#it smelled so I deoderized it while it was apart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashokafan1025 · 2 years

Text

every monday and thursday. i get up at 6 am. i spend 30 minutes getting ready (picking a funny dress shirt to wear, shitting, filling a backpack with stuff including a change of clothes and deoderant and a small towel because i'm the sweatiest cunt in california.) then i hug nate and cecil (who are still in bed) and i feed the cat and i pet him and i leave. i always mean to make food for myself to bring but i run out of time or forget.

then i spend 30~ minutes walking from home to the train station. it's called BART here (bay area public transit) which is funny. the way to the station is pretty nice, the whole time i'm walking by the lake. basically just walking half the circumfrence of the lake. it's chilly and overcast in the mornings which i always enjoy. everything is gray and blurry, it's perfect. usually i'm listening to mbmbam, or sometimes some other podcast, or if i'm inspired to write something then i listen to music. there are a few people i always see and say hi to on the way, including this like tiny 90 year old lady who seems to just be walking for fun. there are also geese that try to intimidate me.

when i get to the train station i'm already kind of sweaty and my inner thighs are chafed from walking. so it's nice to sit down a while. i pray i get the comfy train with the cushioned chairs. usually in the mornings i do. if i'm writing i keep writing on the train, but if i'm listening to a podcast then i'll play a little shitty mobile game on the train. my favorite is bricks and balls

after 15-20 minutes i get off the train and i'm in san francisco. it's the mission which is a pretty destitute part of town. it's full of litter and it smells like piss. the restaurants and apartments are all clustered tightly together but most people around are unhoused. always police sirens and gunshots and shit. there are nice things about it though. i like to hear people preaching on the street. there's always a few people set up handing out food and clothes. also while i'm here i will get asked for a light at least 3 times. last week i bought a cute turqoise biq lighter so i could start saying yes lol

since i didn't pack food i need to acquire some. there's a mcdonalds on the way — pros: good food; cons: i have to spend money. there's also a safeway on the way — pros: i can steal really easily, also there are a bunch of cute pigeons that hang around in the parking lot; cons: it'll just be snacks, also stealing is dangerous. i go for either one at a pretty much equal rate, it just depends how i'm feeling.

then i get to school. my campus is in a cleaner, wealthier part of town than the mission, but i kind of like it even less. it's like, a warehouse district that's been gentrified. it's all bougie pastry shops operating out of brutalist chunks of concrete. i find it really unpleasant, especially compared to the school's other campus in oakland, a genuinely lovely place where i took all my classes in freshman year but which the school has now sold to some real estate developers. i think i'll be bitter about that until i die.

i arrive at my first class usually a few minutes late. it's my film class which i really like because the teacher is cool (he's a nice, kind of awkward middle aged german guy, a really experienced experimental filmmaker who knows everyone in the business) and the class is so project-oriented. rarely do we have to sit through lectures; usually he just unleashes us upon a project and lets us spend the whole class working on it. we can even leave if we think we'd work better somewhere else. on the days where he does want to give us a lecture, i sit in the back and play disco elysium or stellaris on my laptop.

when that class is over i have 5 hours till my next class, so i have to find a way to pass the time on campus. usually i'll go grab more food and then i'll try and find an empty classroom to hang out in. sometimes a teacher will come in and start a class but i'm pretty good at knowing where to go so that won't happen lol. once i'm all set up in a dark empty classroom i will spend the next 4 hours either attending to homework, hunting for internships i can do this summer, or playing disco elysium or stellaris. i will also sometimes draw on the whiteboard, which the teachers usually erase but sometimes i notice they like a drawing and leave it up, which is delightful. my friends sara and salem are usually on campus during this time, sometimes i'll run into one or both of them and hang out with them a little bit

at 4:00 it's time for my GAME DESIGN CLASS. this is a fine class but i've come to kind of hate it because it takes place so late in the day and i've been at school all day, and i've usually spent like 6 hours working. the teacher is doing his best and he's a nice guy but he's just a bit uptight, has a hard time running with things. i really think that teaching art means finding the passions and thoughts and impulses of your students and leaning into them, finding ways to build "learning moments" out of them. this guy has perscribed stuff he wants to talk about in a perscribed way, and any attempt by the students to explore alternate aspects of what he's talking about or even really question him is just shut down

after that class is over i go find my friend sara, who depending on the day has either just finished their shift working the school library or has an hour left to go. either way i'll hang out with them for about an hour. they're awesome, we really enjoy each other

then i head the fuck home!!!!! i walk back to the mission station, usually i grab mcdonalds to bring home for me and nate (and sometimes cecil but they don't want it so often as nate does.) on the way home i'm usually texting nate, cecil, and seren to entertain myself. by the time i get off the train and i'm back in oakland i'm usually too tired and in pain to walk back home from the station so i get an uber. i have the like uber membership thing for a year so i get discounted rides. i kind of regret buying it but i'm sure as hell not gonna waste it lol. i have the uber drop me off at the convenience store and i get soda for my boys. then i walk home it's just like a 3-5 minute walk from there. then i spend an hour eating and watching tv with nate and cecil. this is obviously the best part of the day.

so that's what i do every monday and thursday. i try to enjoy as much of it as i can. it's just two days a week but it feels like these days are the "meat" of my life. i think i have a hard time reconciling with the fact that the days where i spend all day at school and the days where i'm home most or all of the day are part of the same life. feels like i'm a different guy wherever i go. anyway. have a nice thursday lol

#dialogue

2 notes · View notes

autumnmariegrim · 4 years

Text

The Dangers Of DIY Skincare:

1. Witch hazel: An anti-inflammatory commonly used as the main ingredient in DIY astringents. What most people don't know is that witch hazel is usually distilled by alcohol and or immersed in it to preserve it and can literally tear apart the skin's hydration barrier. Which leads dry and flaky skin.The natural fragrance in witch hazel is eugenol, a potent irritant. So if you have sensitive skin watch out.

