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bigskydreaming · 3 years ago

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Making an additional post to respond to @fuyunoakegata’s response to @fiyaerrigan’s post here without derailing or going too far afield from the OP:

I think an additional thing to consider that the other kids had by benefit of Dick being the eldest is......every single one of them to varying degrees had Dick to look to as a precedent for like.....reassuring themselves that their presence in Bruce’s life wasn’t a temporary thing. Dick’s constant or recurring presence was an affirmation of permanence - that no matter how bad things got between Bruce and one of his kids, since things HAD been very dicey between Dick and Bruce for awhile - Dick still was there, at the end of the day.

Now, the obvious sorta exception to this is in Jason’s POV, with it being a sorta exception cuz there’s a couple different ways you can play this. By emphasizing how much Bruce and Dick were on the outs from Jason’s POV while he was living with Bruce, you CAN cast doubt on the idea that Dick was proof things would never get so bad with Bruce that he would just stop being part of their lives. And then this in turn can be used as a sort of explanation for why Jason was so convinced that there was no coming back from a lot of what he’d done by his return to Gotham, even without the events of UTRH....like, you can make the case that this is why Jason escalated things to that extent period. He thought reconciliation was never truly ever an option.

But by the same token, you can also use the fact that Dick IS reconciled with Bruce by the time of UTRH to seed doubts about this in Jason’s head, because he DOES remember just how bad things were between Bruce and Dick when he was younger....and if they could come back from that, maybe it WASN’T just wishful naivete to think that there could be a future for Bruce and Jason’s relationship as well, y’know?

To cycle back to the beginning though....it should be acknowledged imo that Dick never had the benefit of this proof of permanence, this security blanket of knowing that no matter how bad things got with Bruce, there wasn’t truly a point of no return. That WAS in doubt for him a lot of the time. Which gives him all the more motivation to see what we so often see evidence of in the comics - Dick going above and beyond to stress to his siblings that they aren’t temporary in his eyes, and their connection is not just limited to being via Bruce. They’re his siblings with or without Bruce in the picture.

Now to respond more directly to what @fuyunoakegata had to say in that last reblog addition, I think the fact that Dick is so good at translating what Bruce leaves unspoken is actually a key part of the conflict between Dick and Bruce at so many points. Because the thing is....Dick should never have HAD to become that good at it. He became good at it by necessity, because Bruce does leave a lot unspoken and taken for granted, and at a certain point Dick realized he’d just have to fill in the blanks himself.

But given that Dick was the traumatized kid that Bruce chose to take in as an adult - no matter how young of an adult he was - there’s an inherent disservice in not recognizing that it should never have been on that kid to feel HE had to be the one to bridge the communication divide between himself and his guardian when said communication felt lacking. That is the responsibility of the guardian or parent, its literally a key part of the sense of security its their job to offer the traumatized orphan in their care.

That’s not to say, however, that its not realistic for this to happen this way - and for reasons that actually have nothing whatsoever to do with Bruce, and everything to do with Dick. Because it is possible that Bruce just never quite clued into just how much Dick was assuming the burden of translating Bruce’s intentions into actual communication and filling in the gaps where Bruce was leaving stuff unsaid.....because as I’ve said before, for all their similarities and parallel tragedies, a key part of Dick’s tragedy that Bruce simply couldn’t relate to, was the abandonment fear of being sent away for not being good enough or being too much of a burden. Bruce has HUGE abandonment issues due to his own tragic loss of his parents - but his abandonment issues tend to be more geared around losing people to tragedy or death.

Now from a parental standpoint, he does have fears of driving his kids away by not being good enough for them or by hurting them in various ways, true.....BUT the specific overlap he lacks is that he’s never really identified from the perspective of a child, with that fear of a parent or guardian not wanting to deal with him or be burdened by him anymore. When he was raised by Alfred, he feared losing Alfred in a variety of ways, but not really so much by driving Alfred away or making him sick of him....because there has always been at least an implicit awareness, even while acknowledging that Alfred basically raised him, that Alfred still technically worked for the Wayne family, and Bruce simply wasn’t ever in a position to feel quite as dependent on Alfred and say...his ‘whims’ or whatever, as other children might in regards to their own parents. Alfred’s loyalty is readily apparent and of a more....fundamental sort than most others can claim, y’know?

So I think one of the key divides between Dick and Bruce, a NATURAL area of oversight for Bruce, who tends to take for granted at times how much he and Dick are alike in certain ways.....is that it wouldn’t necessarily ever occur to Bruce just how much Dick feared being a burden who could and might be sent away at any time he became too difficult to be worth putting up with anymore. And by not realizing how big a role this played in Dick’s thoughts as he grew up, its natural that Bruce wouldn’t necessarily notice just how almost....eager Dick was to jump at filling in gaps in communication himself rather than risk having to insist Bruce clarify himself or his intentions in order to be understood instead. Dick didn’t want to give his guardian any reason to send him packing - so he voluntarily took up the role of Bruce-translator early on, before ever even alerting to Bruce that there was anything about his communication tendencies that might be lacking and left Dick occasionally grasping for assumptions to fill in the blanks.

But see, the problem that naturally arises from this sort of inherent miscommunication or oversight, no matter how understandable it is....is that it over time builds in an expectation or even reliance on Dick doing the majority of the work and emotional labor when it comes to understanding each other. And the precise problem this creates lies in when Dick for whatever reason - such as believing Bruce has already as good as cast him aside and no longer wants to be burdened with him - like, if for whatever reason Dick STOPS doing the majority share of their communication, if he no longer sees a reason to translate Bruce’s thoughts into actual words of affirmation and read approval into his actions or assume the best of Bruce’s intentions......if Dick basically just stops TRYING here, because he’s convinced there’s no longer any reason to try and the worst has already happened, the very thing he was going above and beyond in filling in Bruce’s gaps in communicating himself in order to avoid happening in the first place....

Then Bruce is going to flounder, naturally, because all of a sudden its going to seem like nothing he says or does in the ways he’s always been used to communicating himself like, seem to be getting through to Dick or leaving him with the same understanding or awareness of Bruce’s true feelings that he’s grown used to Dick having, based just on whatever Bruce DOES actually do or say.

So from Bruce’s perspective, its going to be like nothing he says seems to make any impact on Dick or convey to him that Bruce does in fact still love him and care....BECAUSE Bruce hasn’t quite realized yet just how much Dick has HAD to fill in those blanks for himself, because Bruce’s actual communicating of them has not actually involved ever FULLY expressing those sentiments.

Hence, their complete communication breakdown after Dick was fired and/or Jason was made Robin and adopted without consulting or even alerting Dick to the fact beforehand, or reassuring him that this didn’t actually say anything about Bruce’s feelings for his eldest. As well as Bruce’s seeming obliviousness as to why.

And another thing I want to add here is that I always tend to push back a lot against people bringing up how young Bruce was when he took Dick in, and how that explains his lapses in parenting....

Because the thing this fails to take into account IMO is that like.....by and large, and with obvious occasional exceptions like Robin: Year One.....its almost unanimously agreed that Bruce was at his BEST as a parent to Dick - whether thinking of himself as his father yet or not - in their early years together. So I don’t see how Bruce’s young age can excuse his later lapses in parenting Dick, when it was at his YOUNGEST, that Bruce was at his BEST in parenting Dick. To me, his age has nothing to do with it. The difference in Bruce’s effectiveness in being a parent to Dick at various stages in my mind lies entirely in the fact that in those early years, Bruce was most consistently putting in his most effort into being there for Dick, being the person Dick needed him to be, etc.

Basically, those early years were so good between them, compared to other periods, because even with Dick assuming more responsibilities than he ever should have had to - but for completely understandable reasons ie Bruce simply not REALIZING Dick was so desperate to not be a burden he was making sure Bruce never realized there was a problem here at all - the bottom line was it was in those earliest years that Bruce most consistently TRIED. He put his best foot forward. He did the WORK.

And thus the problem in the later years of Dick’s youth, IMO, had nothing to do with Bruce’s own relative youth - it was that I think Bruce had just gotten comfortable with their dynamic and lost sight of how much of that was due to his own EFFORT. He started to take Dick for granted, and thus defaulted more towards frustration when he didn’t understand why Dick did something or where he was coming from....where previously, he would have been more patient as he applied his intellect towards trying to figure out for himself WHY Dick was acting the way he was or what it might signify.

