’ve tried to use it. I don’t get it. I’m too old to learn a new app. It’s impossible.

And yet I must. That’s where The Discourse is happening. That’s where the minds in my field are saying things. If I’m taking my career seriously, if I want to get a grip on the currents in my profession, I have to bite that checkmarked bullet. Stand by for updates on my professional twitter.

I got bored of being on the ALA site and ran out of productive things to google, and decided to look around the building for abandoned projects and mysteries to solve. It didn’t take long to find one, when I found a cart in the work room with a pile of DVDs in paper sleeves.

“Scratched” a post-it note on top said.

I asked Lisa if she knew how long these had been here, and she confirmed that they were in fact a hold-over from the previous staff that had left in a mass exodus some months before.

Well cool, I thought. I’ll see if these are too fucked up to play.

Commence with an hour of consuming children’s media, a few seconds of a minute at a time. I was fortunate that the work computers both had CD drives AND VLC media player! Thank you, past cool supervisor who put VLC on the work machines! Good call!

So I “watched” a few Dora The Explorers, a Care Bears film, that Trolls movie, Hotel Transylvania, and a Barbie horse adventure film, watching a few seconds before skipping a minute ahead to see if it would choke and skip.

See here’s the thing about scratched CDs. They’re weird. You can have a CD that’s fucked up completely (looking at you, my copy of Rollercoaster Tycoon 1) that still somehow plays fine like it just came out of the box. Sometimes scratches will seem totally superficial but goof up just enough microscopic binary that no machine will touch it. All these DVDs were ugly as sin, but that didn’t mean they were broken did it?

And it turns out a lot of them worked fine. That’s how I ended up watching Bratz Passion 4 Fashion: Diamondz which, unfortunately, played fine.

As I put the disk into the drive I remembered my sister’s participation in the Bratz toy craze. As an adult, a real one not the one I told myself I was at 13, I told myself that I might have a bias against this content, to just check the disk and not get judgy about what might be a kids favorite movie.

I uh... I failed to do that. BUT IT’S OK BECAUSE MY BIAS IS TOTALLY JUSTIFIED AND MY JUSTIFICATION IS RIGHT HERE

If you didn’t or don’t want to click the link, it’s a scene where the Bratz Diamonds are about to head out on some sort of fashion trucking marathon/race. Like any proper racer, the blonde at the wheel has a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, has just put their rig in gear, and in proper high-octane fashion, puts on a knowing smirk.

Except the smirk is, well... the animators just stretched the lips across the face further. I can’t do it justice, you just have to watch it, but I’ve done better animating just by pan-and-scanning around Windows Movie Maker.

This... isn’t content anybody needs. But I’m a librarian. I’m sworn to access. So the question becomes, does anyone want it?

I had to know, I had to know, how much circulation has this gotten? When was the last time this disk was in the hands of anybody at all besides me?

I popped it into Evergreen and behold: 15 check-outs since 2006 when it was released. No checkouts in the last 2 years.

I asked Lisa the proper procedure for removing something from the catalog, and in only a moment the deed was done. The case was repurposed, the disk trashed, the DVD cover recycled. It was time to go. I’d spent my remaining hours quasi-consuming children’s media.

I placed most of what I’d watched in a new pile, which I labeled “SCRATCHED BUT WORK FINE.” I placed one lone Barbie horse movie in a different pile labeled “SCRATCHED AND DOES NOT WORK.”

I felt like I’d accomplished something. I turned off the lights and I went home.

[lovegodherself]

there’s these two guys i know (GUYS) and they hated to all the boys and were saying it’s so bad and it’s the worst movie they’ve ever seen and my fragile heart can’t take it and can’t properly verbalize why they’re so so wrong can you help me

Aw cutie omg YES okay I actually have a lot of thoughts on this!! I’ll put it in a read more since I wrote an essay (complete with footnotes) lmao…

Okay so to preface this: I’ve been thinking about the male reception to/interpretation of this movie since one of my (straight) guy friends casually said the other day that he thought To All the Boys was “good” but Set It Up was better, which is totally fine - and I loved Set It Up too - but it legit hurt my feelings because To All the Boys is so tender and personal and resonated with me on such a deep emotional level that his dismissal of it felt almost insulting to me (and he *liked* it so I can’t even imagine having to listen to someone trash it like that - you’re braver than any US marine)… Now up until this point I’d only talked about To All the Boys with girls and gay guys, who all seemed to wholeheartedly adore it (or were at least happy to swoon over Peter Kavinsky with me), so even though I was taken aback that he thought it was just ~okay, I didn’t even try to argue or challenge him on it - which is not like me at all - because my internal gut reaction was like “wait, of course you didn’t love it, it’s not FOR you!”