2. Lemons: No more lemons! This citrus fruit is the star of DIY beauty projects, most dermatologists dread. Lemons have a pH of about 2 and when used on skin, ruins it’s natural pH balance of 4 - 5. Dermatologist don’t recommend using pure lemon juice on your face or used as an ingredient in diy projects, because it has to be mixed with the correct acids, chemicals, and other ingredients for the skin to truly benefit from it. Lemons are way too acidic and literally eat away at the skins protective barriers. Lemons also make skin more prone to the suns harmful rays, leading to blistering or terrible discoloration that can last for months.

3. Mayonnaise: It is in no way beneficial for your skin. Mayo consists mainly of oil and fat, causing cyst-like acne and clogging pores. These oils and fats found in mayonnaise encourage bacteria to grow; Supported by Dr. Rebecca Tung, dermatologist at Loyola University. However it does benefit the hair by hydrating, diminishing dead ends, and killing lice. So to sum this up: DONT USE. DONT EVEN DIY SKIN CARE IF YOU DONT KNOW WHAT YOUR DOING. It’s always best to do extensive research and consult a doctor before DIYing.

4. Eggs for tightening skin: The proteins in egg whites do improve skin tone and elasticity. Many Spas peovide facial treatments using egg whites.They increase glow and minimize fine lines — however when doing your own be cautious! Egg whites not only can contain salmonella(bacteria that causes deadly food poisoning).If by chance you happen to ingest raw egg while administrating it on your face, it will (80% of the time)contaminate your body, causing vomiting, diarrhea, and other painful symptoms. So, unless your willing to risk it, it’s best to avoid accidental ingestion by not doing DIY raw egg masks at all. It can contaminate you if it enters your eyes and nose as well.

5. Apple cider vinager used as a natural deodorant: OTC deodorants often are avoided because of their potential risk in causing breast cancer due to the ingredient aluminum chloride . Most if not all scientists have yet to discover data that links the two. Despite that, people continue creating DIY deodorants out of apple cider vinegar in an attempt to deccease their chances of getting breast cancer. Even I use all natural deoderant. Apple cider vinegar’s main utilization is using it as a base, due to the fact that it kills yeast and bacteria linked to B.O. Its know to absorb/neutralize displeasing scents. It shouldn’t be completely shunned from using on skin, the main problem is that it’s not an easy smell to mask, it’s ability to neutralize other cents does not last long, and it kills good bacteria. Adding essential oils, in an attempt to mask the smell does little to nothing in solving that dilemma. Additionally, it's in no way stops sweat. Summary: it isn’t bad for the skin it just doesn’t smell good or prevent even the smallest amount of sweat from forming and doesn’t last long at all regarding its ability to absorb other smells, rendering it useless. It’s best used as a primer befor applying natural, aluminum free deodorant. Some natural deodorants include: • Dr Teal's Aluminum Free Deodorant with Eucalyptus, is Paraben & Phthalate Free. Priced at a mear 13.95$ found on amazon. ( containing an actually decent amount unlike the deodorants sold at Sephora that come with the smallest ,short term use, deodorants. The are healthy but not worth the price). • Native Deodorant - Natural Deodorant - Vegan, Gluten Free, Cruelty Free - Free of Aluminum, Parabens & Sulfates, made in the USA and contains coconut and vanilla. Giving it a wonderfully sweet smell. Priced at 11.95$ found on amazon. • Old Spice Aluminum Free Deodorant for Men, Aqua Reef Scent. Priced at 14.97$ for a 3 oz ,3 pack on amazon. What a deal! • Kopari Coconut Deodorant. Priced at 14$ on Sephora. Their Gardenia scented deodorant is amazing . I own it. For me it really works and contains charcoal, cleansing your pores of toxins. I find myself having to reapply it half way through the day, on those extra sweaty days or after working out. The wonderful benefits of its ingredients are so worth it! • lululemons anti-stink deoderant. Spray on to avoid bacteria growth in the deoderant. Priced at 18$ on Sephora.

6. Cinnamon as a face scrub: It wreaks havoc on your skin . Causing irritation, blisters, and in some cases, burn scars. When ingested in large amounts daily, cinnamon can and does cause low blood sugar, increases risk of cancer, mouth sores, liver damage, breathing problems, and interacts with certain medications negatively. So try to stay away from ingesting large amounts of cinnamon and or using it in your amature DIY skincare routine. If you don’t know the science behind and chemical interactions of what your doing , don’t do it! Cinnamon in small amounts is plentiful in benefits when mixed with the correct ingredients at the right amounts. So many, infact, that I won’t list them.

