#Conditions of Life

[wanologic]

sorry danny, sam will never think you’re cool

[uncanny-tranny]

Not to sound like a person who actually cares about children, but it's so alarming that there's this tendency and trend of not telling kids about their medical conditions that are in their charts.

I'm finding out as an adult that they (though it's not documented who) diagnosed me with a life-long, chronic condition without telling me when I was a teenager. I found out recently when I got curious about my medical charts, and otherwise, I would not have known what's wrong with me. I've been left with more questions than answers, and I feel like a private investigator investigating my own damn health and life.

Is this medical malpractice? Yes. However, I think it also speaks to a broader point of how children are seen to not be entitled to their own lives in any capacity, to the point where they are (intentionally or not) made ignorant about things that are or will affect them.

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[batsyheere]

Duke, who is tired of being bullied for still having only a few spots checked off on vigilante bingo, decides to get even when family game night includes Never Have I Ever. Danny, who is either a friend or basically adopted family at this point, was invited.

He brings up the fact that he has never died and been brought back to life. Multiple fingers are put down, groans and complaints are made, and then they all turn to Danny when he just stares at the ground.

"If it happened more than once, do I put more fingers down? Or just the one?" he asks. The room falls silent for a few seconds before the flood of questions start.

[coonazz74]

I was given a name 9f a condition for why parts of my body hurt at 23. Just the name of the condition. No treatment. No referral. Just the title of the terms and conditions for my life.

My 20s were bitter with the research into what the condition was. Doctors didn't even accept the condition was real.

My 30s were spent trying to get the correct meds working for the physical and mental issues the condition causes.

My 40s have been more accepting of the conditions of my body along with tweaking meds that work for me.

Terms and Conditions of life can kiss my ass.

Some days, I've made peace with my disabilities. I've accepted that this is my life, and my symptoms will likely never go away.

Other days, I'm filled with rage that /this is my life and my symptoms will likely never go away/ and no amount of crying in doctors offices and various medications will fix me.

I'm enraged that medical professionals seem to think that because my blood work is normal, there's nothing more they can do.

Some days, I can be happy with the few tasks I can still do, or that I can still work part time.

Other days, I'm furious that life just /isn't fair/.

Today though, I'm just sad. Sad that doctors seem to not care about the invisible illness. They don't seem to care about people with chronic pain with no evident cause.

I'm just sad.

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

i think everyone who's ever had migraines should be financially compensated forever btw

[pikatik]

I just like drawing them talking

(Long haired Aziraphale again :D)

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[crescentfool]

my longest friend and companion

[buddhisms-theory-of-happiness]

[Why do some people stay in your life for long but not others?]

“We come together when conditions bring us together, and part when conditions separate us.”

This is a quote from Master Shinran in Section 6 of Tannisho. Your parents, grandparents, siblings, lovers, husbands, wives, children, friends, bosses, subordinates - you met these people because you had the conditions for you to meet.

Some people may have already left your life, such as people you haven't seen since graduation, people you dated briefly but fell out with and broke up with, or people whose time on this Earth has come to an end. In this quote, Master Shinran said you were separated from them because you had the conditions to be separated.

“To be or not to be with someone depends on conditions.”

There are people that you don't really try to spend time with, but for some reason they are always in your sight. In the workplace, that’ll be someone who you find yourself working with a lot for some reason. Conversely, you may have worked with someone for many years at the same workplace, but only remember their face and name. You’ve never had a good conversation with them and you don't really know what kind of person they are.

“Conditions” are a mysterious thing. Because of them, there’s no guarantee you can stay with someone just because you like them, and no guarantee you can leave someone just because you don't like them either. No matter how much you love someone, if there is the condition for you to leave them, you will have to leave them. There are also people who you want to stay away from because they stress you out, but for some reason, they are always around and involved in your life in some way.

A “condition” can be a very fleeting yet irreplaceable thing, while at other times it can be heavy and troublesome. If possible, we all want to live a life in which we are blessed with good conditions and can be grateful for all the conditions we have had.

It was Master Shinran who taught us of the radical transformation of mind that fills our lives with brightness and inspires within us deep gratitude for all the conditions that surround us.

Three points I talk about in this video are :

1. "Animate and inanimate conditions" 2. "Were a husband and a wife enemies a long time ago?" 3. "Shingyobo"

Hope you enjoy the video. Thank you.

[wachtmeister4art]

Turb-o-lence (2023)

New Media Art | Vector Graphic | Art Print Edition | © 2023 Bernd Wachtmeister

[duckysprouts]

somehow i ended up on horrid henry twitter after years of forgetting it existed and i remembered how messed up his home life is. true british suburban horror

[bacchuschucklefuck]

space sweepers but they're delivery people and are at no point on screen through the entire movie

[rachemchul]

The Umbrella Academy Season 4, Episode 5 Six Years, Five Months, and Two Days

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

i actually really hate those posts where everyone is like "ough oigh i would have died in 1600 because of [reason]" like its annoying and its actually fucking sad how so many of you seem to view the past and the people in it. Autistic people in the past had full and happy lives. Jewish people in the past had full and happy lives. You would not have been "burned as a witch" for having adhd, you have a persecution complex thats deeply annoying and ahistorical. The lives of marginalised people in the past were not just strife and suffering and dying violently and frankly its offensive that yall keep trying to reduce it down to such. Why are you so obsessed with erasing the spectrum of human existence why are you so obsessed with erasing joy why are you so obsessed with denying the capacity for marginalised people to have been happy

[uncanny-tranny]

I think it would really benefit people to internalize that mental illnesses are often chronic and not acute. Some of us will never be able to jump the hurdle of managing illness, much less sustaining a sense of normalcy. Many of us will never "recover," will never manage symptoms, will never even come close to appearing normal - and this is for any condition, even the ones labeled as "simple" disorders or "easy-to-manage" disorders.

It isn't a failure if you cannot manage your symptoms. It isn't a moral failure, and you aren't an awful person. You are human. There's only so much you can do before recognizing that you cannot lift the world. Give yourself the space to be ill because, functionally, you are.