Let me explain:

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before is told entirely from the female perspective. Not only was it written and directed by women, and based on a novel by a woman, but its sole protagonist is a teenage girl - the entire story is told from her POV and her actions and emotions guide us through the narrative. In contrast, Set It Up, which also happens to be written and directed by women (it’s amazing how good rom-coms are when they’re created by people who actually love and understand the genre - what a concept, right?) has dual protagonists in the Glen Powell and Zoey Deutch characters, who carry pretty much equal weight in the story. That creates an easy entry point for male viewers who might otherwise have trouble identifying with women and/or relating to stories about them - they’re spoon-fed a “dude” perspective to identify with and can mindlessly consume the rest of the movie. If that element is missing, they’re genuinely lost.

That’s where I think a lot of guys* just don’t ~get~ To All the Boys, which is unapologetic in its femininity and doesn’t make any kind of concentrated effort to entice or win over the straight-dude audience. We’re all so conditioned to view male stories/characters as neutral/universal and female stories/characters as specific/niche that for women, something like this feels revelatory and refreshing, while for a lot of guys, it can be confusing - even threatening - because they can’t comprehend a story that isn’t bending over backwards to cater to them. On top of that, from the very first scene it’s rooted in female fantasy and focuses so heavily on female relationships** that they probably feel that it just isn’t for them, or is making demands of them that they resent. Does that make sense? Basically I just think they’re put off by the inherently feminine sensibility of the movie and their inability to process that manifests itself as “I hate it, it’s bad.” *Steps down from feminist soapbox*

Now, if you just want to hit them with specific examples of things that are inarguably good about To All the Boys, that’s just about the one thing my master’s degree in film criticism is good for so here goes!!

Things To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before Gets Really Right:

The visuals. The cinematography and color composition are completely stunning and manage to feel at once classic and really fresh.

The set design, especially the interiors. I love that the girls’ bedrooms reflect their different personalities - Margot’s is bright and pristine, mostly composed of whites and neutrals (safe) with subtle pops of color and lightly decorated with a few sophisticated details/accessories, while Lara Jean’s is more colorful and whimsical, like a daydream, and a bit of a cluttered mess but still so pretty and soft and warm, just like her. That attention to detail is impeccable; my favorite little touch was LJ’s prominently-featured bookshelf full of Nancy Drew mysteries, which is never explicitly acknowledged but there for the girls who Know™.

The authenticity. On a representation level, this movie reflects our world in a really necessary (and unfortunately rare) way, with a diverse cast of actors/characters who feel effortlessly real. I appreciate the filmmakers’ commitment to honoring the Song Covey sisters’ half-Korean background, especially since I know that was a bit of a battle for them. Also, on a micro level, I think the way all the characters interact in this movie feels pretty natural in a way teen movies don’t always get right. None of the performances feel hollow, forced, or over-the-top.

Characterization. Every single one of these characters feels like someone I know - or could know - in real life. There are no stereotypes, and every archetype (the Cool Dad, the Mean Girl, the Nosy Little Sister) all have a unique spin that makes them feel super original and interesting. Also Peter Kavinsky as a love interest is so key because he’s a truly good, kind guy and their relationship is totally respectful and healthy, especially by teen movie standards!

The depiction(s) of grief/loss. I lost my dad last year and it’s really affected the way I consume any kind of media, but Dead Parent Content in particular is obviously always touchy. It’s rare to watch things that deal with that subject in a way that feels genuine and honest without being emotionally manipulative, and when you do it’s not always easy. Very few things tackle the subject thoughtfully and gracefully enough that it resonates but is still watchable*** and I thought this movie did an absolutely perfect job. The scene with her and her dad in the Corner Cafe makes me weep - I could write an additional 5-6 paragraphs on why but I’ll just say that her hesitance to even talk about her mom is such a fundamental aspect of her characterization/story that the catharsis when it gets broken open is deep and effective. Also them talking about her (and the way they talk about her) brings her mom into the story as a character (not just a theme or a concept) and I thought that was really well done and important!

I have to physically restrain myself from writing more but in summary I’ll just say that those guys not understanding this movie would suggest that they just don’t understand girls, which is their problem, though you might want to suggest that they take notes on Peter Kavinsky (and Lara Jean’s dad for that matter) if they want to be good men and boyfriends and eventually husbands and fathers, lest they die alone and unloved! If you do feel the need to engage, I would recommend challenging them - ask them to back up their opinions with actual reasoning, or ask what kind of movies they like (and if they answer with typical, predictable nonsense, ask why they thought they’d like a movie like To All the Boys to begin with) because guys like that are usually just looking to bait a reaction and tend to crumble/shy away when you flip the script on them. ALSO if this is really “the worst movie they’ve ever seen” - and I promise you it’s not - but they’ve clearly not seen Netflix’s The Kissing Booth**** which is hands down the best hate-watch of 2018 (I’m lowkey obsessed with how reckless and insane that movie is) and they’re missing out.