7. Hydrogen peroxide on the skin: Everyones go-to product for cleaning small wounds. While it does a great job of cleansing/ closing wounds, it is known to be toxic on skin when used in amounts higher than 3%.If you apply it repetitively on a wound , the wound and the surrounding skin area won't heal . Your actually causing damage to the skin. So do not use your house hold hydrogen peroxide for skincare DIY’s unless you are a specialist that knows what you are doing.

When used occasionally,treats minor cases of:

•burns

•cuts

•infections

•scrapes

•seborrheic keratosis

Medical professionals cease to utilize this acid as a disinfecting agent because hydrogen peroxide damages essential cells needed for healing the affected area. A 2012 study showed negative side effect of using hydrogen peroxide on the skin. Tested on mice (sadly).

It’s said that its wound healing effects may be useful in treating acne and other skin issues, such as hyperpigmentation. However it’s dangers out way any potential benefits it may have on the skin. It can cause:

•dermatitis (eczema)

•burns

•blisters

•hives

•redness

•itchiness and irritation

It not only harms the skin, hydrogen peroxide causes:

•toxicity or fatality when inhaled at large amounts or swallowed in both small and large amounts.

•a potentially higher risk of cancer and

damage to your eyes

•internal organ damage

More serious risks occur when it is used long term and regularly.

If you must, when lightening skin use a concentration between 20 and 30 percent for results. (Or just use a Tamato. Tomato’s slowly but surely lighten skin and are safe to use!)However it is higher than the recommended use of only 3 percent on skin. Running the risk of burns and scars rather than obtaining any actual skin brightening effects. If you are in dire need of affordable skin brightening products try : •niacinamide 10% by the ordinary. Niacinamide is known for its potent ability to protect your skin from air pollutants, oxidants, and free radicals . Which is why I am purchasing it when I get my next pay check!

There are many more DIY DONTs than DOs. For your short term and long term skin health it’s best to invest in the right products that tackle what you need/want. If you must DIY then use light, healthy, and certified skin safe ingredients. Also be sure to read the ingredients of every product you buy. There are many things you should avoid. Check my previous posts to figure out what you should and should not find in care products. Check out my post Finding the right Deoderant for a list of more natural ingredients that can be used for more than just deodorants.

35 notes · View notes

hearteyes-for-killmonger · 6 years

Text

Bully

Second installation of The Hearteyes Zone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Antoine Elizabeth, 13. Student of the urban Ralph Bunch Middle School.

Ralph Bunch Middle School. Collective tormenter of one Antoine Elizabeth.

Young Antoine has in-school suspension for the third time this month. His crime? Self-defense. Intervention is the responsibility of the school and the home, but what happens when both systems fail? Can a hero be found? Or will hope forever be lost in... The Hearteyes Zone.

-----

Antoine was far from unintelligent, although it was difficult for him to focus on what the teacher said. His mind kept going to his little brother, Amir. The schools provided lunch free lunch, but what would they eat for dinner? How could he get home without getting jumped? These were the pressing issues. Identifying the countries in Asia, conjunctions, and jumping jacks in P.E. just didn't seem that important in comparison. This was exactly why kids sold drugs. His stomach growled and he put his head down on his desk.

"Uh uh, Mr. Elizabeth," Ms. Park snapped. The other kids snickered, not even upset to be punished. Content to witness Antoine in a miserable state. After having his head slammed into a locker, Antoine swung at the closest person to him. He'd connected with the shoulder of Anthony Harris, 13 and was quickly knocked down by Roger Williams, 13. Stomped on by Jeremy White, 12. They'd all been whisked to in-school suspension and the incident was dismissed as rough-housing.. yet again.

"You know better than that. This ain't your bedroom, you in here for a reason! You don't know how to keep your hands to yourself! Sit up, NOW!"

Antoine sat up silently, his stomach gurgling audibly.

"Hungry hungry hippo," Roger mumbled bringing laughs from the other boys. Ms. Park hid her laughter, but again, Antoine was no fool. He was deeply hurt.

---

Riding the school bus wasn't much better. These three boys were relentless day in and day out.

"He smell like open booty cheeks," Roger cracked, gaining boldness from the cacophony of howls, claps, and snorts.

"His momma a crackhead.. She suck dick for a dolla, my dad saw her.. He can't afford soap.. He smell like garbage juice.. His breath smell hot eggs.. He look like Rick Ross nephew.. He look like a bowl of cooked hotdogs.. Why his shirt so dingy?.. His momma ain't got no quarters?.. Why he breathe so hard?.. What are thoooose.." Roger went on and on everyday. Antoine had long given up on looking to the bus driver. The driver would never intervene.

The three boys along with two girls got off the bus at Antoine's stop as usual. The two girls went their own way while the boys followed Antoine. He immediately prepared for the fight he knew was coming. Blood and pain had become an expected norm. Everyday he faced this. He ran as fast as his heavy legs could take him, but Jeremy caught up, yanking his collar back with all his strength. Antoine fell backward, his head colliding hard with the pavement as he tried unsuccessfully to grab hold of Jeremy. The boys ran, leaving him to lay there.. bleeding and fading out.

Darkness.

