#structured shows require more attention bc every second is planned

[orcelito]

Confronting the fact that I'm partway through episode 93 of critical role campaign 2 and theres only ("only") 140 ish episodes

I very realistically could end up watching the entirety of the second campaign of critical role. Holy shit lmfao

[cherry-o-piggy]

And old slew

posted 3/7/2021

I think my number one requirement is that you keep up, which only the mentally ill do.

What does it say about me that all my friends are ADHD?

The black boys, they pass and bob and chat to rap like it’s beat poetry in the 1960s. Here with them I am in a modern historical moment of art discovering my aesthetic and true calling. I see this after a bias worry on repeat, looking back it was not a real fear, just a humorous societal conception, and who have I ever been to subscribe to society. Me and my white girl friend out smoked them in their own home and my friend, I hugged him in front of his friends, and he walked us out of his house like a true gentleman. It was truly the part of my soul that I wanted to share in a social setting.

“You’re not in charge of me, T[redacted] is.”

It’s 10 degrees in the dark and it’s just me and my skin wrapped in tight black fabric flying up the powdered hill like I was never meant to touch the ground in the first place. It is still 10 degrees and I’m replaying everything that has ever happened like maybe I’ll get a second chance that I don’t need, but want still. The 10 degrees rummage around in my bones and all the pain this new year brought, the pain of becoming women, intertwines itself with my heart so there is no difference. The 10 degrees keep me warm, from the pit of my stomach to my chest and red cheeks. It’s enough right now.

The concept of solidarity flowed from Budimir’s lips along with sweeties and engagement, and I truly think it is the first concept I ever truly understood. I do not know respect or love or good. But I know solidarity, I know solidarity deep down in my bones and my blood and my soul. And it just goes to show, it was never me, I just never met a good teacher.

My lust still rides with you, for safe keeping.

I don’t remember what your voice sounds like anymore, I used to be able to hear it in my head.

Every man both looks like you and the man who wanted me dead.

Sometimes I am hollowed out enough that the only feeling I have is my hands and they don’t seem to bare my heart’s intentions. But it is a much deeper part of my being they represent, one I wish someone worse would fulfill for me. Pity I am the only beautiful thing.

Part of my soul is an iris in the wind.

A wealthy woman in the glass, a thesis sustaining the validity of age regression in design and mini-practice, and collections combatting change in order to hold on to something.

There was a few moments of my life where I was obsessed with the devil in the woods by the ocean and the magic I would be allowed if I could just exist somewhere beautiful to be a little odd in peace with equally passionate companionship. While the other burn outs dream of fantasy I dream of psudeo-realistic peace because I could never get there by myself, let alone with the chaos of another sentiment being.

You wouldn’t like me anymore. I’m an existentialist bc I am completely and totally unsure of myself as a concept. And it makes it immensely easier to flow along with the process of getting what I want.

In the dark the voice pokes at suicide in the highest of highest and I drown out the noise with the hope that in that grainy moment 5 guys ago you flicked away my perfect tears with your tongue and I was too intimate and vulnerable to fully feel it.

With a face this expressively cute and a brain this overwhelmingly neat I deserve a man to compliment my abundance completely.

I bet no one thinks about me at all. But that would be naive and hopeful.

If he is only supplying money as his position in your life, as soon as the money stops he no longer needs to be taken into consideration when making decisions because he is no longer a part of your life. If the only value you have is the provision of the bare necessities and no emotional connection you have no purpose after you no longer supply the means of survival because you made the decision and only did a quarter of the work needed to take responsibility for that decision.

Time isn’t who she used to be. Time used to drag and suffocate and strangle. Now Time is broad watercolor strokes to blurry, cotton eyes. I live the same day over and over with the same amount of nothing but I still do not feel the suffocation of monotonous repetition, not like I used to when I was young. I feel unfulfilled still, empty still. But it is not overwhelming. And this nothing that happens, the absolute repetition of activity happens so quickly now. Not like it used to. I feel like I’m always playing catch up. There’s never enough time, or maybe I am newly blind to her movement? Whatever the case, Time and I are strangers now, which is such a shame because I used to know her intricately, anxiously so.

