the-timony-souler - Tumblr blog

[the-timony-souler]

I'm slowly getting to grips with holding a pen again – it hurts like hell, and I have to take a break every few minutes – but look! I made Something! It took three hours and a whole lot of tears, but I'm proud of it.

[the-timony-souler]

Hi friends, I'm in a bit of a pickle. I've got herniated disks in my cervical spine, and they're all inflamed and doing weird things to my nerves so I can't really do much being in constant pain and not being able to use my right arm.

And I've lost my job, I can't teach the wee ones and I can't do a whole bunch of other things like drawing and painting and taking care of the million things one needs to every day.

Oh, and my landlords started the eviction process while I was hospitalised so I've got impending homelessness to deal with too.

So all of that is to say: I need help.

There's a gofundme up and running and it'd be amazing if you could share and/or donate so that I can have just the tiniest wee bit of a reprieve amidst all of the other things that are going wrong.

The cats will also be grateful, in so much as cats can be.

[the-timony-souler]

Hi friends, I'm in a bit of a pickle. I've got herniated disks in my cervical spine, and they're all inflamed and doing weird things to my nerves so I can't really do much being in constant pain and not being able to use my right arm.

And I've lost my job, I can't teach the wee ones and I can't do a whole bunch of other things like drawing and painting and taking care of the million things one needs to every day.

Oh, and my landlords started the eviction process while I was hospitalised so I've got impending homelessness to deal with too.

So all of that is to say: I need help.

There's a gofundme up and running and it'd be amazing if you could share and/or donate so that I can have just the tiniest wee bit of a reprieve amidst all of the other things that are going wrong.

The cats will also be grateful, in so much as cats can be.

[the-timony-souler]

An Ode to Holiness, Maybe

It's 5am again and didnt that used to feel like most beautiful time to be awake

I thought this would be a love letter to those spiritual moments that can exist only before dawn breaks the illusion

But no matter where I end up I'm always homesick for the place I was before

Homesick for places that were never even home in the first place

And I feel a longing for nowhere that's somewhere that's slowly killing me

And these spiritual moments are nothing close to holy anymore

The stars don't seem to shine quite like they do over a cold loch on a moonless night

Or hide behind the lights of cities that are as loud as I wish I could be

I took a walk down memory lane today and as I rattled off fun little facts I conveniently edited out the traumas that they exist in

I survived all of that though I was convinced I wouldn't make it very far

It's hard to envision living longer than the hell you're in could exist

But then somehow you do and no one ever tells you how

And I should have gone to bed hours ago when my eyelids were heavy and my head was almost empty

But making a chain felt like the most important thing to do because when I've burned all the bridges

All I can do is tie new threads and hope they won't end up soaked in tears that burn wilder than I could ever hope to be

When did 5am become loneliness instead of love

And when did I forget that I am holy

That I am body and blood

That I am the sins of all those who came before me

That I am marked for greatness for all suffering comes with ease and carrying this burden is my ticket to heaven

Lying to myself has become the only truth I know these days but I'm too tired to try and

The coming of dawn does nothing but curse me with another day that I do not want and

I suppose that this has become a love letter

To all the things I have forgotten to remember

[the-timony-souler]

Am I supposed to be somehow grateful to have survived all the things I've lived through?

To have crawled through the dark and suffering and carried it all the way through to this light and carrying it still?

Am I expected to say thank you for being bent and broken out of shape and living still?

[the-timony-souler]

Libraries are so freaking important

A question I get asked a lot while working at a public library is "how do you deal with homeless people?"

And the answer is, we don't.

The unhoused people who come here seeking refuge 99% of the time understand that they will be kicked out if they misbehave.

The people you have to watch out for are Jessica, who only came because the kid she didn't want had to visit for a homework assignment and she just *needs* to yell at her child for asking to borrow two books or stay an extra five minutes, or Michael, who came in to look at porn on our computers for whatever fucking reason, or Karen who just wanted to come by to throw a fit that the particular book she wanted was checked out and harrass our staff about our collection being too limited.