"You good lil nigga?" A voice came and Antoine opened his eyes slowly letting his vision adjust. He was indoors. Using the strength he could muster, he pulled himself upright with a harsh wince. He was in an unknown living room on a wide couch. He blew a small bronze feather off of his shirt wondering where it came from and followed the voice spotting a man to his left, lounging in a large matching chair. The man was muscular and scary looking. He looked as though he could be a navy seal or mercenary. Maybe a drug dealer. Someone tough. Antoine grabbed the spot on his head that ached and pulled his hand away to spot the remnants of drying blood and another feather.

"Looks like you got fucked up. You almost died. What's your mama number I'll call and have her come get you." The man pulled out an iPhone like some of Antoine's classmates in school had. Antoine didn't even have a phone.

"She won't come. She's... out. I gotta get home and feed my brother."

The man's eyebrows knit together before relaxing in understanding.

"I'll drive you. Come on."

Antoine's apartment was one building over and they walked up four short flights of stairs to get to it. Amir was already home from the elementary school, working on his homework. Antoine was insistent on Amir doing it. He'd check it himself. Checking the cabinets, Antoine pulled a cereal box. It didn't even have enough for half a bowl. No ramen or rice either. The fridge was empty. No milk, peanut butter, or jelly. No more sandwich meat. Amir had eaten that yesterday. The man took a glance around the small and cluttered room, eyes falling back to Antoine.

"Your mama coming back anytime soon?"

"Yeah, she'll be back soon," Antoine lied, and not well at that. Antoine wasn't great at lying to begin with. It wasn't something he practiced.

"Uh huh. Come on, y'all coming with me."

Amir looked to Antoine for guidance on what to do before following him into the strange man's expensive looking car, a black NSX. The man took them to McDonald's and bought the both of them full sized meals with large drinks. It was like a birthday. They hardly ever got to eat McDonald's.

"What's your name, mister," Amir asked with stars of admiration for his new hero in his eyes. Antoine's expression wasn't far off.

"Name's Erik. I stay a building over in 3C... But now that we're sitting down and you got some food in you," he gestured to Antoine. "I need to ask.. Who fucked you up like that? Some kids?"

"Bullies," Amir nodded before Antoine could lie about it.

---

The two boys spent the night at Erik's and he ensured that they ate breakfast before school.

"Those the niggas who jumped you?" Erik had insisted on driving Antoine to school himself. They watched the morning school bus as the kids boarded. Erik's eyes were trained on the three boys. Antoine nodded in confirmation.

"Use your words, nigga! Don't ever be scared to speak up. What you got to say is important even if people don't acknowledge it. Speak!"

"Yeah, those are the guys... But the teachers and everyone else always take their side or ignore it and if I do something I get in trouble for just defending myself.. It's not fair! I ain't ask to be here. I'm tired and I hate everyone! I wish I could just die or kill them all..." Tears flowed until he realized that the car was rolling in the opposite direction of the school and the bus. "W-Where we going?"

"To change your life, lil man."

---

A trip to the store brought Antoine five new uniform shirts and five new pairs of pants along with some new socks. The next stop was the barbershop. Antoine looked like a brand new child with his curly tapered fade.

The barber even gifted him a sponge and showed him how to use it to bring out his curl pattern. Swayed by Antoine's story, the barber also volunteered to cut Antoine and his little brother up for free from that point on. The third stop was Foot Locker and Antoine left with two pairs of Nikes and one pair of Jordans.

"What if I get jumped for the Jordan's," he'd asked scared to even pick them up.

"You won't, trust me. But I'm a teach you how to really defend yourself so the next time a nigga test you, you can knock they damn teeth in... Don't be scared to hurt these niggas who try you, they weren't scared to hurt you."

The final stop was the nearby supermarket where they bought pasta, rice, meat, sauce, boxed mac and cheese, detergent, personal grooming products, and other things. After speaking with the manager about Antoine's situation, the manager agreed to let Antoine come by to pick up a groceries weekly for free. He just had to get there.

"I'm gonna teach you a few easy meals you can make for your brother," Erik said when they'd reached the boy's apartment. They'd already cleaned the mess that was the living room and kitchen.

How to make spaghetti. How to make a salad. Grilled cheese. Tacos. Erik wrote it all down for Antoine in easy to follow format and then they moved to hygiene. Washing clothes. How to shower properly. The importance of lotion and deoderant. Brushing your tongue. Moisturizing your hair. Asking the school nurse for items at school.

Antoine soaked up the lessons eagerly, ready to learn things useful to his life. No one had ever bothered to show him these things, choosing instead to make fun of him. Things many kids take for granted, he was finally learning. By the time Amir came home, Antoine was learning the correct way to throw a punch and how to use the opponent's strength against them. Antoine wasn't fast, but he had power. He'd have to rely on that as his strength.

By the end of the night when Erik left to go home, Antoine's attitude had visibly done a 180. He was smiling confidently. Finding another bronze feather on his shirt, he blew it away.

---

An interesting thing happened at school the next day when he caught the morning bus. The three boys weren't on it. They missed the morning class. They didn't show until halfway through the second class and they didn't say one word to or about Antoine. In the halls, they didn't push him or kick him. They avoided him completely. Rumors said there was a break in to all three houses and all the parents were assaulted, choked out completely in front of the kids. They weren't pressing charges or looking for the culprit however, which was strange. The in-school teacher, Ms. Park, had come to school with a mysterious bruise around her neck that looked like a handprint. Her eyes widened fearfully when she caught Antoine's eye and she quickly looked away.