Sometimes I dissolve into words, I think that’s why everything moves so fast.

I’m going to force my oddity on man and disregard everyone that has anything at all to say. I always said I was crazy, which drew extensive attention, but I no longer think that is fitting for me and who I aspire to become. I think I desire much more to be odd than to be mad. Eccentric.

A man bought me six and a half hours (after tax) worth of stuffed animals. And I haven’t even had sex with him. Fuck, that kind of feels like debt. Can I like hang out w him and like “drop” $50 somewhere he’ll eventually notice. I’ve never had to do that before, but I am willing to go that far. Actually, I did that to my GM last break (and I shouldn’t have, I deserve better compensation for my labor, but I refuse to be rude ever).

Why would I want a man that smells like wood?

Hanging out w me is like just me saying “no babies” over and over in different voices.

The feeling drips like sunflower blue syrup down my back. It feels too sharp to be harmless, but too quick to enjoy. And it leaves my chest hollow after it’s appearance. My limbs are heavy and my head is worried about the fluttering around that happened inside my chest last night, I wasn’t sure if it was death or symptoms of suffocation. My lungs just filled and I grasped my body from within my soul and when it was sufficient and neat, I dove back into the harmful thoughts of lust and the gripping behavior caused by being lonesome. This feeling doesn’t flow, it’s too stuck, it remains mine. So instead it drips.

I want to scream that I am good at what I do because a piece of me always felt that you doubted me. I am good enough that I read a love poem out loud to my high school class with the girl in the class and I didn’t get bullied for it, it didn’t scare her away, and my teacher complimented me about it. I was known by the whole high school as a writer and it wasn’t in a bad way. I used to write and edit peoples papers and I was an English tutor for middle school. My English 101 professor told me I should Publish my paper based on the three paragraphs that I wrote in twenty minutes right in front of him. I have not read a full book since sophomore year of high school and I am able to break down structures and themes of books by picking through about 30 pages, and from that I can developed a thesis, a five paragraph outline, research questions, and eventually a 6 page paper from 30 pages of a novel. I hung out with someone, read then my poetry and they were surprised that it was not cringe. Every English teacher I’ve ever had has loved me. I was already so familiar with the English language and the concept of grammar rules and their functions that I could speak in limited vocabulary sentences in Spanish when I was taking Spanish 2 (did I cry every single day, yes, but did I get an A, also yes). When I tell you I am a writer, I mean that it is my soul. It is the only reason I am alive. When I tell you I am good at what I do I mean I’m already published. Twice. I am good at what I do. So yeah, I know what a fucking genre is, bitch.

Even my abusers will tell you I’m good at what I do.

I need someone to press their soul into mine so that I am sure I have one.

Good morning honey bun 💛 I hope you have a wonderful day today and I’ll be sending good thoughts your way all day :) love you ❤️❤️

8 year old me would think I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. I remember how critical I was of other women, I remember the way I used to pick them apart in my head about all their imperfects. It’s bc I only heard those things about myself. And I’m not proud, but I was a child and I am completely different now. I remember my favorite parts about women too. I remember how I used to melt for long hair and belly button piercings and being unashamed. I am tall and wealthy and have a million expressions. 8 year old me would stare at me in the store and hope to be her, 8 year old me would love to be 17 year old me. It’s all she ever wanted. I am everything I ever wanted. I am gorgeous.

Sometimes it’s claymation filter and my body is yellow and I am ugly and when I laugh my teeth are bucked. I get so clear that I am ugly. I get so outside of my own perspective that I have never uttered my own name.

I am so self aware and violently gone and ridiculous. And I’ve been wanting this. That I thank god for planning and hard work.