BUT. The point of all this digression is like.....me working my way around to how there’s not JUST an opportunity for Dick to buttress Bruce’s lapses in parenting for his younger siblings, and for them to benefit from him having gone first.....BUT, if people WANT there to be....there’s also every bit as much to fix or address a lot of the flaws in Bruce and Dick’s relationship via Bruce learning from things with his younger children like....an awareness of WHY he and Dick grew apart and how it can be addressed.

For an example.....with Jason. I’ve commented before on how a lot of authors doing revisitations of Bruce and Jason’s early years together in fic actually do a GREAT job of showcasing how patient Bruce is with him, and understanding of his history and why he behaves in various ways or reacts to things differently than Bruce would or expects.

And a lot of focus is put on how in the comics, when Bruce talks to Dick about why he took Jason in, he describes himself as having seen Jason as being a lot like him, and thus thought he could help him with his anger, etc.

See, I have always, ALWAYS, called bullshit on this point. (And that’s aimed at the comics canon btw, not fic writers).

Because uh, I just don’t see it at all. First off, Jason has always had even less in common with Bruce than Dick did, and second like, the only thing that Bruce has ever pointed to as feeling similar to Jason in....is Jason’s anger.

And like....early Jason, even after the post-Crisis origin retcon, like...wasn’t that angry! His supposed anger issues come from all of like, two different stories and that’s it. And I don’t buy that Jason was the first kid in all the time Bruce had been Batman by that point, that like, Bruce saw as a kindred spirit due to just being ANGRY. Umm, no. Sorry. That doesn’t track for me.

Especially because like....when Bruce first encountered Jason? When he first MADE the decision to take Jason in? First when meeting him stealing his tires, at which point he took him to Ma Gunn, and then after finding out that was a criminal front and deciding to take Jason in himself? Jason was like....literally not even angry in any of those encounters, lol. He just wasn’t.

Jason was scared. He was defiant. He was stubborn. He was proud. He was vulnerable. He was doing his damnedest not to show it. He was a lot of things.

What he wasn’t.....was...angry.

And so I truly don’t believe that Bruce took Jason in for reasons that had anything to do with identifying with him and seeing himself in Jason.

I think Bruce looked at that tiny young vulnerable but proud, spirited and defiant kid before him, utterly unrepentant about stealing Bruce’s tires and then hitting him with a tire iron and then with the Ma Gunn storyline....

And Bruce saw a young Dick Grayson reflected in the boy before him.

Bruce missed Dick and took Jason in as a kind of do-over, a chance to fix the mistakes he barely understood making with Dick to lose him from his life or drive him away in the first place....and just resolved to do BETTER this time. To not make the same mistakes. To be patient, understanding, to try and get why Jason did and thought the things he did instead of just making his own assumptions.

And the painful irony is that despite Bruce’s best intentions in the comics, history DID repeat himself. He and Jason became estranged, even before Jason’s death - by Bruce projecting himself and his own issues and viewpoints onto Jason rather than see Jason as an entirely different person from him. He grew to take Jason and their dynamic for granted the same way he did with Dick. A significant element of the Garzonas story that never gets talked about is that after they captured Garzonas the second time, after Gloria’s suicide and before taking him into the police where Garzonas ended up just walking again....

Bruce stood back and literally encouraged Jason to take out his anger and frustration on the man. The same way Bruce sometimes did with criminals himself. He literally stood there and watched as Jason vented his anger by beating up Garzonas further.

And THIS is the heart of why Bruce reacted the way he did with Garzonas’ death, I think. Especially when you couple it with how much of Bruce’s reactions in UTRH are based around how HIS entire reason for being unwilling to kill the Joker is because he doesn’t think he could just stop there, couldn’t pull himself back from doing it again. I think Bruce just ASSUMED that Jason had pushed Felipe to his death, because he projected himself into Jason’s shoes, and saw that moment playing out from how he feared HE HIMSELF would have reacted in that moment, if he were say as young as Jason still was at the time, and frustrated by how futile everything felt. He assumed the worst of Jason, because he identified with Jason, and in that moment, was projecting his own worst assumptions of himself in a parallel moment of intense emotional frustration and anger.

Like I said.....he drove Jason away by making the same mistakes he’d made with Dick in essence - he projected too strongly on identifying with them and thus viewing their actions or choices through the lens of how he would behave in similar circumstances and WHY....and he stopped doing the WORK of keeping in mind that they were very different people from him with very different reasons for choosing the things they choose, different histories, different priorities, different contexts.

So the point is like.....instead of letting things play out like that, since fic IS an opportunity to improve upon canon, you can draw upon literally ANY of these ideas, and like.....examine what happens if not only Dick helps his siblings in their relationships with Bruce by drawing from his own experiences with him and the mistakes there.....

But you can also examine what happens if Bruce is helped in his relationship with Dick by drawing from his experiences with his younger children and using those to identify mistakes he made with Dick specifically, and address them even now....instead of just writing off his relationship with Dick as the best it’ll ever be now and damaged beyond further repair and so instead devoting himself to trying to just do better with his younger kids.

Because see what happens then, if you use Bruce’s patience and understanding while raising a young Jason, and awareness of just how different Jason is from him....to glean for HIMSELF, without having to be told by others....an awareness that no, maybe he took in Jason for reasons that had far more to do with regrets having to do with Dick than because of identifying with Jason just himself. And from there.....a simple examination of his relationships with Dick and Jason respectively, like, even just to wonder what’s so different about his differing dynamics with the two and why is so much better now than the other...that’s literally all that’s needed for Bruce to become AWARE of how patient he is with Jason and his seeming idiosyncracies, to acknowledge the work and EFFORT he puts into building and maintaining his relationship with a young Jason....and from there....the realization that....holy shit, he’d taken Dick for granted, and THAT’S why things broke down between them. He’d stopped TRYING to understand Dick the way he was working so hard now to understand Jason, and instead just started getting frustrated with the fact that he so often DIDN’T understand Dick, period.

And once you have Bruce HAVE that epiphany, GAIN that awareness....

Its the easiest thing in the world to just write him GOING to Dick and just like...acknowledging this. Owning his faults. Admitting that he took Dick for granted and put too much reliance on Dick doing most of their communicating, fell back on it being easier that way and stopped placing importance on being the one to take the LEAD in their relationship and addressing its flaws, as the PARENT.

And just saying.....its not too late to fix this. If I can do it with Jason, if I could do it with you in the first place, I can do it again. All I need is for you to give me the opportunity to try to do just that, to do better, and instead of demanding that or expecting it from you or even just hoping for it but never actually voicing it....here is me asking for it, but letting you know I understand if you don’t trust me with that or want to risk yourself like that again.

And whammo zammo, you’ve got yourself a road to a healthier, happier Batfam, and it doesn’t require actually vilifying anyone or expecting anyone but the patriarch of the family to like....take the actual wheel.

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rivetgoth · 5 years ago

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im a transsexual guy who had top surgery last wednesday and we really Goin Thru It over here - you maybe got any cool tips that helped you recover after they carved you? stapled sutured but every time we touch then i still ooze blood and plasma onto my bandages, yknow. love ur vibe btw dude - guys like you keep the scene fun. stay evil

HEY, I hopped on my comp the second I saw this message cuz I wanted to type up a proper reply instead of battling the tiny iPhone keyboard lol. Firstly though, congrats on your surgery!! And also thank you, this is a super sweet message and I appreciate the compliments a ton, thank yew ;;w;;

ANYWAY, if it’s any consolation, about a week into my recovery I got hit with the worst post-surgery depression. I was out of my Oxycodone and so frustrated with how much pain I was still in and how sensitive and weak I felt and being forced to sleep on my back and the fact that I still had to “bind” even though I had gone through all that specifically so I didn’t have to bind anymore LOL. I had thought not being able to shower was miserable enough but showering actually worsened my mood because everything was just so sensitive and sore and stiff, I remember just straight up crying in the shower once or twice. I jus say this stuff cuz I super feel you, it was pretty difficult at times and it made me feel really frustrated because I was simultaneously so happy about getting the surgery but that was so hindered by the bad feelings I was dealing with due to how draining recovery was. It was really reassuring and also hilarious when I googled stuff about post-top surgery depression and actually found a piece written by a trans dude in the industrial scene who I was actually already friends with LMAO. And more than anything I’m just hugely thankful for my friends who were there for me during recovery at that time and helped me through it and put up with my complaining and weakness. My roommates didn’t make me do the dishes for a few weeks and little things like THAT meant the total world to me :’)

Anyway though, I do think my biggest piece of advice is to remember above all else that all of this is very, very short term. When you’re in this much pain and discomfort, especially if it’s like, your first major surgery (it was for me), it can be super easy I feel to become semi convinced that it’ll just be like this forever, and it can feel really hopeless and frustrating, and trying to remember that this is only gonna be for a few weeks to a month or two at most and then you’ll be back to normal is really reassuring. And the pay off is so worth it because afterwards you have the entire rest of your life to live with a way way way more comfortable happy relationship to your body and being able to wear the clothes you want without any discomfort at all and exist in the world in such a happier state of mind. There’s only so much advice I can give for the physical discomfort, but I think psychologically, that really is the most important thing. It can be really frustrating or stressful seeing how weak or painful it all is or seeing how fucked up your nipples or scars might look but it really is such a short term thing in exchange for an entire lifetime where you’re so much happier overall.