Bless you if you read all that… I hope it helps!

* I say “a lot of guys” because obviously there are plenty of guys out there who do love and respect women and are interested in watching movies that tell our stories - that’s just not who we’re talking about here.

** Even though her relationship with Peter is the through-line of the story, it’s her relationships to the other female characters that inform the conflicts, resolutions, and character dynamics: her inability/unwillingness to open up to anyone comes from her fear of losing people like she lost her mom, the film’s inciting incident happens because her younger sister loves her and wants more for her, the whole arrangement with Peter is born out of her inability to lie to her older sister, the primary conflicts that arise between her and Peter are the result of her strained relationship with her ex-best friend Gen - I could go on, but you get it.

*** I have an ongoing list of Quality Grief/Loss Media Content for anyone who needs it or is interested.

**** No offense if you like The Kissing Booth. To be clear, I enjoy it very much but it is, by no stretch of the imagination, anything even resembling a “good” movie.

[lit--bitch]

Current-Reads (20/04/2020 - 26/04/2020) 🍓🐢

(Disclosure: I don’t know anybody I’ve been currently reading this week. 😊)

Adding the preface again here: every Sunday without fail I throw up the freshest literature and photography I’ve read over the week, sometimes it’s a book, sometimes it’s a piece I saw in a magazine or an online zine, sometimes it’s something I saw on social media, etc. Sometimes I add ‘RECOMMEND’ next to a few of the titles, but that’s not to say I don’t recommend all of them, I just love some pieces more than others. Not everything will be everybody’s cup of tea, yanno, c’est la vie. And any titles that you see in bold are hyperlinked so if you click or tap them they’ll direct you straight to the source… or shopping basket. 

This week I’m gonna throw in a red herring and tell you about something I’ve been watching as well as what I’ve been reading, because I think it’s really cool and definitely appropriate for the age we’re living in at the moment. 

So I’ve been reading: Susan Sontag’s As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh (Diaries 1964—1980) which was edited by her son, David. I also read an interview on Granta from March between Rachel Long and Morgan Parker. I’ve also tucked into a couple pieces on Fence, Lexi Welch’s ‘Astroturf’ and Anthony Michael Morena’s ‘The Whale’. I also saw Cecelia Knapp’s poem in Bath Magg Issue Three (but the whole issue is an absolute smacker, it’s great). Last but not least, I’m up to episode 5 of a brand new thing called The Midnight Gospel. It is crazy good. And it’s on Netflix right now. 

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Cecilia Knapp, ‘I Used To Eat KFC Zingers Without Hating Myself’, Bath Magg Issue #3: I really loved the whole of Issue Three, I guess I was quite struck by this particular poem for its “staccato-ness”. This poem is buttered with present-day references. But they’re not necessarily about creating a familiar environment. Rather the object of familiarity is found within the assemblage of places, snacks and thoughts, all of which compound the grief ‘I’ is experiencing. The ‘I’ ruminates on life’s banality and their personal insecurities in living banality: ‘I need a thigh gap. I use emojis / to avoid conflict. Worry I’m a gentrifier. Watch docs about murdered women’. The vapidity is funny. The pain is not. The insecurities deepen. Your body, your life, continues the ache of day-to-day routine, and finds no resolution in the things which may or may not stand to comfort oneself when ravaged by loss. The poem feels quite loose, and disinterested. It’s a sore poem, but its array of references make it colourful. It sort of reminded me of Édouard Levé’s work a little bit? But if Édouard Levé had been a pop culture fanatic chewing HubbaBubba bubblegum on the London Overground.  Bath Magg is a pretty exciting new magazine, (been around just under a year I think?) and they’ve published a lot of great writers, many of whom are emerging and I’ve spotted some quite established peple in there too. Kudos to their rubber ducky logo. It’s run by Mariah Whelan and Joe Carrick-Varty. 

