sometimes-i-dont-exist

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reblog with one creative goal that you would like to pursue in 2025 in the tags

it doesn’t have to be ‘big’ and there is no pressure to complete said goal. but i’d love to hear from writers, artists, performers, academics, designers, coders, and so on! 🤍

if it’s a creative outlet, it’s included. let’s inspire each other ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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It’s crazy and fucked up that being yourself is actually the solution.

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Beaver supermoon.

(November 15, 2024)

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longnose gar (lepisosteus osseus) that i drew while extremely nervous in a crowded room. the form of this fish calmed me

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The Stunning Astronomical Beadwork of Native Artist Margaret Nazon

Margaret Nazon has spent the past decade building intricate beadwork depictions of outer space. The colorful artworks balance representational and stylized aesthetics set on black fabric backgrounds to depict galaxies, planets, nebulae, and other astronomical phenomena.

Initially inspired by Hubble space telescope images, Nazon’s celestial renderings are part of a lifelong interest in beading. In an interview with Glenbow, the artist shared that she began beading at age 10, but found the density of traditional beadwork to be tedious.

The abstract nature of celestial images allows Nazon to be more interpretive and incorporate different materials like caribou bones and willow seeds that have location-specific or cultural significance. Nazon is Tsiigehtchic, part of the Gwich’in community in what is now the Northwest Territories of Canada. The artist explained that because she is retired, she is able to dedicate significant time to beading, and often rises at 4:30am to begin working. Nazon plans to continue experimenting, including merging her abstract beadwork with her seamstress skills to create artfully embellished apparel.

Nazon’s artwork was most recently exhibited at Glenbow in a group show, Cosmos, and A Beaded Universe at Prince of Wales Northern Heritage Centre. You can read more about her in the Glenbow interview, and explore Nazon’s portfolio on her website.

source article: X

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*doom music starts to play* I actually kindof like scheduling these kinds of appointments now...

but seriously Fellas, don't forget to schedule a pap smear every couple of years just in case. If you still have a cervix you can still get cervical cancer. ilu

this has been a psa

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Butterscotch Steamer (via The View from Long Island)

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i keep thinking about just take it ten seconds at a time everything will be ok from unbreakable kimmy schmidt. i keep thinking about look for the helpers you will always find people who are helping from mr rogers. i keep thinking about most people are decent from rutger bregman. i keep thinking about there’s some good in the world mr frodo and it’s worth fighting for from lotr. i keep thinking about there’s a crack in everything that’s how the light gets in from leonard cohen. my brain is a washing machine of hope and i will go on i will i will will

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Stockpile HRT now.

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This is my cat.

His name is Eddie Potato.

Eddie Potato came home with us from the animal shelter in January (so about 9 months ago, now). He was around five years old, and had been living on the street before he was picked up by the cops and brought to the state run shelter (my boy was arrested for loitering). When we met him, he was sick, mite-infested, and covered in matted fur, scratches, and bites: but he was also very sweet, and very friendly, and he was already fixed, so we knew he must have once had a home with some loving humans.

[Eddie at his first vet appointment, trying to hide behind a paper towel.]

We'll never know what Eddie's first family was like, of course: but within a couple of weeks of adopting him, we were able to make a few guesses. He was happy to be pet, and calm about being picked up: but the only way he had to let us know that he'd like us to stop petting him was to swat our hands away, claws out. He'd then watch us, very closely, a little tense; like he was either expecting to be scolded for scratching, or expecting us to try to touch him again.

This told us that he had an affectionate family, but maybe not one that respected his boundaries. Maybe it was a family with kids, or maybe just a loving but pushy owner.

He's a medium-to-long haired cat, so he needs a bit of grooming to stay hygienic around his, let's say, pants area. I bought some quality clippers and a pet grooming electric razor. The clippers he was completely calm about: he let me trim the mats out of his fur very calmly, even the ones behind his ears.

The razor terrified him. I mean, he knew what it was on sight. He was sitting next to me on the couch when I took it out of the box, and the moment he saw it, his ears went back; he crouched low and fearful; and then jumped down and ran out of the room.

Okay; so his first family groomed him, or took him to a groomer, that was obvious: and it was probably a 'hold him down and get it over with' kind of experience, given how frightened he was.

He was very sweet, and very gentle - except when he wanted you to stop petting him. This was a cat who expected kindness, who believed that the humans around him were his friends: but he'd learned that his friends wouldn't listen to him when he told them to stop unless he drew a little bit of blood.