But as for the physical discomfort, I do think my advice is gonna be pretty obvious, which is just to keep taking pain meds and taking it easy. I was on a shitload of Ibuprofen for forever (I was taking like, 600 mg every 6 hours or so). I think that’s really the most you can do to minimize it. Luckily, I do think the pain all goes away pretty quickly. Like, within a week or two after the Oxycodone wore off the pain started to become way more manageable too. I also think it’s a good idea to try to just not think too much about the injuries themselves, I know I can be a HUGE hypochondriac and I worry a ton about stuff and there were times where I’d become so obsessively concerned about my nipples healing properly or something. Just try to do whatever instructions your doctor gave you and other than that don’t really mess with it, try to distract yourself with easy stuff like watching movies or playing games or talking to friends and just let your body do its thing. If you become really concerned about something talk to your doctor, or even just check places like FTM subreddits, because a lot of the time whatever you’re going through is something that a shitload of other guys have gone through too and it’s likely you’ll already find some threads where your concerns are dispelled. Other than that though, try not to let yourself get too focused on the scars or the nipples or any of the weird or gross or painful stuff going on, I think it’ll only cause more stress and discomfort. Every time I was kinda worried about something, when I saw my doctor about it at the next post-op he would tell me it looked completely fine, lol. Also remember that your body is REALLY going thru it right now, even though it’s your chest that’s primarily been actively impacted, it’s really your whole body trying to adjust to having been seriously physically traumatized. I had some really weird physical side effects all over, like a weird restless leg experience, some weird stomach issues, lots of soreness near my shoulders, and all of those things went away with time, it’s just your body readjusting and recovering.

But yeah, I know sometimes stuff like school and work can get in the way of being able to do this fully, but I do think my biggest advice is to just try to take it easy and take a lot of pain meds and rest your way through it. Eat well and stay hydrated, those sorts of cliche things. But also, more importantly, just remember that everything happening is very short term in the grand scheme of things, and as frustrating as it can all feel it is SO, so rewarding in the end. By the time you’re able to go out into the world without having to think about binding, and you’re able to wear whatever you want comfortably, and able to do things even as small as just walking up or down stairs without immediately feeling discomfort, or maybe you’re able to have a sexual encounter that doesn’t make you feel bad about your body… The few weeks of post-surgery discomfort will feel SO worth it.

And congrats again, anon!! 🎉

#I HOPE THIS WAS HELPFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111 #anonymous #ftm

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borisbubbles · 5 years ago

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Eurovision 2010s: 65 - 61

65. Michael Schulte - “You let me walk alone” Germany 2018

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[2018 Review Here] (shared with Eugent)

When Germany revealed this homely carrot top as their entrant I of course IMMEDIATELY rolled my eyes at it. Discount Ed Sheeran, GTFO!! Idk what the general lowdown on Ed Sheeran is, but good lord that man is responsible for some really BORING and GENERIC music (I will never get the obsession with “Perfect”, ever.) and as you can expect that also bled into my initial opinon of Michael.

However, two things. A of all, “You let me walk alone” is a much better song because it is actually VERY catchy, in a good way. ONE love / TWO hearts / THREE kids / LOVING mum is among the more memorable hooks in this decade.

Secondly, Michael’s emotion is *real*. This is a song about his coping with his dead father and well... I am not made from stone. Dude was in GENUINE TEARS during the endgame!! And as someone who deeply loves his father, I can definitely empathize with that message on a personal level.

There are better songs around. There are better performers around. There is better emotional pull left in this ranking. Regardless, Michael was able to stun me into teary-eyed silence and that is a feat which earns nothing less than RESPECT.

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64. Softengine - “Something better” Finland 2014

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FANTASTIC INDIE ANGELS <333 The appreciation I have to Softengine I have is obvious, yes? Highly energetic indie rock song from one of my favourite Eurovision countries. 😍 That also did VERY well because it’s genuinely that good. Take THAT Finland bullies!!! #HeyaSuomi

However, Softengine offer even more than just a kickass rock song. They offer some of my favourite song lyrics ever? They are both puzzlingly weird and endearingly ESL Even Human Bound People Rolling Dice Such A Novel Life She Thought While Knowing Nothing At All~

What on earth is Topi singing about? 😍 Well actually, it’s the story of an old man looking back at the life he’s had and.. It actually has a LOT of emotional pull wtf? Take a look at the bridge:

ALL THESE WORDS SHE MEANT TO SAY TO ME

ALL THESE WORDS AGAINST MY FAITH

ALL THESE WORDS BEFORE SHE PASSED AWAY

ALL THESE WORDS WILL NEVER NEVER NEVER CHANGE

A wonderful display of juvenile energy that has me coming back craving for me. SHOULD HAVE BEEN TOP 10 but lol it’s Finland when is Finland not getting bullied by people with no taste. 😭

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63. Litesound - “We are the heroes” Belarus 2012

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More rock angels. 😍 However, Litesound rank on the other end of the quality spectrum, being great because of their incompetence.

Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything more endearing when the inept give it their all, completely oblivious to their amateurism, a description which -let’s be honest- is “Belarus in Eurovision” is in a nutshell 😍. Well that plus the hilariously rigged NF, remember that ALYONA LANSKAYA originally won Litesound’s NF and then had to bequeath her spot to them when her voting fraud was exposed. 😍 It’s not even the most hilariously rigged NF of the decade though, omg YES we shall discuss that whenever it’s “Samo shampioni’s” turn. 😈

Anyway, Litesound bring the a double whammy of hilarity with some A+ Bad English diction (let us all sing along)

WONEVER STEN INDO AR WEH WHEEL MEK IT FRU DE DEH CUZ WE AR DA WEINERS WE AR DA GEEROS

WIR BRACKING DOWN DA WALLZ GODDA HIT DE MALL CUZ WE ARE DA GEEROS WE ARE DA DRIMURS

and the fact that all Litesound members look like animals, introducing:

The seahorse

The afghan greyhound

the mongoose

and of course Dima who might be the lovechild of Alsou and an ostrich. 😍

All of this may make you believe I merely stan Litesound on an ironic level, but I actually LOVE them on an unironic level too. “We are the heroes” is a fun, futuristic electronic rock rollercoaster and Litesound strike a perfect balance between good song, disarming incompetence and going ALL OUT in proving themselves as high quality, laced with high voltage addictive rock beats. SO, NO MATTER WHAT THEY SAY, NO MATTER WHAT THEY DO, I’LL MAKE IT ALL RIGHT! I’M BRACKING DOWN THE WALLS, THEY ARE THE *HEROES*

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62. Justs - “Heartbeat” Latvia 2016

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AGE OF AMINATA <3 what a glorious two-piece act in the herstory of Latvia. To Latvia’s credit they completely reinvented themselves in the Supernova Era, usually resulting in bold entries (and Carousel).

If "Love injected” was the earthquake that shook Latvia AWAKE with her experimental masterpieces, then "Heartbeat” is the aftershock, providing the same avant garde novelty, but not as impactful with a lesser impact.