99% of the time, the people we need to ban are middle to upper-middle class white people while the homeless and mentally ill/disabled people mind their own damn business and are honestly some of the best patrons we have.

[the-timony-souler]

nobody ever gets the mugshot of gluttony right. these days you think it has nothing to do with bodyweight. what a good trick: that gluttony could take a shape. no, there was never any fault in finishing a meal or in taking second helpings. it was always in taking from others that there was an issue - the oil baron's fingers steepled over dead bodies and stolen lands. gluttony - twin of greed, although most think greed and envy are the siblings - gluttony is pleased with the experience of gaining, is thrilled just-by-having. greed is the one that stays hungry, that has to move forever like a shark. gluttony likes it - "a glutton for punishment" is one who is seeking the harm, who loves the rush.

gluttony is a mother using her daughter's body for a diet testing ground, sharpening the bone angles. gluttony is saying why, well not! to the seventh and eighth mansion or yacht. it is not just wanting the six white horses, it is making sure that the horses came from your stables. it is not just bathing in milk - it is bathing in milk while others are starving.

oh, it's true that some sins still blaze in their bright floral prints. wrath in a white woman yelling at a person of color for even daring to be in her neighborhood. the red, incipient rage of a neck tightened at even the thought we would take the guns away. wrath has laurels, and she is good at her job, and works hard.

but sloth wasn't ever the sleepy morning of depression, the hours spent begging a clouded body to please move goddamn it; the protestant work ethic claiming even rest is somehow demonic. it was never chronic fatigue. sloth was subtle, a grey mist. she is watching you get bullied and she is deciding it is none of her business. she crosses the picket line because - what! it's just chicken, isn't it? she is closing her eyes and turning her head when the next anti-gay legislation passes. someone else will handle it. not the tense freeze of anxiety or a lack of preparation - she knows you're hurting and would rather you stay quiet about it. she tells other people i just don't see what the big deal is.

sloth is a father that doesn't do the dishes. sloth is your boyfriend's innocent shrug you're just better at household shit. sloth isn't the missed opportunity - it is the purposeful desire to just get-someone-else-to-do-it.

greed and envy are doing body shots in the back of a private jet. they are the way they always have been, but are lovers in the age of the internet. greed just finished union busting, is rolling a bitcoin over his knuckles, is about to start another MLM. envy is in a broadbrimmed hat, showing off her instagram life, grinning about how if you want it, work for it.

okay, it's true. you have a soft spot for lust, gathering dust in a corner. so tame in comparison to the others. but how funny lust is always painted as being a woman in tight clothes. you've met actually lustful women - the ones that purposefully climb into your partner's lap, the ones that say lesbians are gross but ask bisexual women into bed with their husbands. a lustful woman is not donned in lace and garters and red: that's how men think lust looks, painting their own sins into frame. this way, the sin displaces as fog and hovers above her: a woman in a dress is lust; what the man experiences is just the natural consequence.

here is the thing: lust is doing just fine, save your pity. lust is running more circles than any of them. lust is shutting down safe sexwork sites while also making teenagers in knee-high socks sex sensations. lust is CEO of an advertising network where women never pass 25 years old. all the bras lust makes are pretty to look at but, when worn, legitimately hurt. lust has a podcast, his fur coat looped around his shoulders, sells the idea that only certain people have value, that sex raises some and destroys others. lust is tilting his head and asking what did you expect when you dress like that? lust shuns you, sneers that everything you want is disgusting and taboo - right until he can figure out how to capitalize off of it. lust has the midas ability: everything he touches becomes an object.

people usually say wrath is the scary one. you agree with FMA here, though: the real dangerous one is pride, and the shit-eating grin. the white cloaks and the nationalism and the inability to apologize. it is every partner who threw a book at your head because you don't respect him. it is every mother who said my son doesn't deserve to have his life ruined over allegations. it is the teacher that fails you because you talked back.