We just thought: wow, this cat is a really good communicator. He is being, like, so clear.

Eddie Potato is a very stupid boy - uncommonly stupid, even for a cat - so we prepared ourselves for it to take a while for him to learn that things had changed. We paid very close attention to him while we were petting him for the signs leading up to that swat, and we got better and better at stopping before the swat ever came.

I let him get used to the razor very slowly: for the first week, I just set it next to his food bowl at dinner time, about a foot away, so he could see it while he was at his happiest. For the next week, I'd pick up the razor, and move it around while he ate. The week after that, I turned it on for a few seconds, so he could start to get used to the noise. The week after that, it went on for most of his meal time, and I moved it around his body while I pet him: so he could start to associate the razor sound with nice touching.

Then I groomed him. And he was - fine. A little bit antsy, but fine. Happily munching away at his dinner while I neatened up his pantaloons. I usually only had about a minute before he made it clear that he wanted it to stop, but that was okay: I just groomed him for a minute or so for two or three days in a row, until the job was done.

After four months, Eddie Potato wasn't scared of the razor at all anymore.

And it broke my heart a little bit, because his first family had clearly loved him. And Eddie is a cat who needs to be groomed! And it had obviously always been a scary and stressful experience for him. But it didn't have to be! He just needed patience! Surely, if the people he had lived with before had known that he could learn to not be afraid in just a few months, they would have tried.

Teaching him that he didn't need to swat didn't take much longer. It was so clear that this was not a cat who wanted to hurt us. Once we got the hang of stopping before he got tired or stressed out by petting, the swatting went away completely.

What was so sweet was what he learned to do instead: when he was done with being pet, he started placing his big paws on my hand, and gently but firmly pushing it away.

"Oh, okay!" I'd say. "We're done!" and take my hand away. And he'd watch me, for two or three seconds: and then he'd start to purr like crazy, and push under my hand again.

He wanted to be pet. He just wanted to know that he could make it stop if he wanted to!

It's been months now since the last time Eddie swiped at either of us. Sometimes, he likes to play his little push-away game for ten or twenty minutes at a time! He rolls onto his back for a belly rub, and I do for a few minutes; then he pushes my hand away, and watches to make sure I listened; then he rolls onto his back again for more belly rubs. The whole time purring, purring, purring. Eddie loves his belly rubs, and he loves being listened to just as much.

I'm just so proud of him! He's had such a hard and scary year: losing his family, living on the street, ending up in a kill shelter, going to a strange new home with strange new people. And he still extended his friendship and trust to us, and let us show him that he doesn't need to be scared anymore, of razors or hands or thunderstorms or the sound of traffic. He's so dumb and so small and he's had so much happen to him, and now he gets exactly as much petting as he likes, and he isn't afraid to get his pantaloons trimmed.

Like. That's my little guy. I get to make sure he'll be okay from now on.

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Chai tea bag + lil but of brown sugar + apple cider packet + 16 oz. mug of hot but not quite boiling water

it will not Fix You but like. maybe. maybe.

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is there anyone out there with a nyt cooking subscription

will they send me the chamomile tea cake with strawberry icing recipe

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thinking about anastasia trusova paintings again

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An embroidery of the Wikipedia page for embroidery.

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I have a fantasy novel in my brain inspired by a dream I had when I was in college, and I want to write about it someday.

The story takes place on a world that is a flat, infinite plane. Every morning the miniature sun of this world rises vertically out of a caldera of a volcano. Its light and heat allows a circle of the plane to be warmed, and it falls and sets in the same volcano every night.

Immediately surrounding the volcano is a world of blasted and blackened stone. Beyond that is a Goldilocks zone of temperate climate, where most of the populace of this world lives. And at the very edge of civilization is a ring of snow and freezing winds, where the very last of the sun's light and heat feebly tries to warm the world.

Beyond that ring - beyond the spotlight of life illuminated by the miniature sun - is a world of darkness and ice. No light, no life, no heat. Explorers say every day that there must be worlds beyond the one lit by their own sun, and venture into the shadow and frost to find them.

They never return.

And then one day in the village of Longshadow - a village at the furthest edge of the sun's light, where shadows only ever stretch in one direction - someone returns from the darkness. They say they found something in the ice.

They say found a sun in chains.