In Conversation with Morgan Parker and Rachel Long, Granta Magazine: I deeply love Morgan Parker’s work, she’s, in my opinion, the master of titles. I can’t think of anybody who titles their work as well as Morgan Parker does. And I love the depth of honesty and charisma in this interview. Like yeah, it appears to be a generic Q/A but, it genuinely feels like a conversation, and it’s welcoming and unpretentious. Rachel Long asks some penetrating questions, and Morgan’s answers are so detailed and self-aware. Most of the discussion revolves around the action of writing poetry in general and where does that impulse arise from, but they do discuss Morgan’s latest collection Magical Negro which came out February last year. It’s a narrative on black womanhood, on micro-aggressions and reoccuring violence, it’s about breaking down white perceptions of blackness, and dissolving those projections. What I love about Morgan Parker is she’s tackling this fucking idiot thing where (mostly) white people think she’s attempting to represent all black women in her writing, which is, by Morgan’s own admission, impossible. Her work is a duty to herself, to the background she’s lived and lives, and to unpack that discourse in her own way. And if it resonates, then great! I felt all this was inherent in the interview and only adds to my respect for her, and to Rachel for being such an attentive interviewer. BTW Rachel Long has a debut collection coming out this July, My Darling from the Lions.

Anthony Michael Morena, ‘The Whale’, Fence Portal (Streaming) (RECOMMEND): I can’t tell you how much I adored this beautiful mass of whale and word. It’s an essay which references the American Natural History Museum’s Blue Whale model. The writing is thick with feeling and fat with concern. It blends monologue, memoir. It’s non-fiction and documentary. It’s elusive, enigmatic, fragmented. It’s like broken biscuits and blubber. To me it felt like a note on the offences of climate change, the emotional response and grief as we bystand erosion and corrosion, the loss of life, and the urge to merge something back together as it dissolves and fragments before our eyes. It’s as personal as it is public. A gorgeous and complex piece.

Susan Sontag’s As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh (Diaries 1964—1980) (RECOMMEND): I felt so afflicted reading Susan Sontag’s diaries, because y’know, it’s the equivalent of invading an Ancient Egyptian pharaoh’s tomb. Like, leave people alone. At the same like, this woman. These diaries are still shaping me, and each section leaves you with the weirdest aftertaste. Her personality permeates through every detail, every line-break, every reference and articulation of feeling. You learn so much, you gain so much from her perceptions and observations. How do I contain Susan Sontag? How do I describe these diaries? Not at all. Just buy it. 

Lexi Welch’s ‘Astroturf’, Fence Portal (Streaming) (RECOMMEND): My eyes locked onto this piece and just didn’t really stop reading. Lexi’s voice is enamouring and hypnotic. It’s so violent too. You’re lunged into friction burns and sports injuries, time and progression, the tensions between collectivity and individuality, family and sexuality, or as Fence put it, ‘lesbian eros’. This piece felt acidic. At times you can’t tell if the ‘I’ is indifferent or hurting to the point of numbness. It straddles so many different thematics, and breaks down a lot of conventions pertaining to the “ideal experience” of family relationships and team work. The resolution seems to be that in spite of people, our collectivity is defined by our collective solitude. This essay kicked me around a football field. It takes a good few repeated reads to appreciate its kaleidoscopic shifting, but it’s definitely one of my favourites.

The Midnight Gospel, from Pendleton Ward and Duncan Trussell, Netflix: (RECOMMEND) So the other day my friend Ben linked this to me and I had seen the trailer ages back and thought “Oh yeah I really wanna watch that”, but just forgot. After his reminder, I started watching it and ever since I’ve been saying to loads of other friends “Have you watched ‘The Midnight Gospel’ on Netflix?” because I’m d y i n g  to talk about it with everybody. 

I literally can’t categorise this “TV show” to you. It’s like if animation had a baby with a philosophy podcast and then put that baby onto an IV drip of psychedelics. It’s this swarm of different stimuli which you kind have to zone in on and absorb individually and yet somehow collectively. 

So like, “Clancy” is a spacecaster who sets up “spacecasts” (podcasts) with creatures from other simulated worlds and he interviews them. But when Clancy transports himself into these worlds, it’s not like they’re sat down on some cream sofa with two glasses of water like it’s animated Oprah. No, his interviewees are like in the middle of fighting off a zombie apocalypse or meditating on a mountain or trying to find and save their lost lover. And Clancy just joins them on the journey and interviews them about their “specialism”. These are real people that are being interviewed like, the first episode is with Dr. Drew Pinker. And when you’re watching it, you think that the animation is totally separate to the conversation exchange the characters are having, but that’s not true. They have intersections, they have meaning. It only becomes obvious that it has meaning right at the end of each episode, but if you lock on you’ll see it’s all relevant throughout. 