However, to recycle a phrase i’ve already used multiple times, a lesser Aminata is still fucking awesome. “Heartbeat” packs a massive emotional punch, being more aggressive and volatile than its predecessor, which... works out fine actually. Killer lines such as:

YOU’RE MY DESIRE AND MY PAIN BUT ALL THE BATTLES ARE IN VAIN YOU MEAN MORE THAN ANYTHING TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

need an emotionally intense delivery and Justs fucking GOES for it without any inhibitions for his own health and safety

and with every passing second

he gets more into the zone

right until the end, when he LOSES his voice and is reduced to panting an aspirated ”thank you”. 😍 If you’re going to sing about lost love, you’d better do it by also SCREAMING YOUR LUNGS OUT <3

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61. Hatari - “Hatrið mun sigra” Iceland 2019

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God I’ve been dreading this write-up. Not because of the Hatari stans (lol who is going to complain about getting ranked 61st out of 408), but can I do Hatari justice in print? Hatari weren’t as much as an entry as they were the fiery spirit of mischief, an existential manifestation of defiance, a gestalt of provocative resistance, all contained in the tiny package of two asshole hellraisers. Yes, assholes. You see, the one thing you NEED to understand before everything else is that Hatari’s poetic palestine shawl moment is one of grade A assholery. Pulling that at the last sec towards their hosts WAS a dick move and Hatari were fully aware of it. We MUST see this as a fact before we discuss anything else that is also Hatari-related.

However, that’s precisely the point? Provocation was the sensation that swept the icelandic nation and its idolization became Hatari’s vocation with dedication and its application in the humiliation and the vexation of the Israeli station in support of the Palestine civilization, leaving KAN in devastation after months of the rabid disorganization was a justification well worth the potential probation. In other words: GET REKT KAN SHIT HOSTS HOPE U GET BLACKLISTED LOLOL #Hatredwon 😈 😈.

ps: still getting the Israelis to cheer for them despite being OPENLY pro-palestine when will ur faves.

~My reasons~ for ranking Hatari lower post-show are less grounded in the politics (again, they were jerks but... that’s also the entire point of sending Hatari lmfao) and more determined by the actual live performance: I thought Klemens was underwhelming and his parts of “Hatrið mun sigra” were also the fave bits. 😭 On the flipside I thought Matthias was excellent (when he didn’t miss his cue) and I legit laugh out loud each time I see his hilarious OTT facial expressions.

What a justified use of guyliner <3 The act was yet again a diabolically brilliant clanging of chains, bashing of mallets, grinding of gears, steaming of punk, a satanic cirque du soleil come to rain justice and brimstone down on our hopeless souls. Hatari were the anti-heroes we needed and don’t deserve.

ps: i hope i will ever find someone who loves me as much as Klemens loves Teresa May.

Iceland’s chart looks much better than I thought it would, but the averages actually put them somewhere in the middle on average. Iceland are always hit-or-miss for me, much moreso in the 2010s than in any other decade and it’s largely down to them failing to pick the best available option because, you know, BadTastitis.

the next update... will be the FINAL one in this shade of green :o Yes, we are about to move on to the highest, upperest, bestest tier of Eurovision entries. The mind-blowingly amazing entries that are not off this fucking world. Find out who makes the cut and who doesn’t TOMORROW :o

#Eurovision #Eurovision Song Contest #Iceland #Latvia #Belarus #Finland #Germany #Hatari #Hatrid mun sigra #Justs Sirmais #Heartbeat #Litesound #We are the heroes #Softengine #Something better #Michael Schulte #You let me walk alone

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zoocross0vers · 6 years ago

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Plea to the Zootopia/WildeHopps Community: (Borba)

I really, REALLY hate to bring any attention to this but I just really feel like I have to. For those of you who know and for those of you who don’t know a certain comic made by the person on the title of this post, has finally ended. But...This particular person has not surprisingly announced a third comic. One that I believe may be titled, “Never Say Die” (At least I think that’s what it is, I don’t remember, nor do I care to correct it if I’m wrong).

Anyway my point to this is really to reach out to those of you out there that still have plans to read it, share it, and have hope that Borbleh may actually decide to have a happy WildeHopps ending to it.

Everyone is free to do as they wish of course, but I do ask everyone to at least please hear me out. Please don’t share or even give any further attention to that comic series, or Borba even. He is not going to change his mind. If you still believe that he is a WildeHopps shipper...he’s not. He probably was at some point, but the minute he made that first comic and received hate and practically banishment from this community, he stopped being for the ship. I say this as a REAL WildeHopps shipper. I and I know many of you, if not most of you as WildeHopps shippers, wouldn’t ever think of making a comic like this. Much less a follow up to it like the one he made. My main reason personally is because when I love something I’m actually faithful to it and I wouldn’t butcher it for likes, views, or scandalous attention.

Just because he releases “WildeHopps” art every once in a while, like that Breakfast at Tiffany’s one that was circling sometime late last year, that isn’t reason enough to have hope for this new comic that will come out. He does this as bait so people think that he’s going to change his mind and give everyone the “beautiful WildeHopps” ending that we’re all hoping for. You know, because deep down he’s really a “WildeHopps” shipper. Nope.

If you’re asking how I know this? It’s obvious, didn’t anyone notice that in his journal entry on Deviantart prior to “Born to be Borbleh” (sorry, but I don’t care to give dignity to these titles) he never once displayed any sort of regret, remorse, or even understanding toward the community regarding the negative impact the comic had? He never once said: “I’m sorry”, “I apologize for upsetting some of you”, “I understand why some of you were upset”, etc. He never once showed any sort of concern for anyone but himself. Also, what kind of “WildeHopps” shipper ends their comic (where Nick and Judy don’t end up together) with “I just love happy endings!” (He’s really subtle about throwing it in everyone’s faces isn’t he?)

This is revenge people. Don’t be fooled by this guy. The third comic is going to be worse if this second one is anything to go by. I can very easily make a wild guess that it’ll probably be July (I know I spelled that wrong. I’m not referring to that heartless abomination he made as Judy, because that’s NOT Judy) and her girlfriend wanting to get pregnant by getting sperm from a sperm bank (you know, because she’s her actual “true love” and not Nick. Again, a “WildeHopps” shipper wrote this, is it obvious? smh) and then maybe there’s complications and then July’s going to have a hollow enough heart to say “Never say die” to that kid’s survival. You know, like the way she didn’t have any care or concern for Mick’s (you know who I’m referring to here) kid. And then Mick’s going to commit suicide while all this is going on or suddenly have a new sexual appetite as well. Really the third one will be any other thing you can think of that’ll butcher them or tear them apart even more so than they already are.

But anyway getting back to my point, I can give several reasons why this is actually a revenge ploy on Borba’s part. 1) he made the first comic and people hated him for it. 2) he was barraged with dozens of comments to make a second comic to correct things between July and Mick. 3) It was discovered that he had made some unsavory art work depicting lesbian women in a negative light. Put that all together and what did he do??? He gave us exactly what we “wanted”. He gave us a second comic, where he had a lesbian couple have a ”happy” ending, meanwhile “correcting” things between Mick and July by having them drift apart even further rather than having them come back closer as we actually wanted. See the pattern here? He just went opposite of everything his fan base wanted. We wanted Mick and July to get back together, did it happen? Nope. We wanted July to keep the baby, did she? Nope. That kid’s dead, buried, and forgotten like day old garbage.

He’s mocking everyone. Whatever you ask for, he’s going to do the opposite just to spite you. But first he’s going to fill you with false hope with a “WildeHopps” drawing. Is this really someone who’s work you want to support? Just because it looks nicely drawn? Is curiosity really worth more than your dignity?

This man is a sociopath that borders on a psycopathic mentality. I’m not even joking or trolling with this statement. I’m honestly concerned that we’ve accidentally stumbled upon an artist with psycopathic tendencies. I honestly don’t know of any other type of person who gains so much joy out of people’s misery, which is exactly what he does. He’s patient, conceited, manipulative (as is evident with his bait art work depicting good WildeHopps art), deceitful, calculative, vengeful, and toys with people’s emotions. If this doesn’t sound like a sociopath bordering on psychopath then I don’t know what does. Don’t quote me on this, because I don’t know the man, but this side of his that he has revealed to people more recently is very concerning.