Antoine quickly began to gain attention from his schoolmates, particularly the girls. They were intrigued by his new look, complimenting his hair and his Jordan's. Where he'd usually sit alone due to the fact that no one wanted to sit near him. All in one day, there were now people in his personal space.. touching him. One girl picked a bronze feather from his back and blew it away.

---

"Erik," Antoine called knocking on apartment 3C like Erik had told them. He had made it home without incident and planned to share every amazing detail of his great day with his cherished hero. However, the black NSX was gone, a blue car in its place. Antoine knocked and the door opened, but an older black guy answered wearing confusion on his face. His grey brows furrowed.

"Yeah? Hello. What," he snapped, annoyed to have to answer the door.

"Ex-excuse me sir, I'm looking for Erik. He lives here?"

A brief look inside showed that the furniture and decor was totally different than before. It even smelled different.

"I've lived here longer than you been alive you got the wrong gotdamn door."

But that was impossible. He remembered this door and this building. This was definitely the right door. It didn't add up. Just then he noticed something small, a bronze feather on the ground. It blew into the sky with no breeze.. into the clouds. There was a murmur that seemed to be coming from the sky.

Ndilibale

Glancing around the space around him one last time, he descended the stairs.

"How did I get over here," he pondered aloud making his way to his apartment. He cooked spaghetti and made a salad before taking a brief shower and moisturizing his hair. His mom was cooped up in her room, her second favorite place other than being gone. When Amir came home, they both did their homework together and Antoine began teaching Amir some of everything he knew. Amir was shook.

"Is Erik coming back," Amir gleamed.

"Who?"

"You know.. Erik? Cool big guy?"

"What did I tell you about imaginary friends, Amir? You're too old for that. "

"He wasn't imaginary! He was real.. wasn't he?" Amir wasn't quite so sure anymore. There was a huge question mark on his face.

"Well I haven't seen him.."

----------------

Ndilibale = Forget me

@inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @panthergoddessbast @mermaidchansons @someareblindtoitsbeauty @destinio1 @killmongersmisstress @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @siriuslycollins @shesfromwakanda @sicksadgen @heyauntieeee @muse-of-mbaku @lovemekaycee @radi0active-thoughts @drsunshine97 @blackpantherismyish @honeycoatedgld @tgigoldie @imaginewhoever @ash-moneyy @texasbama @thadelightfulone @niggarachi15 @wakanda-inspired @thehomierobbstark @bartierbakarimobisson @violet-ines @hidden-treasures21 @myboyfriendgiriboy @bubbly-nammu @killmvnger @phoenixxx1225 @ineffabl-y @supersizemeplz @sweetsexysavagery @sadblvckkgirl @magic-madness-heavensin @cccccx1 @purplehairgawdess @indigoxsummers @kxnfuzed @wawakanda-btch @ange-sensuel @princessstevens @vanitykocaine @allhailnjadaka @amethyst1993 @eriknutinthispoosy @marvelpotterlove

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger imagines #erik killmonger x reader #erik stevens #erik stevens au #erik x reader #original #killmonger #erik killmonger smut #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens x you #erik killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut

209 notes · View notes

moonlit-lynx · 6 years

Text

03/22/18

I can't sleep. So I stay awake til I can't anymore, filling my head with anything I can to fill the hole that your absensse has caused in my existence.

I miss the way I could listen to the way your heart beats through your compelling conversations. So I put a wordy documentary on to try and fill the silence. I miss the way your skin smells like summer and comfortability. So ill wear your deoderant to bed so while I doze I wont know you aren't there. I miss the hands thay hold my heart, so I wrap myself tight with so many blankets cause this twin sized bed is just too big sometimes.

Its not just the nights when you arent here that I miss you, but I have a little red string that will keep building me back to you. If we cant be together, either a few days or long term, I know what my heart will always have your name written on it. You told me that no matter what is troubling us and pushing us apart, the love we feel is real. I dont know how to make anything better and I don't know where we will be going from here but I know where we've been. I know what a home with you feels like. I know what struggle, perseverance, pain, and anger feel like but I also know what acceptance, compromise, patience, and understanding feels like. School kids crush, man and woman dedication, partners loyalty, friend's companionship.

I've learned a lot, Ive lived a lot, and I've loved you for years compacted into 10 months. Ill do my best to be the best I can be. I decided to try to be the person you need. I night not do a great job all the time but today I'm not giving up on you, my wish, my dream, my weapon and shield.

2 notes · View notes

dasklaus · 7 years

Text

I identify with autism a lot lately. My failure to be a person, the feeling that normality is something I perform, my genderlessness in absence of strong body dysphoria, all point in that direction. It's been on the table since my teens, and the last time (the only time) I took a diagnostic questionnaire I had severe arrhythmia, fear of dying of it and felt a strong need to be institutionalized and to never be alone. That I have trouble existing without a designated carer, that I hate crowds and feel happiest when people are listening to me saying clever things - I know I am weird on several axes, and I know work is a lot harder for me than others, especially full time (not the specific tasks associated with work - just the environment, the rules of it).