One of my friends was like “Oh I might stick that on tonight and have a joint” and I was like, don’t fucking get high when you’re watching this because it’s already intense enough as it is, like you know that Pendleton Ward and Duncan Trussell have felt some real shit to create this absolute rare jewel. In my opinion, you don’t need cannabis to appreciate these discussions. But if you wanna do it, then hey it’s a “free country”. And it’s not as though there’s a serious, central core plot like there is with Rick & Morty, I mean there is a kind of overarching plot but it’s not always integral. Like ultimately we’re invested in Clancy’s story but also all the stories of all the other people that come his way. There’s multiple plots, there’s multiple dimensions and ways of seeing. It’s a programme which delivers on multiplicity, which manifests itself in everything and everyone we see and know and touch and hear, etc, etc. 

This production articulates some of the revelations that psychedelics can give you. Psychedelics don’t make you see the world literally like these animations do, but the sensations of the animation are reminiscent of an acid trip’s oscillating moods and sensitivities. It’s really cool, and it’s very poignant, and it’s my new favourite show to watch. And what’s so great about it is that, it requires multiple watches in order to really absorb everything in its entirety, so it’s a series you can just keep going back to even after you’ve seen them all. It’s re-watchable. Just fundamental goodness all round. Best way to indulge in it is with ice cream. 🍨

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So that’s it for this week, next Friday’s review is Annie Ernaux’s A Girl’s Story translated by Alison L. Strayer, published with Fitzcarraldo Editions. 

Stay safe and well as always, my little caramels. 💁🏽

[blockheadbrands]

We Need to Destigmatize Parents Who Use Cannabis

Elizabeth Enochs of Leafly Reports:

As a cannabis advocate, I’m reasonably concerned by the social stigma around parents who use the plant. This is partially because some of my loved ones happen to be parents who use cannabis, but it’s also because I don’t think it makes sense to demonize responsible adults for enjoying marijuana. And contrary to popular opinion, successful cannabis consumersaren’t difficult to find.

People who don't consume cannabis have a fundamental misunderstanding about what it does to somebody who consumes it.

Derek Riedle

In fact, according to a study from the cannabis culture website Civilized, adults who consume cannabis aren’t just more likely to be employed than non-consumers, they’re more likely to hold supervisory roles at work. They’re alsomore likely to be homeowners with children, according to the Pew Research Center. Yet cannabis arrests in the United States outnumber those of violent crimes.

I may never decide to have children of my own, but it’s important to shine a light onparenting and cannabis whether I do or not. I spoke with the following people on the topic.

Derek Riedle, founder and publisher of Civilized. As an outspoken cannabis consumer and father of two young boys, Riedle knows what it means to be a good parent who enjoys a bowl or two.

Vanessa,* a stay-at-home mom who uses cannabis for both herself and her young daughter. Her daughter has been living with an undiagnosed neurological disease since infancy.

Enrico Moses, another cannabis-consuming father and the CEO of High Standards, a Los Angeles-based marketing agency bringing sophisticated, informative events to California’s cannabis capital.

Two women who are working to make the cannabis industry as parent-friendly as possible: Kristi Knoblich, COO of Kiva Confections, and Brittnie Green, head of events and outreach at dosist (formerly hmbldt).

Ashley Spivak, a doula, reproductive health advocate, and co-creator of the wellness event Cycles + Sex.

Common Misconceptions on Cannabis and Parenting

(darrya/iStock)

“The most amazing thing to me is that people who don’t consume cannabis have a fundamental misunderstanding about what it does to somebody who consumes it,” Riedle tells me. “Cannabis consumers feel that they enjoy life a little bit more, they’re more active, they’re more social, they’re more creative … non-users just don’t understand that. They don’t think these things happen.”

Riedle’s right. Misconceptions around cannabis and the people who use it are deeply embedded in our society, and that won’t change overnight. As Spivak puts it, “The image of the person who uses these plants, the side effects like laziness and brainlessness … This is still what we associate with cannabis.” In Moses’ opinion, “There has been so much negative propaganda around this plant that it will take years for people to completely unlearn these projections.”

Misconceptions are doubly problematic for parents who use cannabis as medicine for not only themselves, but also for their kids.

Luckily, the internet already abounds with essays and articles in which writers challenge negative stereotypes about cannabis and cannabis users. (Hell, I’ve a written a few of them.) Further, recent polls show that cannabis consumers in the US tend to work out as much or more than non-users, and we typically have more active social lives and obtain higher levels of education as well. Still, misconceptions persist, and nowhere is this more pronounced than when it comes to parents who use cannabis.