I’m a slut. :) beep

[theibblog]

How to Ace English Literature and not die in the process

I recognise that I’m no more qualified than the next IB student to give advice on subject-specific success criteria. However, since English is my favourite subject and I have spent approximately 6 of my 17 years consciously, not forcibly, studying the art of quote analysis, I’d like to think that I might have at least some useful, first-hand tips on ‘How to Ace English Literature’.  (For the record, I am currently writing my English Waiting for Godot IA, hence the more pessimistic, Samuel-Beckett inspired second half to this title.)

Improvements that make sense:

Context – I cannot emphasise enough just how undervalued knowing an author’s background is to the study of literature. After all, 25% of marks are based on your ‘Appreciation of the writer’s choices’. Throwing in a quick; ‘Beckett intends to portray hierarchy as absurd bc Hitler came to power’ or ‘Dickens wants to undermine the class system bc he was a poor boot-blacker’ should hit the criteria every time. As a starting point, I recommend wider reading – gaining a broad knowledge of ongoing events, topics of interest to the author or prevalent philosophies of the time.

Language Analysis – You know the drill; embed the quote, pull out a specific word to support your point, explain the connotations of the word, evaluate the effect of said word… I find that going with your instinct, choosing to analyse a word that captures your attention, a word that seems strange or out-of-place or evokes a particular sense of emotion or imagery, will often allow you greater insight into an author’s intentions and perhaps, to an extent, cause you to be more invested in what you write.

Interpretations – Make sure to analyse quotes and view ideas from different perspectives. Whilst the word ‘ginger’ to me might mean ‘yay, represent’ or ‘mmm, ginger biscuits’, others link the word to hot-headedness, being soulless or ‘Ron Weasly’ – clarifying perhaps more serious differences in interpretation can serve as a good way to fully develop analysis and show progression of ideas.

Writing formally – In attempting to formalise and improve your writing style, once again worth 25% of marks, it is important not to lose clarity of expression. If the word doesn’t fit, then it shouldn’t be used - this is where using thesaurus.com can cause issues. Words have subtleties of meaning, which mean they really can only be used in certain places. The best way to improve in this respect is to read, read, read, so that it becomes easy to place words in context. (There really is a lot of value in taking this point on board – whilst many people have the right and often insightful ideas, studying English is all about being able to effectively express and communicate these ideas)

Improvements dictated by the exam system:

Markschemes – Check them out: In general, aim to show good understanding of the whole text (good overview), answer the question (be specific), identify and explain the effects of particular techniques (stick close to the text), organise and develop your argument (plan) and write well (grammar, vocabulary, register). (http://www.thinkib.net/englishalanglit/page/2874/criteria)

PETAL Paragraphs – I have doubts about introducing this point. However, as a method of verification, rather than as a full-proof structure to follow, I advise checking work against the ‘Point, evidence, technique, analysis, link’ requirements. Ensuring that you have made a point, backed it up with a quote, identified a literary technique, analysed the effect and writer’s intentions and linked it back to the question can really be useful. However, I find that beginning with this structure can be limiting, unless returning back to basics, refining writing style and expelling poor habits.

EXAMS – In fact, as I wrote this post, I realised that even I was not entirely sure which exams I would have to sit at the end of my 2 years and which coursework I would need to submit. So, here’s the breakdown:

- Paper 1: Analysis of an unseen passage (The Unseen exam)

- Paper 2: Response to a question based on the works studied

- Written assignment based on the works studied in translation (a 1500-word essay on a question of your choice)

- Two oral activities presenting analysis of works read

Flashcard Quotes & Ready-made Analysis – almost like annotating, writing down key quotes, identifying techniques, effects etc. in advance is a great revision and preparation technique, although this goes against all my impulsive needs to say that English should happen naturally and is best on-the-spot, exams dictate otherwise

In general, the more research you do and the more seriously you approach the subject as a worthwhile academic process - sidestepping misconceptions of English as flimsy, subjective and over-emotional - the more you will get out of it. There really is an art to writing well, formulating reasonable, evidenced arguments and to understanding the finer details of a text, that is hard to achieve.