Anyway, this comic made me feel sick and I personally want to know absolutely nothing of his ongoing series nor about him. Despite my better judgement, I did see where he went with his 2nd comic (even though all the red flags were there) and I was not wrong. He’s completely butchered Nick and Judy’s loving natures and names. And I refuse to give any more chances to someone who is sick enough in the head to take great joy in harming others, even if it is over a silly kid’s movie or comic.

As I said before, I can’t control what you see and don’t see. If you want to see it, then so be it. But I do ask you to please not share it. Don’t give him attention, because in that sense he’s winning, because he’s getting the best of you and this community. This is not how you deal with a bully because giving them attention just fuels them even more. And honestly, at the point this comic is at: Do any of you really care anymore if July and Mick get back together? I’m a WildeHopps shipper through and through (hell, I’m a purist, meaning I don’t share anything where they’re with someone else), but this is actually the first bit of work where I could care less what happens to them. They could fall into a vortex or die a horrible death in the comic for all I care. Because they are completely unforgivable and just so out of character that it really feels like it’s not even Nick and Judy I’m looking at anymore. This is a toxic relationship being depicted by two characters who would NEVER be toxic to one another given the actual source material. In real life, July is the type of person no one would ever want to be with.

More so because she’s written by a guy who clearly has no idea what love is. He took what was beautiful about Nick and Judy’s relationship, which is that Judy is the light in Nick’s otherwise dark past. She saved him from his own personal demons, she gave him a reason to fight and believe in himself. And he in turn proved to be the first person to ever believe in her and give her the support and faith in her dreams that no one, not even her parents ever gave her. And what did Borbleh do? He took it and made this wonderful bunny character as Mick’s worst nightmare that single handedly broke down everything the real Judy worked so hard to build. So forgive my foul language but: FUCK BORBA!

(Oh, and if you’re one of those people that are like: “yeah but July’s girlfriend supports her and her choices, cuz strong woman power!” Spare me that crap. I’m a woman and a career girl, but I am not betraying my maternal instincts for a job and this bad sort of feminism. Real Feminism is about equality, not throwing male characters down and stepping on them and falsely believing that this is empowering. A man who supports you and wants to be a father is a God sent. And again, Nick supports Judy’s desire to work and Judy cares about others more than her job. I refer you to the movie when Nick stands up to chief Bogo and when Judy GAVE UP HER CAREER for Nick. Sha-sha (the vixen) is just a controversial tool in this comic to start another controversy. The only thing that vixen supports more than Mick in this comic is that she’s submissive enough to put up with July’s heartless overbearing and dominating attitude.)

After this post, I don’t care how nice his art looks, I don’t care how “cute” a singular “WildeHopps” piece of his looks, I don’t care what horrible thing he does in the third comic, I don’t want to hear about it, see it or share it. Because Borba and his work were “Born to be Dead” if this is how he’s going to go about with continuing his work.

PS. Sorry for the rant, but I’m serious. Please boycott his comic. It won’t be worth it. You’ll be holding on to a non-existing hope if you still want to give him a chance. Save yourself (and the rest of us) the depression and blues, because I guarantee that’s all you’ll get from him and that comic series. By the way, sorry if I said anything controversial to some, but yeah, I’m pissed.

P.S.S. Why do we even give this comic so much attention? Let’s give this kind of attention (but positively of course) to the comics that deserve the attention and praise, like Sunderance, Savage Company, The Mark, and every other comic by true WildeHopps artists. Yeah, I know they have great attention already, but let’s give them more, because they remember why we’re all here for. For these two lovable characters:

#zootopia #forget borba #dead on arrival #comic #born to be dead #never say die #let's say die to never say die

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aznhedge-archive · 4 years ago

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Foundational: Never filter the data because you'll reach an unsuitable result. It's never within the interest of the people trying to solve a long-term problems to lie to themselves. If someone is trying to "lie" to you while claiming to want to solve your problems; you need a question their motives and whose interest they truly have in mind.

Hard, uncomfortable discussions has always been a strength of aznidentity. This sub should be wary of tone-policing and watering down certain views and discussions just because some might get offended.: aznidentity

https://www.reddit.com/r/aznidentity/comments/mf8yt7/hard_uncomfortable_discussions_has_always_been_a/

Excellent post:

"This time period is going to be crucial in terms of attempting to finally get some real change going.

IMO, there is always the possibility, the danger of a sub downgrading in quality due to diluting important messages or even culling certain viewpoints altogether because an increasing amount of readers were complaining about them, even when they shouldn't.

I guess I'll get to the point - there has been a lot of new people coming here to see what's up. Welcome. However (and a lot of you are probs aware of this) there's also bound to be more than a few people from different backgrounds popping in with ill intentions that are interested in trying to dictate the narrative, subtly and slowly but surely twisting things here and there, telling people here how we should be allowed or not allowed to do or say this and that.

Let me tell it to you straight:

Yes there are good white people, but there is still an obscene amount of them who casually disrespect or even outright despise Asians, who either refuse to acknowledge their privilege or revel in it, try to co-opt and control Asian subs like the mess at r/ china or r/ korea, who conflate every Asian with muh CCP, ostracize and shun Asians in social and work life yet play all innocent and pretend they're not complicit in this situation. Every now and then, one might even go on a killing spree....

Yes there are good black people who are devoted to solidarity, but there is still an obscene amount of them who violently attack random Asians in the street whose only crime was existing, who taunt and bully Asians, who deflect and stay in denial in every other comments section related to an Asian hate crime, who will never shut up about some Chinese or Korean dudes who were mean to Africans in Asia but stay silent about the riots that harmed Asian businesses and the numerous times that both Africans and black people in America assaulted Asians.

Yes not all AF dating white people are unwoke, yes there are plenty of good Asian women, but there is still an obscene amount of them who publicly put down AM, who openly worship white people on social media, who say AM are the 'weak link' for dubious reasons, who bizarrely blame AM for the sins of extreme white men (see Elliot Rodger or the weird accusations at Andrew Yang), who keep trying to silence this conversation or, frustratingly, denying this problem exists and telling AM who's experienced these toxic people to be a good boy and shut up. Not all AM send nasty PMs to AF but there's tons of articles written about "evil Asian men" at times implicitly suggesting this is a rampant prevalent thing, yet we're not allowed to write articles or make videos about a not-tiny amount of AF who don't stop at rejecting AM but even slander Asian men to non-Asian friends and harass AMXF couples?

The "not all [ ]" argument that people (from various groups and demographics) keep throwing at Asians here and there is borderline patronizing. No one with two brain cells actually thinks every single _____ is anti-Asian, whoever uses and abuses that cliche more often than not is trying to nurse their hurt feelings, trying save their own hide and tone-police or gaslight conversations that need to be had, and (even if unintentionally) essentially covering up for those of their group that harm or contribute to harm against Asians. If your first instinct is to nag and say 'we're not ALL like that, I think you're just seeing things or exaggerating' and not 'I'm sorry, I sympathize for you, I will call those fuckers out when I have the chance', you're not fully or truly sympathetic. It's like the "not all men" stuff when women are trying to talk about sexual assault issues.

If you happen to be offended by any of this, go somewhere else cuz this ain't a safe space buddy!

I hope this sub can,

find a way/ continue to smartly and productively criticize anti-Asian people FROM ANY GROUP, without giving genuine racists/ misogynists/ anti-semites/ homophobes etc. (who are a stark minority, don't give the outside slanderers and detractors the upper hand on this one guys) any more of the leading voice or power than the haters of BTS in the past did

still keep in mind that many POCs are not only racist against Asians, but will also never change their minds, ignore what subs like this say, and continue to be anti-Asian. Preach unity all you want, but when any POC group is making a toxic Asian "joke" or planning to go on some assaulting campaign for shits and giggles, we must not go any easier on them than we do on white people.

You NEED to understand: Asian men in particular have been forced into a unique, unenviable position in society, and as a result, there are still not many spaces like this sub where AM can vent their pent up frustrations about their lot in life and all the prejudices and double standards. Don't take this away from AM too.

still remember that the toxic attributes and widespread impact and ramifications of many (not all) WMAFs is still worth discussing and calling out. Never forget that there is such a thing as a false equivalency, do 👏 not 👏 fall 👏 for the disingenuous types who cherry pick certain AMXFs that are cringeworthy and play 'whataboutism', the types whose main goal is to downplay this ugly phenomenon and brush countless events and stories under the rug out of embarrassment, trying to manipulatively point fingers and say "no YOU'RE the one who needs to explain yourself AM scum!" Taking the heat off of this very real problematic dynamic is exactly what they want. Never be fooled.