This is doubly true for parents like Vanessa, who use the plant as medicine for not only themselves, but for their kids as well. “She can’t walk, she can’t speak, she can’t do anything on her own,” Vanessa says of her now-four-year-old daughter. “For her condition there is no option. There is no treatment, there is no clinical trial she can get into—nothing. So [cannabis] really was, and is, our only hope of lulling some of her conditions from her disease.”

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Even though she lives in California—where cannabis was legalized for medical use in 1996—Vanessa says her daughter’s neurologist was against pediatric cannabis use from the start. After doing their own research, Vanessa and her husband decided to try it anyway. “We took the leap,” she recalls. “We found a dispensary that we felt was very professional and much more catered to medical needs versus recreational.”

Cannabis works so well for their daughter that she hasn’t missed a dose since that first try. “Her body is constantly moving and nothing can soothe her, and when she takes cannabis, it’s like her body just relaxes,” Vanessa says. “I can’t tell you how amazing it is to be able to hold my daughter and her body feel calm instead of just wiggling out of control. It’s the best feeling.” 

Like Becoming a Parent, Cannabis Consumption Is a Personal Choice

(darrya/iStock)

Vanessa says she keeps her own cannabis use as discreet as possible, and prefers micro-dosing with edibles like Kiva’s Terra Bites over smoking joints or hitting bongs. But Vanessa also doesn’t feel like it’s healthy to hide her cannabis use from her son, so she and her husband have always been honest with him. “He’s only seven, so we haven’t gotten to the real marijuana talk yet,” Vanessa says. “Right now what’s working well for our family is, ‘This is sissy’s medicine, this is mom’s medicine.’”

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Unfortunately though, thanks largely to decades of misinformation about what cannabis does to the brain, cannabis-consuming parents are often stereotyped as neglectful, lazy, messy, selfish, irresponsible, and emotionally unstable. Many who don’t consume cannabis themselves incorrectly assume that parents who do will actively influence their kids (and other parents’ kids) to do the same. But the cannabis-using parents I spoke with say this couldn’t be further from the truth. “I consider cannabis to be for mature adults, not for the young mind, so my kids know I have a zero-tolerance policy for them until they’re of age,” Riedle says.

Cannabis helps me self-reflect, which ultimately makes me a better person and a better parent.

Enrico Moses

Countless other parents who openly use cannabis, like long-time activist Diane Forbacher, have echoed these sentiments. So while it might be fair to assume that some parents who consume cannabis have an open dialogue with their children about it, the idea that cannabis-consuming parents hope their kids will light up with them someday is completely unfounded. As Riedle points out, educating your children is not the same thing as enabling them. “I’m not trying to grow young men who will become adult cannabis users,” Riedle tells me. “But if they choose to do that, I want them to feel free to do so in a responsible way, so I’m empowering them with knowledge.” Riedle says whether it’s sex or alcohol or cannabis, he doesn’t think there’s any value in kids being in the dark.

Some cannabis-consuming parents aren’t open about their consumption with their kids, and that’s OK too. Back in 2012, the New York Times published an essay called “Pot for Parents,” in which art dealer and father of three Mark Wolfe detailed how back pain and anxiety led him to become a “card-carrying medical cannabis patient” at the age of 44. The medicinal qualities of cannabis aren’t the main focus of his piece, though: Instead, Wolfe wrote primarily about how cannabis helps him be a more loving and attentive father. As he put it, “I find the time I spend with my children to be qualitatively different and simply more fun when I take my medicine (always in private, never in front of them, never too much).”

Since Wolfe’s op-ed was published, more and more parents have stepped out of the cannabis closet to share similar stories of their own. In 2014, the Guardian got over 200 people to share their thoughts on cannabis and parenting, and the general consensus was overwhelmingly positive. In 2015, Cosmopolitan contributor Lea Grover wrote about how cannabis has helped her manage anxiety since her twins were infants. “Genuine, honest-to-God, parenthood-induced anxiety is a real thing,” she wrote. “In my case, marijuana is my anti-anxiety drug of choice.”

Riedle says even though he’s not one to consume around his kids, he still feels like cannabis helps him be a better father. “I find the joy in things a little bit easier, I’m a little less stressed, I’m a lot more creative … Overall, cannabis makes me a better parent because it makes me a better human being,” he says. Moses agrees: “I think that [cannabis] helps me self-reflect, which ultimately makes me a better person and a better parent.”

