hazzaxvogue0 - Tumblr blog

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Love isn’t something that weak people do. 

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wanted to try one of those compilation posts i’ve seen lately in order: lady bird (2017) // changed - catie turner // ribs - lorde // the perks of being a wildflower (2012) // funeral - phoebe bridgers // do not wait - wallows // love, simon (2018) // euphoria (2019-) // bear - the antlers

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People who dog-ear and make marks in their books are 10383738x sexier smarter and cooler than people who act like marking books is a federal crime

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Dante Gabriel Rossetti

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I see a lot of people who tell young people–especially young people who are heading into college–that they should “do what they love.” And they’re right. You should do what you love.

But there’s a world of difference between doing what you love for you, and doing what you love for a paycheck. 

I went to undergrad for graphic design and 3-D design–art and more art, I usually say–and I loved it. You know what I didn’t love? Trying to collect my fees from clients. Trying to meet unrealistic, over-simplified or over-specific briefs from people who didn’t know what they were talking about. Coming home, having worked creatively all day, with no creative juice left for the things I wanted to do.

You know what I would tell you instead? Do something that you can be interested in, with people you like.

You don’t have to love it. Loving your work can be a lot, and it often means you have to live in your job 24/7. Some people can do that. Not everyone can, or should.  But if you can find work that’s interesting enough that it doesn’t feel tedious, and people you can enjoy spending your 9-5 with, and you can make money, that’s great! It means you can do the things you love for you.

I’m in law school now. It’s interesting work, and difficult, and I like doing it. I like how complicated it gets, and I like the stories it tells. But I don’t come home and read law journals for fun. I come home, and I sculpt, and I draw, and I paint, and I read. I do these things for me.

And I love it. 

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Burnout is honestly such a mild word for what people use it to mean. I'm not experiencing "burnout", which sounds so casual and routine that some face masks and a little rest is going to fix it.

My body and mind and even nervous system are stretched to the point that it's going to take a lot more than just a "break" or a few self care tips to recover, and even then, my recovery is just so that I can reenter the spaces that contributed to me being this way in the first place. I'm a little bit more than just burnt out by this.

Workplaces and educational institutions aggressively overwork us, expose us to all kinds of discrimination, which they overlook and gaslight us out of acknowledging, and then constantly ask us to ignore our mental, emotional, and physical needs so that we don't inconvenience them.

We're not burnt out. We're borderline traumatized. Burnout is always talked about like something transient and mild that a little rest and relaxation will fix.

But we're exhausted. We need deep rest and healing. We need new systems. We need new ways of being. The language around burnout just seems like a way of upholding these current violent systems and downplaying their impacts.

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physically im in my bedroom but mentally im on an island in greece singing abba 

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Ghada Karmi and Ellen Siegel, in 1973, 1992 and 2011. Photos by Francis Khoo (1, 2) and Jean-Pascal Deillon (3).

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MIA SONG

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““Books have souls. Or so romantics like me tend to think.””

— Douglas Rushkoff

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Paris, t'es mignonne. • Paris, you’re cute. • 📷 @pariswithlanden

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John Douglas Miller (1860-1903) after Frederic Leighton (1830-1896), Summer Slumber, 1898, etching. - Aesthethos Facebook - Instagram - Shop

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Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, “The night is starry and the blue stars shiver in the distance.” The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her. To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture. What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is starry and she is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me. The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same. I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing. Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses. Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long. Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her. Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.

Pablo Neruda, “Tonight I can write” 

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“Tonight I can write (The Saddest Lines),” Pablo Neruda / frenchtoastlesbian / Hozier / "seven,” Taylor Swift / Fleabag, Phoebe Waller-Bridge