What I don't have: stimming, pronounced sensory issues, a need for routine. And I have social needs. The trope that autists are happy left to their own devices needs to die in a fire, though. It's not true. All autistic people I've met or even just read about had social needs. Everyone needs downtime, and social interaction is generally more stressful for autists, but they crave connection, too. Not feeling connected, regardless of quality and amount of interaction, though, that might be my defining symptom from childhood.

I always knew others had magic ways of knowing what to do or say. It's just this magic might just be neurotypicalness.

...

On further thought, when saying I have no sensory issues, I may just be unused to the term, to frame things like that. Because I sure am really particular about some things. Behold:

- I don't like chairs. When I sit, I either want to be folded into myself on the ground or rest my back on something (preferrably far back, so I become an obtuse angle). In any case, my feet need to be on the same level as my butt. It's okay with tables - I can slouch over them, concentrate on what's in fron of me, but without a table, I'm uncomfortable. Waiting rooms are horrible. It's better when I am alone and don't have to care about sitting "right".

- I'm bad with hygiene and can't seem to get used to it. I hate showering (especially the face), washing hands, brushing teeth. I cannot stand cremes or lotions. I've gotten better with doing stuff anyway, but I'd be perfectly happy just not cleaning myself for weeks.

- Chemical smells, perfumes, especially when it's supposed to be a "nice" smell. Deoderant, air "fresheners", aftershave, whatever. I'm way better with normal people smell, or even stinky people smell.

- Insects. Itchy, tickling things, rapid movements in front of me, sudden sounds close to my ears - GAH! They move so fast, I have almost no control over whether they touch me or not. I go crazy in the woods. I like the general idea of woods, but cannot stand the reality.

- I'm a picky eater, and was even more so as a kid. Some things I genuinely don't like the taste of, but often it's about texture, too: cooked vegetables, too soft pasta or rice. Produce in general: it's irregular, random, varied and therefore feels risky to eat. I like food to be consistent in texture and taste.

- Voices. I cannot listen to people for long. I’ll get headaches when listening, especially digitally, especially normalized voices (when the overall volume is digitally forced to constant, even though the speaker is varying his intonation). When voices are loud enough to understand, I can’t not listen, when they’re not, it’s stressful, and in between even more so, because I strain to hear, even when I don’t want to. I will sometimes listen to talks, but it’s rare, and I sometimes have to stop for a while.

All these can reach a point of "aaaaAAH I CAN'T STAND IT" that seems unusual in its intensity. I threw tantrums as a child, not to get things, but to get away from things, had daily breakdowns (often for no specific reason) as a teen, and to this day flee situations when they become unbearable. It's not always clear what has or will set me off. It just get's too much, in some way or another. Nowadays, I know how to excuse myself politely, without causing unnecessary drama.

There are sensations I enjoy, too:

- being wrapped tightly by several blankets, wearing too-small clothes (as long as nobody sees me in them), or wearing a bandage. More general: even pressure on large areas of skin without restricting my breathing or circulation.

- dusty, dry environments. Soil after a drought is really pleasant to me. I like my hands after physical labor, when they're dry, dirty and rough. No mud, water, oil, though.

- Picking on my skin or hair. I scratch and pick on my face a lot. As a kid, I played with my hair constantly, when it was long enough. When a scissor is nearby, I cut my hair. Constantly, incrementally - always picking at it until I find a strand that feels too long, then cut it. I never look at what I'm doing, I do it by feel alone. I haven't been to a hairdresser in a decade.

In the end, all this might be normal. A lot of it, on its own, is. I spent last night reading Black Sails fanfiction (because as gay as that show is, it's still not gay enough, you know?) and finding one describing Hamilton's stay at Savannah. It threw me way back into my most isolated years, which felt like prison was described there. Disjointed, senseless. Not knowing what is memory and what is fantasy. Feeling very, very apart from the world. People being foreign things that I could not relate to. I can easily see myself falling back into that mindset again. I have to work on not doing that. Being a member of society is something I consciously chose, time and time again. And being a person is something I learned to do well enough to pass, but it's not my native language at all. Perhaps that's not autism. Perhaps everyone feels that way, or enough do to make it normal. I just wanted to write it down, to find words for it.

Thanks for reading.

#personal

2 notes · View notes

joyfullyimportantyouth-blog · 7 years

Text

Reportage: Why Cleansing is Totes Necessary // A Comedy // Bougie AF

So, this weekend I felt like being a mixture of regimented and “mindful” and I felt like a caricature of privilege. Despite the fact that I live with ten people and am unemployed, I am not impoverished. I have grown up with the privilege of Costco and homegrown radishes and Portuguese soap dishes. I’ve always felt a little bad (but not really) about my inclination towards the more nicely packaged/ more expensive items everywhere, although I usually write out budget lists that are realistically sketched out to include a $13 budget in entertainment. And intend on reading THICH NHAT HAHN and then quickly loop back to Wikipedia-ing and trolling celebrity gossip.

So while I was googling “how to really cleanse/simplify your life” yesterday, I had to have a moment of reprieve from my privileged ways. Why are we so obsessed with this word (”we” as in me and millions of lifestyle blogs) and why are there usually only the options of zen and moneybags reloaded into formulas for us to refer to? Just for humor’s sake, I created a list of stereotypes of my search results. There’s no answer on how to cleanse other than to purge what’s not needed, which is subjective-ish.