One of the best things about this sub has always been its ability to have controversial and 'offensive' conversations about taboo topics (read: black on asian crime) that boba liberals tend to pussy away from. While it's wise to avoid going to the extreme end, and to not completely alienate white people/ black people/ AF/ hapas and so on, the last thing we need, especially in this age when awareness about Asian struggles is more mainstream than ever, is for there to be so much neutering on r/ aznidentity that it ends up looking like r/ AsianAmericanChannel on many fronts."

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rhondaadorno · 4 years ago

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Double Consciousness

“One ever feels his twoness, -- an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.” ― W.E.B. DuBois, The Souls of Black Folk

For many years, I’ve dodged commitment to the identity of a writer because I’ve been afraid of the backlash that would come with my words. I tend to have an out-of-body experience when I put words on paper. They become 3D powerful images, a kind of synesthesia occurs, and arrows whistle towards a target...and there are always casualties.

So, I stopped writing, avoiding opinion articles, blogs like this one, essays, controversial FB posts, because, if people actually read what I had to say beyond the armor of poetry or a creative piece, they’d feel quite different about me as a black female. And I couldn’t risk that.

2.5 Words

I’ve been conscious of myself as a black female since the third grade. Once, I had forgotten something on the PE field, and while walking back to get it, a little boy, on the other side of a fenced in playground, yelled out to me, “you're black.”

2.5 words without an ounce of hostility or error in them.

He didn’t taunt or provoke me, but when I got back to the car, I just remember feeling... wrong. Not different, just faulty or wrong somehow.

I dreamed up a clever retort too late which was, “...black is a color in the crayon box.” I guess I’ve always been a creative and insightful thinker....

This boy was 6 or 7 years old, riding a schoolyard tricycle; I didn’t even know him.

Yet, after that non-hostile experience, I was terrified to walk by that playground again.

Remember, he only vocalized his observation that I am indeed black. I still recall those sharp feelings I felt despite the words being true and true.

But I wonder why he believed it was his prerogative to point it out, to make me notice I was not the same skin color.

Safely Black

This experience was pretty much my introduction to learning I was black. Of course I knew I was not white, but I didn’t know that other people, especially kids, cared that I was not white. From there, it was being laughed at because I said “ax” instead of “ask.” One of my classmates saying, “ew, gross” because of the product in my hair, which was touched without permission. Years later, it was the shade of my knees, which are darker than the rest of my legs. Now, it’s trying to decide if I should purchase a wig for an interview or self-identify on a job application, never sure if my natural hair or shade of melanin will be the undisclosed reason behind “not the right fit.”

From K - 12th grade, I attended predominantly white, private Christian schools. Overt racism never happened to me. Yet, not once did I ever feel safe among my teachers and friends to be a black female... to fully explore what that even means. I was always hiding something.

Yes, I had meaningful friendships and positive experiences, but never as my self.

I feel that I have lived my life dressed up by a host of unsolicited tailors specializing in the way I speak, how I present myself, how I must act inside of stores, the opinions I voice, and the list goes on.

I have learned how to become invisible and nondescript so that I can be “safely” black.

And it’s been to my detriment.

An Angry Black Woman

Many people are feeling shocked by the recent events caught on video and shared via social media. Without me even mentioning the race of this little boy, it will be inferred that he was white. Because, even if some “don’t see color,” everyone knows that Asians, Hispanics, Native Americans, Caucasians, and every other group of people, have worked very hard to point out how we are not the same skin color, and somehow a lesser pedigree of human, for generations.

Until a few days ago, I had remained pretty quiet on the topic of racial injustice--always looking for ways to share my experiences, relate my double consciousness to friends, while not offending anyone.

But right now, black people are being threatened and murdered on live cameras by white people.

And for some reason, despite my coveted relationships with white friends, for several years, I have nursed a fear that it would damage something between us if I commented on any news story about race.

I’ve believed it would alter our friendship if I became a fist-raised Black Power advocate. It would make things awkward if I were to steadily post black injustice on my newsfeed. That, if I said I’m so angry that police are killing little boys and young men, I would be viewed as, wait for it, an angry black woman. Nevermind the truth that I feel wrecked from my core; I’d just rather not make any waves.

That’s what’s been on my mind. Not exclusively the horror of the murders I’ve been stockpiling in my conscious since a young girl, but the fact that I actually know people who would eventually wish I’d stop posting the “angry racist stuff,” and stop trying to “take us back to the past.”

Bullets of Truth

But this is my own mess, my own web of nonsense because I have cultivated and catered to this twisted sense of peace among all men when I shonuff’ know there ain’t been no peace cuz no cops are walkin’ around viewing my black brothers as men.

My shame is that I know I have denied myself and my friends the conversations about what it really means to be black in America BEFORE we were shown these awful attacks. It’s not like I didn’t know it was happening.

But I have been so afraid to put my bullets of truth out there--mainly because you learn, way back in elementary school, when you are black, you just don’t talk about being black with white people because they will somehow make it about how they feel wronged and attacked. You just lock up that door and know what you know.

Except, I can’t feel anything but sick lately-- like I have to projectile vomit my self up from the place I’ve swallowed my self to become fiercely black, once and for all, and unabashedly own what that little boy “accused” me of being.

To finally say out loud, ”No, I am not the whitest black friend you know.”

To shoot down, “You sound white on the phone.”

To reject, “You don’t act like other black people.”

To refuse, “You’re very articulate for a black person.”

To say, “I’m disinterested in being the official tour guide of Black History month” because to be honest, I am still trying to understand what it means to even be black.

Black in America

My mother’s hard decision for my life was to go the route of private education on the other side of town, or attend the public schools we were zoned for in a less desired part of town (by no fault of the town, because lines were redrawn on purpose.) The outcome was me, immersed in a homogenous environment where I got a pretty decent education, but striving to fit in, losing my cultural heritage, pride and identity in progressive stages to the point my mother actually asked me in high school did I want to be white. Whenever I spent time in the black community, I couldn’t quite find my foothold there either, because they too thought I was “trying” to be white.

I don’t regret her choice, but I, as a parent, now know what choosing the first one meant. There are times I am not sure who I am when it comes down to the spectrum of black identity, and it’s sad, confusing, and alienating.

And honestly, I, along with many in my community, don’t have enough moments of peace to experience true self-discovery, to nurture who that person really is.

As soon as we’re proud of Barack and Michelle Obama or overjoyed about the historical Black Panther film or inspired by the shocking legacy of Katherine Johnson or choose to kneel with Colin Kaepernick or feel paranoid by the Confederate flag or unified under the banner of #BlackLivesMatter -- a whole lot of people, including the president of the United States, feel it’s their prerogative to tell us who we are for us [re:thugs]--and that narrative is never, ever good.

We are constantly trying to push it out, fighting cops for our kids’ lives, warding off suspicions, navigating extreme violence and poverty in our own community, and trying to prove our value and worth for school and career, while raising our babies to be proud of their skin color, our beautiful brown babies, who, as soon as they graduate Kindergarten, will cease to become non-threatening.

By the way, we are processing all of this, while watching white people protest masks and quarantine with assault rifles. In 2014, Tamir Rice was shot dead for having a toy gun. He was 12.

Under the Radar

So, I’ve come to this point, feeling like it’s crazy and impossible that I’m literally living through some of the things in my mother’s lifetime, that I must raise my daughter with a keen awareness that not all people are treated equally, even when the Constitution declares we are.

That I must actually teach her that even though the “colored only” signs are gone, the stone place of men’s hearts from where the words originated still exist. And they will mean it and enforce it with all the boldness of the Jim Crow era, just under the radar.

I’ve been trying to understand why in the world I am being so affected by this now, so much that it alters my mood and impacts productivity, why I feel like I have to force myself to be positive and hope for change. Is this what it also means to be black? To stir up my ancestors’ concoction of will, determination, resilience, and sing my own kind of Negro spiritual, and march my way to freedom? No wonder they were so strong!