Wine Moms vs. Weed Moms

(Weekend Images Inc/iStock)

Vanessa says going to the dispensary feels no different to her than going to the market for a bottle of wine, but this sort of normalcy around moms using cannabis just isn’t represented in mainstream culture. As any consumer of American media knows, “wine moms” are all over both small and big screens. Whether it’s Modern Family’s hardworking, painfully organized Claire Dunphy, or goofy, affectionate Linda from Bob’s Burgers, positive representations of mothers who drink wine responsibly (and daily) are easy to find. But TV moms who consume cannabis in the same way are virtually nonexistent. American television’s most famous cannabis mom is arguablyWeeds’ Nancy Botwin, and it’s safe to say she’s a fairly problematic character.

In reality, though, moms and dads all over North America responsibly use cannabis instead of alcohol for a number of reasons—from managing stress to making laundry more fun. Back in 2012, a Jezebel writer anonymously wrote about why she’s always preferred weed to wine, and why that preference didn’t change when she became a mother: “It doesn’t have the calories or the hangover,” she wrote. “And I’ve never had a glass of wine and been captivated by children’s books like I have after smoking a bowl.”

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 Wine moms are all over both small and big screens ... TV moms who consume cannabis in the same way are virtually nonexistent.

Stories like these are part of the reason Knoblich and her husband, Scott Palmer, started Kiva Confections with parents in mind. “What we aimed to do was give people control,” Knoblich says. “If you’re a parent, if you’re a career person, if you have any sort of responsibilities, then you don’t have the luxury of being experimental with cannabis.” Knoblich says Kiva’s Petra Mints have become particularly popular with moms because of their low-dose format: “I think it’s just so perfectly cut out for mothers and parents because it gives you that minimum effect, but while you still gain all of the positives.”

Green had similar things to say when I asked for her thoughts on moms using cannabis as a wellness aid. “Whether it be [dosist] or any product, I think that women should have the alternative rather than a pill that their doctor prescribed them,” she says, explaining that while she personally understands the necessity of prescription drugs, swapping out Xanax and antidepressants for dosist’s calm pen changed her life.

Green is so passionate about using cannabis as medicine that she recently helped her company host a cannabis event for Fashion Mommas—a members-only network for influential mothers who work in fashion and creative industries. “I’ve followed up with a couple of the Fashion Mommas,” Green tells me, “and they were like, ‘This has been a life-changer. I use [cannabis] instead of going right for a bottle of wine and I feel like I’m more present with my kids and my family.’” As Spivak points out, “The better parents feel, generally the better they can take care of others.”

‘Becoming a Parent Led Me to Cannabis’

(StockRocket/iStock)

In Riedle’s case, having a family is actually what led him to reunite with cannabis in the first place: Although he enjoyed smoking in college, he was more likely to drink than to vape before his two boys came along. “It’s funny, I don’t think of it this way very often, but becoming a parent sort of led me to cannabis,” Riedle explains. “I’m not saying, like, that old euphemism ‘my kids drove me to drink’—my kids drove me from drinking to cannabis.”

Riedle says when it became too difficult for him to drink regularly and still maintain a healthy lifestyle, he took the advice of a fellow father and started smoking more cannabis. Now Riedle only drinks a few times a year, and he says it’s actually the contrast with alcohol and cannabis prohibition that drives a lot of his thinking. “I think it’s completely illogical that it is OK for households to have alcohol for adult use and not have cannabis for adult use,” he says. “And that applies whether you’re a parent or not.”

*Last name withheld for privacy.

TO READ MORE OF THIS ARTICLE ON LEAFLY, CLICK HERE.

https://www.leafly.com/news/lifestyle/destigmatizing-parents-who-smoke-marijuana

[hollyeyoung-blog]

I am not kind

It is the time of year you’ll be getting an influx of self-reflective personal essays and articles about the approaching end of the year and the beginning of a new one. I guess you can count this among the fold, but at the risk of being annoying I’m going to push my luck and ask that you consider me as being the black sheep of the group. So, if you please, bear with me while I air some of my self-depreciating thoughts and watch me attempt (with all the grace of a drunk Gough Whitlam at a Young Liberals meeting) try to articulate my genuine, yet masked in sarcasm, thankfulness and hope for the future. 

This week, I had every plan to write about being kind to yourself, but I ran into some trouble. Yes, even at Christmas I found this difficult, feel free to chalk it up to my atrocious year. The trouble I’ve run into hasn’t been a lack of thoughts or convictions on the subject, but rather an entire lack of confidence and practice in the execution of any such so-called self-kindness. 

In short, I am not kind to myself and you shouldn’t listen to me on the subject. 

It does feel as if every other day there is some advice piece or personal essay on self-care or being kind to yourself and they’re all very nice. I read them, I nod… I think yeah, that makes sense, I’m sure I do that, but in truth I don’t. In fact, I do the opposite. I won’t bore you with the specifics…yet, but I’ve had a bad year. truly. Friends talk to me about all my important learnings and how I’m going come out the other end a stronger and wiser person. I’m glad they believe this and I hope they’re right. 