Cleansing is perhaps just saying “no” a lot of the time... Just doing the minimum of what is necessary and picking two things that are important to you for each day. Because drinking miso soup and eating celery and drum circle-ing some subpar world music to reactivate your sexual organs are not the only ways to get rid of anything keeping ya down.

-- CLEANSING: A MANUAL OF WHO NEEDS A CLEANSE--

“Cleansing” : The Rich Bitch Earth Mother

She carries her African woven basket full of farmers market carrots everywhere, because she loves Farm to Table! It helps her imagine the simpler times of vacationing in the South of France when she smells the freshly cut lavender on the West Elm birchwood counter engraved with affirmations to keep “elevated” as she breaks bread/macca.

She beams with gratitude as she meets each person EVERY SINGLE DAY IN HER BUSY LIFE with a gaze as “sensually earthy” as amber candelabras. Of course, she made those last weekend at her glassblowing class - after her 5 AM ashtanga practice - because her next thing will be pottery and selling spirulina goji berry energy fragrance to Gwyneth at Goop.

Her Woodstock turned financier husband doesn’t pay attention to her even when she suggests tantric weekend getaways in Oregon wine country for a “cleanse” from the modern world. He always sighs at her after smoking some high-grade vape Sativa and buys her another turquoise ring from the Iroquois she “volunteers” her time for because she’s always been certain that she is Native American… or at least 1/16 Sacagawea.

She has made it her life path to realize her full potential as a Capricorn Sun / Aries Rising in the sweat lodges she invites herself to. She finagled her way into these sacred ceremonies by what she believes to be a “calling” but more accurately occurred after procuring a bankrolled friendship with a local Native American artist. She knew they were kindred spirits after buying his sacred geometry blankets at her best friend’s boutique “Gather.” A new one called “Savor” is going to sell her wrap dresses that she buys from her Guetemalan Shaman, who always forgets that she doesn’t drink regular milk only ALMOND MILK and no gluten when they trip together on $500 ayahuasca that keeps true to her frugal roots of growing up in Marin County. She just loves the “spirit” of Central American people because it makes her feel like she is in the Peace Corps when they smile back at her and offer her the opportunity to pose in photos next to a “saddening” market stand.

All of the Instagram photos of posing in collectivos with poor people will be framed at the cafe where she namaste-scolds the barista everyday for her stupidity in not knowing her clear distaste for regular hummus (acidic!). It’s always only going to be beet hummus until edamame hummus gets on the menu for godssakes. Here she always meets with her caftan-clad yoga friends who all used to be dancers and now have rich husbands who built them modern Adobe lairs to be bored in but pretend like blackberry sage tea gets them high from well being.

She feels forlorn that there is something discontenting about the “minimalism” she has so ambitiously set out to create/dump shitloads of money into, so in the only way she knows how, she will book an Iyasca retreat in Peru. Maybe poor Peruvian people can teach her the meaning of life so she can write a memoir about how life changing it all was. Holding hands with the street children… and never returning again because it makes her too sad, but the lessons of the third world will be tattooed literally and figuratively in a Quechua phrase for life on her wrist so she can talk about it to the young hot river guide men in Telluride…

“Cleansing” : The Twenty-Something Project

She has had way too much casual sex for her pressing emotional need to find someone who loves tequila and rock climbing and contemporary fiction just as much as she does. She drinks way too much tequila five days a week as well as wine during the day because she feels like she can’t access who she really is (that’s what a partner would help her discover in his egocentric artistic ways of being). She spends eight hours on the computer writing shit that doesn’t matter to her (like emails) and trolling pointless social media sites that make her wonder if models really are people. This is usually the apex of her day, when she recounts how she is in charge of her own happiness but jesus how many genetically modified Victoria’s Secret models are there out there? These girls are now chronicled to be “anti-social-media-bullying” and are just “regular girls,” which she intellectually realizes. But she thinks and researches for a long time how they can be just so: how can they get someone to take their photo at just the right moment when they are writhing around in the water so that you can see that they are so in tune with and gently being kissed by their sexy actor boyfriend (bio in link for his new film with Harrison Ford!)? This is happening while being blessed by the Tahitian palm tree shading themselves, because they’re responsible so they use La Roche Posay SPF and feel #grateful that they are very hot people and have so many loyal followers.

She decides that becoming a massage therapist will likely zen her out all the time and make her like wheatgrass and never drink again and only date “spiritual” men with man buns. Maybe being a masseuse will train her to refuse being around “negative vibes” and only will be in the same room as people who make her feel “full.” And being a masseuse will likely get her laid because she’ll be a healer. So like the google-generation, she finds a massage training in Tulum. But it’s $5,000 over-budget. Instead, she thinks she will just clean her room and eat a mango from the bodega around the corner because it’s only $1. And only have 3 apps instead of 13.

“Cleansing” : The I-Came-of-Age-In-The-Rob-Lowe-Coked-Out-Power-Dressing-Glamor-of-The-1980’s-Workaholic

EVERYTHING IS FALLING APART. She works so much that she has no life. She hates her pantsuits but started working in the age of Anita Hill and thought she had to break the glass ceiling more because her mom would quote Betty Friedan and preach to not be “ungrateful” to the women like Jane Fonda who paved the way (and the song “9-5,” too). She used to dream about working in transportation and logistics just so she could scan her government card everyday.