you worry you have this one. you feel guilty when you need help but don't ask for it. prideful. ashamed when you complete something and feel good about it. too proud for your own good. but pride is not the reward of hard work or accomplishment: pride is a twitter feed. it is the thing that has to mask i didn't do anything with look at me.

pride is your father's raised hand, his raised voice. how he was never there when you needed him, but he is still "head of house." he ruins dinner and blames it on you: you're an embarrassment to this family. this is the glass you walk around, the cuts in your feet. how he says this isn't how i raised you and you have to bite back the retort: that's because you didn't actually fucking raise me.

[the-timony-souler]

Punk is also being the ones the system is fighting against

Punk is whatever the state fucking hates so I'm sorry to announce to the functionally conservative but contemporary punk isn't leather jackets and punk rock from the 2000s, it's hyperfemininity, it's transsexualism, it's kinky leather harnesses, it's polyamory, it's Black female rappers, it's reading books from the library, it's pirating media, it's sharing your Netflix and Prime and Spotify passwords, it's patching up your thrifted clothes with cute embroidery until they're in tatters, it's "borrowing" groceries from corporations that make up inflation that doesn't exist, it's supporting small weird freaky artists on Etsy instead of buying the newest Official™️ boring low effort promotional image enamel pins, it's drawing and writing the raunchiest most disgusting and freaky porn you could possibly fathom, it's showing off your tits or top surgery scars in public, it's cis women packing and cis men tucking, it's dykefags and fagdykes and boylesbians and girlgays, it's paying for OnlyFans of trans people fisting themselves, it's making up new genders and sexualities and romantic orientations and editing whole new flags for them, it's refusing to label yourself for the gratification of a government that wants to know under what misspelled drafty legislation they should legally kill you

Punk is being/supporting whatever the state currently fucking despises and wants to burn off the face of the earth, not whatever you think is Punk Aesthetic. If you wanna be punk just to look like you were born in the 80s instead of actually BEING PUNK by supporting the degenerates and the freaks and the sex workers and the BIPOC and the transsexuals and the faggots and the dykes, burn your fucking $800 corp bought leather jacket because you're not Hobie Brown you're just a fucking poser.

Punk is fighting the system beside the ones the system is fighting against, Punk isn't a Pinterest moodboard.

[the-timony-souler]

izzat: a word used to control and police the behaviour of a woman who may just learn how to think for herself

and when she does she might realise that when a man twice her age cries apni izzat sambhalo because her dupatta has slipped a little too much he has left that sentence unfinished and the words he won’t say out loud are or i will do it for you and his way of saving her will not be holy he will tell the world that she deserved her fate because she was besharami and her batameezi could not go unanswered and her khamoshi will be perceived as consent after all who would take her word over his?

izzat: a concept created by men to make sure men can take what they want when they want how they want

[the-timony-souler]

Dreaming in Poetry

I dream in a language that breathes poetry In words that will never reach the Waking world because tujh mein rab dikhta hain does not sound quite as meaningful and saying you have saved my soul does not convey how aaj mujhe sukhoon mila hain and lafz are so much more than just words aur khaab aur dua mein kya farq? But not every hope is a prayer and Meri zabaan ki keemat Is the soil that my father’s aspirations were Planted in – the same soil so many of us have Bled for yet never felt beneath our feet Aur kaun samjhe ga when I tell you that dreams are the only place ` my shayari is not answered by your war cry aur zinda rehne ke liye I have hidden the waves and curves and twists of my language in the quietest places because When my father carried jaan and zindagi and pyar and khushi over oceans in a heart that would know only rahaish he found nothing that could compare and when he taught me every line and curve and dot would create A melody that only we could love I learned that I carry worlds on my tongue aur meri zabaan anmol hain

[the-timony-souler]

