#school drop off

[rat-at-heart]

Couldn't remember if he said "bye, son" or "bison" after dropping his kid off at school

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus & Magnus,

I dropped Gus off at school right behind Jacob dropping the big kids off. On the way out of the parking lot, I noticed Martin chilling in the third row, rear-facing, window down. It made me laugh. Usually I walk Gus to school right now because 1) It's one of the few times when it's just the two of us; and 2) I want to get the steps; but I needed to get to work early today.

Dad.

Little Rock, Arkansas. 4.29.2024 - 7.38am.

[inkskinned]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[witchee1014]

Moms' coping mechanisms for anxiety

Are you a mom struggling with anxiety? Learn practical coping strategies and tips to help you manage anxiety while juggling motherhood. From grounding techniques to time management and communication, we'll explore different ways to reduce stress and take

Welcome, fellow anxious moms! Do you sometimes feel you’re walking on a tightrope between mom duties and overwhelming anxiety? Do you wish you could have a moment of peace and quiet, but your brain just won’t let you? If so, you’re not alone. Many moms struggle with anxiety, and it’s challenging to manage when you’re also juggling kids, work, household tasks, and other responsibilities. But fear…

[quantumshade]

can anyone explain to me at what point rose tyler was "unbelievably stupid". was it when she was inventing transdimensional travel

[dailymanners]

If you give someone a ride home, or walk someone home, don't leave or drive away until you see them get inside and close the door behind them. Make sure you see to it that they get fully get inside safely before you leave.

This also applies to temporary residences, such as a hotel, airbnb, dormitories, ect.

Seeing to it that they fully make it inside safely isn't just about fear of something as drastic as an assault or a mugging. It would also be awfully annoying and stressful for them if they lost their key, and before realizing they're locked out their ride or walking companion has already sped off, so now they're stuck outside alone with nowhere else to go, and possibly a dead phone (when it rains it pours). Or maybe there's dangerous fauna in the area. Or maybe the neighbor's poorly trained dog with aggression issues is loose. Or maybe they slip and hurt themselves while walking to the door.

Even if you're absolutely positive they'll make it to the door safely, it's still a kind and thoughtful gesture to let them know that you care enough about their safety to see to it that they make it inside safely.

[wolfythewitch]

pov you meet a zombie and his severely traumatized son 

[blu-ish]

Chao dads 💞

[worldwright]

childhood books that are so fucked up on the reread part 1 of infinty: septimus heap. our guy was a child soldier from birth. the entire city-state dealt with an oppressive police state for a decade, waiting for the monarchy to resurface. this fucking necromancer will not ever go away. not after the first time he dies and certainly not after the fifth. you'd think he'd be bored by now. some old queen moved a tower to the other side of the palace for no reason. the main character got time-kidnapped for six months and had to live in the same place that all his loved ones had not been born in yet. his best friend was raised by wolverines. his other best friend is named Beetle. the castle is called The Castle. there's a defunct nuclear reactor underneath it. some of the rats can talk and have human levels of intelligence and people still put out rat traps and try to kill them. there's a fuckin time purgatory that some guy thought everyone would love even as an increasing number of random lost travelers got trapped there forever. if you think you know all the secret tunnels under this place no you don't. and you can rent pink paddleboats in the summer

[mozzaremi]

[stinkybrowndogs]

Thinking about our childhood dog, sadie, who was just a shorter and stouter dexter. Genuienly the perfect dog. She only bit 1 (one) child and they definently deserved it. When the parent of said bitten child demanded that sadie be euthanized, my mother did the only based thing shes ever done and told her that her child was a menace and deserved it and no we were not killing our dog. Sadie lived for 14 years, got cancer, and lived 2 more years without any medical intervention. When my mother found out she had cancer, she refused to purchase more dog food (she will eat table scraps and she will love it! Shell be dead in a few weeks anyways) and sadie lived off of leftovers for the remainder of her life.

She was the beginning of the brown dog legacy. Dexter is actually just Sadie 2. I dont have any pics of her but im trying to get some. Dog of all time. She deserved to bite all the children.

[egghead7enthusiast]

I’m back from beyond the grave

telltale batman revived me im pretty sure

anyway enjoy these doodles :)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

DISTRACTIONS sometimes its the drive to help and save our friends that pushes us to learn and to succeed. unfortunately its normally ''unethical'' to replicate that in a classroom setting. I ONLY JUST FINISHED THE LAST PAGE HERE, THE FIRST TWO WERE LITERALLY FROM LAST YEAR, N A FEW MONTHS APART. LOOOOK AT MY EVOLUTION. im very proud of this and bled REALLY HARD FOR THE LAST PAGE. PLEASE ABSORB THIS.

[gowns]

something to think about with "the right age to become a parent"... there's a fine line between "they should be at the club" like "why am i spending my precious youth changing diapers and getting screamed at" and the next stage of your life which is the "wait my back hurts" "i sprained something" "i'm so stiff today" "i'm getting a migraine" age. and it's not a clean demarcation, in fact you can be both "supposed to be at the club" and also "jesus christ my hips, it hurts to walk." you can be figuratively and spiritually at the club, physically a bag of bones and raw nerves and skin losing its supple elasticity, while emotionally and literally taking care of a child or multiple children. and so i say to you: there is no perfect age to become a parent. however do consider that at one point you will be in an active state of decay and you gotta ask yourself if you want to have a screaming toddler who you have to pick up over and over again... while your brittle joints snap crackle and pop.

[fuckrealityfictionisbetter]

Not to be a bitch but if Watcher wanted more money maybe they should of produced more then 1 project a month

[cubesugarss]

miaw