Now she hates the Boys Club. She even hates most of the women, who are such mechanical bores and all majored in “Political Science” like smart girls do at Dartmouth. They’re the sociopathic philanthropists who only “endorse” International causes that pay people to publicize the plight of poor people because it looks good in photos and they don’t actually want to help poor people. Unless you’re George and Amal Clooney, you can just show yourself the door.

So guess what? She QUITS HER JOB and decides that something must change... and also that she absolutely loathes Elizabeth Gilbert. This means that she doesn’t want to be BORED hanging out doing yoga in some fucking yurt pagoda thing and she doesn’t want to get FAT in Italy with some boy toy whose worshipping would be as aging feeling as a lifestyle blog… and she doesn’t want to SHUT THE FUCK UP in India in some ashram with annoying as fuck Californians who think using crystalized deoderant is as repenting as when they culturally appropriated Ganesh on their saggy backs.

So what does she want to “cleanse?” Anything committing or societally-fulfilling for women her age (like the constant suggestion of growing a damn garden to be happy…). The solution is to do whatever she damn well pleases from the comforts of her current home and maybe tell people what to do from her computer every once in a while “freelancing” and occasionally go on a few dates and walking out when they’re just blah blah blah.

Perhaps trying to be “budget-y” but realizing she earned her accolades thirty years ago, so only voting with her dollar when she feels like reusing the same dishtowel or using up everything in the fridge. She learned long ago that you��re not better than others just because you “know how to be poor and sustainable” by eating pumpkins from the garbage … and living with a commune of people you kind of hate for judging you about not knowing the merits of free speech feminism and cleaning with vinegar absolutely everywhere (...everywhere).

She will damn well do as she pleases in purchasing a sugaring appointment or buying a $50 solo dinner. Or online shopping at FreePeople if she feels like she’s lagging a bit on her “cleanse” and wants to look a little like she had a love affair in Barcelona and went cray at the flea markets that apparently only sell pillow case dresses that are so bright and flouncy you have to dance in the streets when you wear them and look like you’re having an enlightening experience even when you drink “fresh mint water.”

“Cleansing”: The Legit Monk Woman

She GOT RID OF EVERYTHING to be noble to a million sutras she can’t quite name but she tries to, usually when she’s drinking a single cup of tea for four hours. She went to Ladakh in 1987 and comes back to Los Angeles in 2017 named Nag Champa and gets a job teaching at some liberal theology college in Orange County where Steven Spielbergh’s kids occasionally come to class. At least they link the school website in their online interviews with Vogue all the time. They are using the Tibetan sound bowls to create a new experimental electronic album that can maybe buy their way into Coachella and they may have her be their life coach while on tour to “combat the stressful perils of the industry.”

She writes a few blog posts for Depak who is always trynna hit on her. She goes to Wanderlust and blesses the dreadlocked crowd with a hybrid Buddhist-Rastafarian-Katy Perry lyric blessing, throwing Whole Foods rosewater on their toned bodies that they got growing up skiing in Aspen. All of them say they want to be mentored by her in between their barista/yoga teaching/juice cleansing lifestyles, maybe when they’re done setting up their kombucha bar they can swing by and have like a $6,000 certifying sesh that has all inclusive vegan food? Or they can barter with nuts and berries that they brought back from their trip to INDIA.

Yes, she must capitalize on this moment of “wellness.” You can find her speaking and retreat information on LinkedIn that she’s still waiting to customize in a more boisonberry color for calming effects…

“Cleansing”: The-Doesn’t-Want-To-Give-A-Shit-But-Still-Kind-of-Does Woman

She needs to get her finances in order a bit and is somehow always “busy” so she gets rid of what’s not needed by saying: Yes, she needs her organic food. No, she doesn’t need her Argan oil face wash. Yes, she needs a drink at somewhere other than a dive bar every other Friday. No, she doesn’t need to go to Brazilian dance yoga with Shanti for $40 every day. Yes, she needs to go see a concert every once in a while. No, she doesn’t need five paid-for “music experience” apps that “customize” user experience depending on their ever-fluctuating mood and will bring you to “up and coming artists.” Because honestly, these musicians sound like they took a Xanax and hipsters just go to their shows because they’re insecure that they’re being called “hipsters” and hate “categorization of gender norms” but totally need reassurance that they’re doing life right by the Anthropologie curtain-esque crop tops and leg tattoos they appear bored in everywhere. So every grainy film Insta shot is in fact very intentional but they won’t admit it because they will always be pale-faced underdogs just like these up and coming artists who have long hair and little annoying vegan kids with no manners who have ginger hair and are gonna grow up to be soft-core racists because they intentionally want to have black friends (only with septum piercings and a denim jacket) so they can show how liberal they are because their parents were once underpaid touring musicians and they know what struggle is because they tried acid when they were 14 and they saw how we are all “the same.”

Yes, she needs stupid email to make a living. No, she doesn’t need Snapchat because so much meh and overwhelming tapping all the time.

…DONE. Now she’s livin’.

2 notes · View notes