I think I lie to myself the most (I should probably stop doing that) And I keep wondering why it always rains on me (is it like in that Travis song because I lied when I was seventeen?) And sometimes I wonder if we’re all lying to ourselves To get through the day (saying it’ll be okay tomorrow or the next day or the next until the day we die) But I was talking about lying to myself And my favourite lies are the ones that keep me moving through a life I usually can(t) be bothered living (lies like love and other beautifully deranged things) And I tell myself the best is yet to come (but it probably never will) And I hope for something more than faded glimmers Of pointless hope (and I keep telling myself I’m optimistic) like breadcrumbs In a forest that will only lead to despair (but isn’t that where we all end up somehow?) Trying to untangle a thread hoping To find the knot that’s tying up The wrong loose ends (and there oh-so-many of those hanging around my heart) but it’s an impossible endeavour because theSkeins of kismet (or whatever you like to call it) are a spider’s web That will trap you in a never-ending question (and when all you’re looking for is answers it’s the last place you want to be) So I'll keep lying to myself and turn the heart-break into poetry no one asked for (and hope they'll take it anyway) and I'll keep making those lies as pretty as the boys I (shouldn’t) fall in love with.

[the-timony-souler]

questions to ask yourself when you are tired of running in circles

do you have someone to call at 3am - when it feels like your whole world is falling apart?

when the silence is too loud and opening your eyes doesn’t end the nightmares when there are too many unanswered questions and thinking out loud is the only way to untangle memories that stained your teeth because you thought swallowing them would somehow stop the bleeding only now every time you try to smile nothing but the hurt shines through and all you learned is that you’re only beautiful when you’re covered in scars because the world needs everything to be imperfect to condone caring about it

will you actually call them?

and when you do will you dance around the secrets that gnaw at your insides trying to escape into the light – where maybe they won’t seem quite as monstrous as they feel when they’re locked up inside you – and maybe a problem shared becomes a solution when you let someone else shine a light on it but you never really learned how to put words to it and the weight of the burden you’re breaking under is far too heavy for somebody else’s shoulders and you’ve always been too proud to accept the hands that have offered to help bear the load but maybe leaving pieces of it buried behind you under the glass you crawled over to get here will let the broken bones heal and maybe you’ll figure out how to do that someday

when you think of love does it feel like healing or hurt?

you always say nothing is ever easy and nothing is ever free and the stitches that wind their way through your heart are proof enough of that – so why bother to think about love when all it’s ever been is hurt but remind yourself that for every one that broke you there was another there to help patch you up with golden needle and spider-web silk marking your heart with soft glows instead of hard blows because fists and cigarette burns leave nothing but cold and you never knew how to keep yourself warm without someone else setting you on fire first

are you happy – right now, in this moment, in this exact version of yourself?

Knowing the answer to that question is next to impossible but you are not who you used to think you are – who you thought you were supposed to be but what is happiness anyway and how are you supposed to decide if this is it if smiles are only used to mask the pain and laughter hides all the things you can’t say out loud but maybe that’s just what happiness looks like

is there a single thing you would change about who you are right now?

you let someone else dictate who and what you should be and you never questioned why you let their standards erase your own- and now you’ve gone and exhausted yourself chasing the myth of ‘enough’ without ever stopping to look in the mirror and realising that you have always been enough- because when you stand still your soul shines bright on kindnesses you planted in soil everyone said would never nourish but you'll keep running never looking back and you'll never run far enough – see they lied when they told you that stopping is failing and you tied those words around your neck never wondering why you chose to wear the noose

do you know how to?