I am cognizant of the fact that there are many great white men and women who work in the armed forces, and in law enforcement to protect all people in America. And I know there are those have worked in the past to abolish laws and helped to enact civil liberties for people of color.

I also know that it took the braveness from the likes of Frederick Douglas and Harriet Tubman and W.E.B. Dubois to shed light on the black experience...so together these powerful people could push change forward with a vengeance.

I am nowhere near as proficient in elocution as they, but this is my piece. I’m finally saying something about what it means to be black in America, but I am also feeling like that’s not enough.

The White Wall

I have many friends who are parents and who are educators and who are the complex cocktail of both.

Black people have not ever wanted to educate their white friends about what this terror feels like, and honestly, we shouldn’t have to because-- internet.

But I am realizing, with my own education in a predominately white environment, I didn't learn anything from my teachers about me and my world.

Nothing truly existed beyond the white wall--white writers, white poets, white leaders, white composers, white heroes, and Martin Luther King Jr.

From K - 12th grade, what I learned about the realities of being black wasn't taught by teachers or textbooks. The little I did learn was by being in the midst of my community, and eventually reading and pursuing and chasing after knowledge.

Therefore, it’s positively unrealistic to imagine that white people know much at all about the black experience. And both public and private education do not place importance on real diversity. Now, with the visual horror of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd, I venture to believe, for many white people, these past few weeks have been pretty much earth shattering.

But why is knocking down this wall and learning about the black experience (and other races and ethnicities) important?

When a white person’s basic lifestyle is free from external conflict, the tendency is to want to live there and only there. Problematically, she will grow increasingly out of touch with the world beyond her (and perhaps surrounding her if people of color have come into her world). But she will fail to see the good and the bad, except for this: negative media will only show her the bad, and tell her how to think, and what to believe about everyone else who looks different than her, subliminally, judgmentally, until eventually she behaves in the audacious, debased manner of Amy Cooper, a white woman who knew what the fatal consequences would be for a black man if she simply called the police to say she was feeling threatened, and to have had the presence of mind to wield it like a weapon.

A Gaping Chasm

Learning about the black experience is important because Amy Cooper probably did not wake up believing she was a racist or even had a racist bone in her body. But she knew that she was white and he was not, and in her anger, decided to weaponize her whiteness by calling the police on a black man, which depending what “bad apple” was on duty, could have ended his life--too.

That is how it works. It doesn’t always end in loss of life, but always ends in loss of masculinity, loss of spirit, loss of soul, loss of faith, loss of trust; it just ends in loss.

When you don’t fight to change the system, you become part of the system.

So, unless (or until) a white family has been very intentional, they and their children are not learning about the black experience.

Even when teaching my child about the origins of America and the Civil War and Reconstruction, I had to be intentional, essentially going back to school because there are things that were blatantly omitted from my years of learning and were still being omitted for hers if I did not break out from the wall.

To put this in perspective, I was in college when I learned there were accomplished black leaders besides Martin Luther King Jr. and Rosa Parks. I was in my 30s when I heard black women and NASA in the same sentence together.

My mom had Black America encyclopedias, and she wore her Afro proudly with a fist in the air, but she trusted my education to the school system--the private, Christian school system, and they emptied out all of the other crayons in the box, and asked me (and my classmates) to only color with the white crayon.

So, for white families, between choice of schools, places of worship, and by not having or seeking out any predominately black cultural experiences, there is a gaping chasm between us.

One that I’d like to lay a log across for my part.

Gateway for Change

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a sucker for kids. I’ll bleed for them. I’ve spent the better years of my life surrounded by them. And from them, I’ve learned they are not afraid to learn something new when it’s presented to them in a digestible manner. I’ve been thinking a great deal about kids lately--my nephews and nieces, my former English students and chess kids, my friends’ children....They have heard the chatter, seen our reactions, and may have even seen the same videos on YouTube.

All of these kids, our kids, are being shaped by this society, and they will one day become adults who must interact and deal with each other politically, socially, emotionally, physically, spiritually, economically, and mentally.

So who is educating them? Who is explaining empathy and justice and teaching love and acceptance? One thing this virus has taught our nation is that parents are capable of teaching their children too. No matter how great your school system is, they are not going to teach your children about race relations with any consequence.

Education is the single most important gateway for change. Yes, there are people who will perpetuate ignorance regardless because they are blocked in by their incestuous beliefs, but for those who wish to break out of that crippling heritage or emerge from the silos of their communities -- with empathy and insight, you have to learn something new and share the wealth.

You have to know what’s being taught inside the homes of black families, multi-racial families, Arab families, Asian families, and most recently, the Navajo nation. Buy books with diverse characters by diverse authors --for yourself, your children, your students. Watch films with diverse casts. Find positive images and media that celebrate the success and vitality of black excellence.

Listen to the lessons and conversations we've been having amongst ourselves for generations and still teach today. White society is not a bad society. Black society is not a bad society. We are not going to see eye to eye on many many things, but we can agree that every life is valuable.

I do not represent every black person, nor does every black person hold my same views.

But absolutely, we do not live or experience life the same way as our white friends and family. This truth is not a victimhood or disadvantage we seek to revel in or exploit, nor does it devalue the privileges others know and experience. Within our own community, we definitely have very real problems to address, but right now, daily life should not be a mental obstacle course that’s filled with active minefields laid out for us everyday.

Lately, it just feels like no matter what we do or don’t do, the fatalities are adding up, and wicked people in this country are treating the taking of our lives like points in a video game.

As you think about these words, and listen to the stories of these young black men, who are being hit the hardest with racial injustice, dare greatly to share widely within your community.

youtube

“But we do not merely protest; we make renewed demand for freedom in that vast kingdom of the human spirit where freedom has ever had the right to dwell:the expressing of thought to unstuffed ears; the dreaming of dreams by untwisted souls.” ― W.E.B. DuBois

Pixabay photos used by permission. Video sourced by New York Times.

