early thirties, in 🇳🇴, probably twiddling my thumbs on public transport in a rain jacket
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*a video of a child who is not throwing a tantrum about eating real food, or some tips on how to get toddlers to try new things*
1,000,000 women in the comments: "must be nice having a child without ARFID and also autism and neurospiciness. my son would literally die if he couldn't eat pop tarts and doritos for every meal. it's a real medical condition and he can't help it. way to shame moms!!!"
#I feel quite strongly about this#I had about five ~safe~ groceries as a kid and even up to my teen years I did not eat things as simple as rice or tomatoes#I was underweight until puberty#but guess what we didn't resort to chicken nuggets and buttered noodles and i'm a normal adult now who can eat most things#had my friends over for a visit and they cared about their 5yo eating a lot at every meal so much#that they supplied him with Kid Food and an iPad#not a neurodivergent kid#that's my line in the sand and if my kid is like me I'll just feed them the way my mom used to feed me.......
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Sonata Arctica were so real for this
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Gothic Beauty: Issue 12
Published: Spring 2004
♡ 𖤐
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i remember the feeling of teenage obsession, and i miss it desperately. few things about our everyday lives are more genuinely magical to me than the way that loving something with commitment can rewire your understanding of time: instead of dates or semesters, i can place moments of my early life inside the year where i only read vonnegut, the month i first loved the smiths, the autumn i spent with that rilke poem. it manages to make time physical — it turns it into something that can be tasted and touched. i want my life to be textured by the periods i spent perfecting a stone fruit hot honey cake or watching murder mysteries. wouldn’t it be wonderful to one day taste a cake and remember how you felt in september? i have many criticisms of rapid-fire, non-stop consumption, but none are so personal to me as this: when we submit to a cultural landscape that tells us to never stop looking for the new shiniest thing, we lose a kind of language for understanding ourselves and others. loving is a muscle that’s been strategically atrophied by a culture of manic consumption and constant availability.
- rayne fisher-quann
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background music from windows xp installation. few people actually heard it, because it was set to play before the audio drivers were configured.
filepath: C:\Windows\system32\oobe\images\title.wma
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Do you ever fall in love with your favorite band all over again? Sometimes I forget how much the music means to me, and then at random times it will hit me and I’ll get the same feeling in my chest I felt years ago when I first heard them. It’s one of my favorite feelings in the entire world.
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pioneering something called "gritted teeth optimism" where everything is gonna turn out okay even if i have to bite and claw and gnash my way through it
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not a pixie cut not a bob but a secret third thing (long lost member of the beetles)
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On one hand I understand not teaching cursive in school anymore, because it actually is slower than regular handwriting and almost everything is typed on a keyboard now anyways.
On the other hand, so much of our (even recent!) history was written in cursive, and having a whole generation of kids who can't read letters written by their grandparents, momentos saved by their great-grandparents, or even photo albums from theur immediate family seems like a dangerously quick way to detach us from previous generations.
And on the third, related but slightly malformed hand, I feel bad that yet another form of small, everyday art that brings joy in the middle of mundane tasks, which celebrates personality and individual style and self-expression, is about to fade into obscurity because it wasn't efficient enough for today's world to put up with.
Like... if we continue to whittle away the small arts out of every day life, what's going to be left except stark, ruthless pragmatism?
Maybe writing a grocery list is less mundane when you get to feel elegant for a moment. Maybe you're a little more proud of what you write when you see it flow together like a painting
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grown woman who has had 84356728292 periods: what are these symptoms I’m experiencing
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when you’re pet pet petting your sweet little baby cat on her sweet little pumpkin head but then she starts to get overstimulated and her little tail is swooshing back and forth and you can Tell all her ancient beast instincts are kicking in telling her to maul the shit out of your hand, and she looks SO forlorn because she actually wanted more cuddles but also there’s only so much a little animal can do to contain her impulses and she looks at you w the biggest wettest saddest eyes like
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I went to a bookshop and I got dizzy at the amount of books on stuff like “astrological feminism” “reclaiming womanhood through numerology” and all that shit…… One was called “cosmic fanny” or for my french speakers out there, “foufoune cosmique”. I think the fight against patriarchy is going really well
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haunted barbie rollout
ghost bride barbie (released 10/11/2012)
vampire bride barbie (released 10/3/2013)
zombie bride barbie (released 9/28/2015)
mistress of the manor barbie (released 9/15/2014)
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i want everyone to know that i NEVER use ":)" passive-agressively ironically sarcastically etc. it is sacred to me. if i use it i am either gently smiling with eyes full of love or smiling as wide as possible so that my eyes close. i always mean it genuinely
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you ever accidentally create a recurring theme in your writing. you start putting together an outline for something you’ve never written before and get partway through planning, rearrange the pieces, and go “GODDAMMIT THIS IS ABOUT GRIEF AGAIN”? because let me tell you,
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life actually gets better when you leave the house consistently btw like im serious
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