there's never been a single thing you couldn't do when you put your mind to it – except being soft and kind to yourself- and you can't remember a time when it wasn't you against the world alone and lost and hopeless and helpless so you learned the only thing darkness and demons can ever teach: to build impenetrable walls that only ever locked you in to arm yourself for battles that you will on ever fight against yourself to hurt them before they tear open old wounds and new and through all of this you will snuff out anything that could begin to resemble hope but there’s always that one stubborn star that refuses to stop glowing even after it has long been pronounced dead and dust – and it will name itself chance- the chance to surrender your defences, the chance to throw down your weapons the chance to remove the armour that only ever bound and suffocated – and chance will become hope and become dream and become love and faith and trust and you will learn that you can be soft and you can be kind when you stop seeing what you expect and start looking for something you’ve never known before

but do you actually want to?

you will start tomorrow – because it’s a ‘new day, new you’ kind of moment and you will make promises the same way you make up lies to decorate the home you never got to build- and tomorrow will come to hear you say “i am too tired now, i’ll start tomorrow, after i’ve gotten some rest” – but you do not know how to stop running away from the ghosts that live inside your ribcage – beating a rhythm that never lets you think of something that could be more than this and every tomorrow will be just like today and so will the lies you keep telling yourself

[the-timony-souler]

[the-timony-souler]

I have dreamed of dying

And it is new and old and something unrecognisably familiar

I have dreamed of living

And it is an impossible dream because it is unrecognisable and unfamiliar

I have dreamed of dying and it is

Jarring to come back to life every single day

Without the joy of living

I used to dream of dying

And

I used to dream of living

And

Now I am somewhere in between the two

I have dreamed of dying whilst walking among the living

And it is something uncomfortably familiar

I have dreamed of living whilst haunting the dying and dead and gone

And it is something impossibly comforting

I have dreamed and dreamed and dreamed

I have lived and lived and lived

I am dreaming of living and I am living to dream

[the-timony-souler]

Self Care is not just doing things that comfort you. It is spending the day with a friend doing things that make you happy while talking about what makes you unhappy. It is saying I need you to make time for me I am not doing okay right now. It is saying thank you to people who show unwavering faith in you. It is saying please be with me before and after a meeting at work which I know is going to end with me being asked to quit so that I do not breakdown. It is eating a scone at a cute cafe with a friend while trying to figure out what the fuck you're going to do with your life. It is saying I know you are busy but I need you to listen to me and tell me everything is going to be okay. It is remembering that you are worth the attention and support that the people around you give you every single day. #21TageFreude #21daysofjoy #photochallenge #photography #photographersofinstagram #photographersofvienna #igersvienna #viennablogger #teatime #selfcare #learning #iloveyouguys

[the-timony-souler]

Yesterday was supposed to be my Happy Day - curled up on the couch, the washing machine rumbling along as a soundtrack to The Girl on the Train, as I sipped delicious tea (or wine, if the mood took me) - instead it ended up being a horrid, stressful, tearful day. I spent nigh on six hours in waiting rooms, I worried about not receiving my salary this month, I worried about the blood clots inside my shoulder and whether this meant an operation in the near future, I worried at the pain and the fire I could feel in my neck and shoulder, I bit back the tears of frustration that haven't stopped threatening for the past month. Yesterday was not a good day. Today though? Today was a wonderful day, spent with a great friend talking, eating, drinking and generally feeling a little happier. I still wanna cry, and I might yet, but mostly I feel a warm, fuzzy feeling on the inside because I was productive and relaxed and at ease today. #21TageFreude #21daysofjoy #photochallenge #photography #photographersofinstagram #photographersofvienna #igersvienna #viennablogger #happymoments #cosy

[the-timony-souler]

So yesterday I mentioned that I'd made another challenge for myself, and when I showed the prompts to @anetakpawlik she was totally on board to do it with me too - so I thought 'why not invite everyone else?'. It's a 21 day challenge, beginning on the 10th of January. The hashtag is #21TageFreude which is, for my non German speaking friends, 21 days of happiness. I really hope you guys will take part and I'm looking forward to seeing all your awesome pictures! #photochallenge #photography #photographersofinstagram #photographersofvienna #igersvienna #viennablogger #prettyshinythings