cglacia - Tumblr blog

[cglacia]

Stay in my light.

[cglacia]

[cglacia]

Listen, Alan the tortured writer and sad pathetic little meow meow is totally fine. But what about Alan Wake the man. The husband. The reason of Alice's sleepless nights. The reason why he keeps trying to get back home. Because he misses his wife. Dumb jokes in the bathroom in the morning. Kisses on the temple. Making each other a cup of coffee. Loving text messages during the day. Naughty ones too. Hands roaming all over. Groceries shopping. The eternal "what do you want for dinner" question. Looking at old photographs. Falling asleep in front of the TV together. Alice picking up his worn socks. Alan complaining about how long it takes until she gets ready for the day. Holding hands. Casual butt slapping. Spontaneous movie dates. Making out at parties when nobody's watching. Him burying his face in her hair because he likes the scent of her shampoo. Comfy clothes on rainy Sundays. Alice ignoring his bad singing under the shower. Making love in the middle of the night. He misses all of that. He sits in the writers room, curled up in the corner, and he desperately tries to remember what she looks like.

[cglacia]

shout out to my girlies who say WedNessDay in their heads

[cglacia]

[Ilkka very gentle person with enchanting eyes and smile Villi]

[cglacia]

cat ears are now part of fbc's official uniform. director faden's decree

[cglacia]

My high school has always had a speech from both the valedictorian, and someone who "embodies the spirit of the graduating class". Which led to one class selecting a guy who was big in the drama club and gave a hilarious speech.

[cglacia]

Control (2019)

# # # / / # !? $$ *^^ () ### #

[cglacia]

We got some horrible storms a few weeks ago that knocked out power to my neighborhood for two full days. One of the worst parts of it was having to listen to my neighbors' gas-powered generators chugging away at all hours of the day and night. They were so goddamn loud I felt like I was standing next to a lawnmower.

traffic and lawn mower noise making me EXPLODE

[cglacia]

[cglacia]

i saw a dumb tweet. here's a poll for people who read a lot of books as kids. there's no moral judgment attached to this poll at all; i do not care if it was your favourite book, that's completely fine, you don't have to lie just because you hate jkr now. answer honestly to the best of your recollection.

[cglacia]

wakers i'm curious:

[cglacia]

It was actually Julius, Remedy Poison Pill's other community manager!

whoever runs this account deserves millions

[cglacia]

Vintage Porcelain Covered With Hand-Painted Ants by La Philie

[cglacia]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[cglacia]

purpose of this poll: basically im wondering if my gran having a pistol was a typical american experience

[cglacia]

I had a professor in college, this tough-as-nails farmer, who needed a PICC line to treat MRSA that he caught after surgery for a farming injury. For those who don't know, a PICC line is basically a narrow tube that went into the crook of his arm, all the way up his arm, into his thorax, and almost to his heart, and it constantly dispensed an antibiotic from a packet that he had to wear. (He was still able to teach and work while this thing was in his body.)

Anyway, he made it through treatment and it came time for him to get the PICC line removed, but his doctor kept having to push out his appointment or reschedule because he kept having to deal with emergencies, so my professor told us that he got fed up and just pulled the thing out himself. This tube that went all the way up his arm and almost to his heart. And according to him, he didn't have any problems after doing this.

Things that work in fiction but not real life

torture getting reliable information out of people

knocking someone out to harmlessly incapacitate them for like an hour

jumping into water from staggering heights and surviving the fall completely intact

calling the police to deescalate a situation

rafting your way off a desert island

correctly profiling total strangers based on vibes

effectively operating every computer by typing and nothing else

ripping an IV out of your arm without consequences

heterosexual cowboy