So, the marriage didn’t work out, you get not one but two triple figure bills at the same time, things aren’t working out at work, you lose your appetite, your plans for the future fall through… these are all shit. there is no denying this and I am not even going to bother wasting your time or mine by trying to dress them up as lessons in disguise, because they’re not. they are all entirely unrelated things that happened. We can chose to learn from them, or we can continue making the same mistakes. this is something only time will be able to tell. *side note: time is on your side and friendship is a privilege. 

Also, Trump really did get sworn in as President of the United States of America back in March, we didn’t dream that, it wasn’t some new version of the Mandela effect (sadly). 

At the time of writing this (isn’t it terrible I had to stipulate that?) there have been EIGHT school shootings in the U.S.A.

Severe flooding lead to deaths running into the thousands in India, Bangladesh, Nepal, Sierra Leon, Sri Lanka, Zimbabwe, Peru and China. Landslides in Colombia, the Democratic Republic of the Congo as well as snow avalanches in Afghanistan lead to hundreds of deaths, and major earthquakes in Mexico also lead to further deaths running into the hundreds.

 Here are some more natural disaster for the month of December alone. It’s a collection of natural disasters as well the knock-on effects felt by those living in the social and economic constructs imposed upon them within the criminality of late capitalism (she types arrogantly on her MacBook air). One headline reads “Debts add to disaster for climate-hit nations”. lovely…. 

oh yeah… and one million people in Puerto Rico are STILL without power, you know… only three months after Hurricane Maria. 

Also, women all over the world had to repeatedly endure the infuriating lecture that “not all men” hurt women and that getting angry won’t help us. Well, complicity hasn’t protected us much at any stage in history either. But thanks for your input Matt Damon, now kindly shut the fuck up.

(image nicked from a Facebook feed. If it’s yours please speak up)

Naturally this is not an exhaustive list of the 2017 shit. There are four days left of 2017 and that isn’t enough time to cover it all. 

But as for you, I’m sure you had your own shit going on too. 

Yeah…. that bad thing/things that happened to you this year? yes. it really did happen. 

Here comes a good thing…. a great thing that happened to me this year, was I learned to ask for help. I know this sounds dumb, but it was a revelation. I was musing earlier today with a friend about how isolating it can be when things go bad. You find yourself in shame spirals, even over things that were not your fault. However, as soon as you start talking, as soon as you begin to open up and become just a little bit vulnerable this magical thing happens… people start wanting to be there for you, friends from long ago call out of the blue and come back into your life. You start seeing the beauty in small kindnesses. Even strangers jump out of bushes screaming “MEEEEE TOO!!!! LETS HAVE COFFEEE OKKKKKKKK????”… no? was that just me? ok, that was me. 

Back to the point. 

We internalise our problems and blame ourselves. Hey, it’s what we do. This constant pushing of blogs and personal essays flying the positivity flag over look one thing, it’s healthy to feel sad and uncomfortable, maybe not all the time… but we aren’t robots…yet. Or are we??? what did I miss??? THE BOTS.

It’s totally human to feel like a failure. It’s well rounded to wonder what the hell the point in all this is and if there is even a place for you in this world. how could you ever possibly know what makes you happy, what makes you feel alive if you never considered why you’re even here? I realise this sounds bleak, and I promise this is not a cry for help (but it would be ok if it was, and it’s definitely ok if you need help. Do you need help?).

All I’m trying to say here is that if you don’t ever question what you tolerate, how could you ever possibly know why you tolerate it or if you should? 

Why do we tolerate debt, jobs we hate and people we could do without? No, really, I’m asking. why? In the stark light on the truest drunkest honesty, I’ve yet to have a conversation with anyone who has been able to attempt this question without crying. 

My wonderful housemate gave me a book for Christmas (books are my love language). This particular book is called You Do You, I’ve only just started it so no reviews yet, but so far, it’s been a laugh out loud type of read and already it’s done one thing for me. That one thing? it has drummed into me that I am a-ok. I really am. 

It has been a heck of a year, on both micro and macro levels. When considering what everything looked like this time last year, I certainly do not recognise this world, or even myself. Maybe, for better or for worse, you feel the same way. 

I think it will be ok. You know how I know? Because the world kept spinning, and so far, we’ve survived 100% of everything that has happened on this little blue ball. Truly, we’re fucking killing it. 

also, I’ve been listening to this  a bit today. Have a safe new years kiddies!