#blacklivesmatter #ahmaudarbery #george floyd

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noxrynne · 7 years ago

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i dont really have the highest hopes for making the goal i had for school odds are i fail a class, do poorly in another or two, and maybe get by decently in one of them i really regret doing online courses since it always goes back to “oh i missed that because it wasn’t posted,” “oh the professors don’t use the news alert system when new stuff is added with a concise explanation of what I need to do in that post blurb that’s 3500 words of bs,” “oh i didnt realize this awkward and uncomfortable ‘post your personal assignments here that are about yourself so a bunch of strangers can also read and criticize it’ was required,” “the syllabus is written out of order, it’s messy and has a bunch of color code usage that’s never explained and makes reading it harder and, oh, they want me to print it out too bad i dont have a fucking printer and looking at it makes me want to throw up since it’s literally just everything put up on a page and i just start panicking because its so much stuff and it immediately overwhelms me” i also fuckin hate the professors who’ll say like “if you’re here just to get a degree you’re in the wrong place” b/c it’s like college costs a lot of fuckin money and you can bet your ass the only reason im here is to get a degree so i can eventually have a job that lets me be financially stable. trying to say “oh it’s just for funtime education” is bullshit when it costs what it does and isn’t even accessible to everyone from the get-go. i could learn the exact same shit for free from a fucking library and the internet, and talk to people i know if i have questions about material. but that doesn’t give me the piece of paper i need. idk i wish there was more of a “oh i can go do this and be fine financially” rather than needing to spend years in a university because i really hate it. i *wish* i hadn’t fucked up before and been as suicidal and couldve got through it *before* its used as a “yea we can’t have you here cuz you dropped out in the past” *even when* it’s an associated school with the one i *did* drop out of and they told me they *would* re-accept me when i was healthier. no im not a great student. i get overwhelmed really easily, i stress out over everything too much, i break down if i miss one assignment. i dont do well on the shit i actually try really hard at. i dont participate in class because it’s a terrifying experience to be called a fucking “idiot” again by a professor (ty philosopher dickhead at uwgb im gonna fucking punch you if i ever see you) i *forget* about assignments a *lot* and *yes* that’s a *my* problem thing but it’s something so extremely difficult to work around without having someone telling me about it, or just having a visible schedule written down about what’s due on a front page that always pops up. which i mean yeah it’s extra work i guess for the professor to just copy paste some info that’d really help me out, and no i dont have this issue as much in a traditional school b/c i actually *go* to the classes to sit in and be reminded through that. and yea im probly gonna fail out unless the other university sighs and says “well she did try and it was online” and ngl i probably would be *fine* in a regular classroom oriented thing *now* it’s more organized and there’s a schedule i can keep to and get into and when i get *into* a schedule i stick to it 100% b/c i derive a sense of security, existence and safety from having schedules. but if i fail out and they dont sigh and say “okay” then im kinda fucked. i mean, i could probably attempt to get through another year there and maybe go to the actual school instead of the online bullshit and *maybe* then i’d actually meet the reqs. but idk if that offer is gonna stand after this year. and idk im just back to feeling really fucking hopeless and empty. i mean ive been feeling this way all this month. i feel like nothings fucking worth it because i feel like i just cant do it. and that ultimately im gonna end up fucked. and i *know* im 90% of the problem. i *know* my thinking of “what’s the point” is screwing me over. i *know* accidentally falling asleep an staying asleep for a whole day is a fucking issue. i *know* i shouldnt forget important shit i need to do. i *know* i should participate no matter how fucking uncomfortable and frightened it makes me. but it feels fucking *impossible* to work with 0 energy. it feels terrifying to be asked “write an introspective piece about yourself and reflect on the events of your life that made you who you are today” BECAUSE i dont talk about THAT STUFF to people I DONT KNOW i *BARELY* covered those topics in *therapy* because of how uncomfortable they make me. and I DONT need a bunch of strangers in a class knowing the shit that happened to me. and fuck i feel like the entire idea behind the writing assignment was “oh this’ll be fun haha” but it’s like... remembering *most of the shit hat directly impacted how i am today* is one of the most fucking difficult things for me to do, especially publicly. i *regret* online schooling. i didnt realize how much i dont work with it until i thought about it this year. i get overwhelmed. i get stressed. i get depressed. i get suicidal. i get hopeless. i feel useless. i didnt realize i *need* to actually *go* to a class because it helps with the isolation i put myself in. because i straight up actually understand shit when someone is actually explaining it to me and not just handing me a textbook and saying “read it that’s it that’s the entire class, but oh, write an informed paper structured off what you read and if you dont understand the material well go fuck yourself i guess.” and in actually *going* there to a physical room it becomes easier to do things like homework and assignments *because i can walk over to the library*. what *really* shit on my previous school ability was like i was overwhelmed (we *just* moved to a *completely* different state and environment, i *just* had a series of panic attacks in italy b/c i thought i could handle it on my own) and the first school didn’t have a/c and it was fucking 101 outside every day and i dont do well in heat, and by that, i mean i hyperventilate, i get dizzy, i get lightheaded, i get emotional and frightened and stressed and cant sleep. the professor who asked if we read the chapter (I DID) and then pointed at me to explain what i read (I DIDNT FUCKING UNDERSTAND IT), and when i finished he just laughed and told me to sit down and pretty much called me an idiot in front of everyone and i started crying. (i also got a 0 so i failed the reading since he didnt believe i read it). at *that* school there were no therapy or counseling or offers like that. the art building made me cry and feel unsafe (i couldnt control it), having to walk *all* the way back to my dorm building at 12AM b/c that’s when my one class ended was *terrifying* then in a different school it was just i had a class that made me physically uncomfortable to be in. i *hated* being in the freshman course for feminism so much. not b/c i hate the material, but i felt so “other” and uncomfortable b/c im a trans woman being asked about my male perspective on shit and i just. i remember leaving because i just felt upset and depressed and i couldn’t get over the really bad dysphoria i kept having in that class (the professor there was the reason i went to counseling on campus, she’s the one who referred me to it in the first place). on top of that, the dorm i was told id be getting was a fucking lie. i was supposed to have one or 0 roommates. i got 5 roommates. beds didn’t fit me b/c of my height (i slept with the back of my feet on an iron bar). the food was straight fucking garbage. one of my roommates just randomly touched me all the time. hugged me, put arms around my neck, *kissed my cheek*. another was always drunk and loud. another talked about making bombs incessantly. one of them seemed actually concerned about me and he came in once or twice when i was face down on my bed just not moving b/c of therapy sessions and talked to me once or twice to make sure i was still alive. friday mornings in winter id be up at 5AM, trying to get ready without waking any of the 5 other people, then walk outside with no access to breakfast/coffee/anything (b/c too early) to get to a class across and off the campus i had to walk to (and when snow was present my feet were numb b/c of all the water that got into my shoes). and then there was the legit getting 4 hours of sleep if that a week. eating basically nothing. extremely suicidal and getting to the point where i was having days where i legitimately could not discern what was real and wasn’t. and then i left ‘cuz my other option was to be hospitalized. from there its just been attempts at online schools. which i already tiraded about above. i mean fuck id be happy if i *could* just go work in retail and make a decent wage and not have to work every waking hour of my life to make it work. like. i *wish* i was lucky enough to be one of those “i had no degree but x really liked my resume” stories i always read about. i *wish* writing and publishing a book was considered and *was* a viable career option without needing to get really fucking lucky. im passionate about writing fiction, but in order to do that professionally, i need a 4 year degree from an institution. i can technically publish something, but if no one ever hears about it or cares, then it doesn’t become a job to have and it does little else. and then there’s also just a lot of irl shit i keep worrying about and dwelling on and nearly making some really fucked up or stupid decisions in the interim. and idk i just i wish i was one of those ppl who felt like they had a future and aren’t likely to die before age 25. or one of those people who just *does* something and it works out and they get to exist.

#its just a long rant i felt like i needed to get out

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duchess-of-weirdness-blog · 7 years ago

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The last time I pour my heart out.

The last time I pour my heart to another human being was today. If you refer to my post right before this one you will be caught up to speed.

I didn’t want to risk something so real ( or what I felt was real) turned out to be a lie. I wrote everything I could to try to ask this guy to think for himself. Going into a marriage with someone you don’t even know and will never love? Sounds sounds absurd to me. I was in a place were we became best friends just the distance killed us. I planned to meet him next month. He dropped a bomb on me… below I’m sharing the long text letter that I sent him. I am sharing this becuase my pain might help someone else not to make the same mistake. Don’t long distance date. If you are interracially dating please make sure you are not with a coward. Make sure that you are with someone who would stand up to every system.. every person to fight for you like you would do for them. Everyone is not that strong and will use you for their selfish needs.

( my open heart below )

Sourabh… Please only read this when you are alone…

This is some of the worst pain that I ever felt. I was so open and honest with you from the beginning about everything. I feel like everything you ever said to me was a lie. I understand that we are in two different places. I also know it’s a new world how can you follow old traditional views.. that you told me you didn’t even follow. What we had was so genuine and real. I know if we could have met up things would be different. Not knowing if we could have been something more is what feels like it’s killing me inside. I couldn’t even sleep… I couldn’t eat. Just like trying to keep busy working on my projects.. it’s crazy how if I got to send a message you pop up first because you were my most contacted person. You went from telling me good morning everyday to just silently leaving me. I’m writing a lot because writing is like my therapy and I gotta get it all out. It is possible to survive in this world with two totally different people. You don’t have to be the same ethnicity or religion to really love someone. 😑 love is love or like.. whatever and it should happen naturally not forced.. Not because someone said. We talked about this so I really feel like this hurt was done on purpose. You did everything to heal my heart just to break it again. That’s the most fucked up shit I ever felt in my life bro… Then you tell me to give you time like there’s even a chance of hope for me and you. I know that there isn’t any hope. I never got to hug you talk to you.. or do any of that fun stuff like showing you around California and going to concerts like we talked about. I hate when I get a message on whatsapp now because it’s never you. How could you call someone your best friend and just abandon them & their emotions? Trust me I know how important family is and how they can have a influence on you. You should man up and do what you really want to do. I really wish we could have met in person. It’s different.. like if we would have met & it didn’t work out fine… but now it’s like we never got the chance to try… I can’t go from having all these feelings for you to going into the friend zone. If I’m taking the time to write all this and get everything in the open I hope that you can see how much I really did care. My emotions don’t lie… I felt it so strong and asked you if there was someone else… you just asked me why I always thought so negative. It wasn’t that I was thinking negatively I was thinking the truth. You just lied to me in my fucking face… and then tell me I can’t text you in a loving way for some bitch you never even met or talked to…. That’s crazy we chose each other. That should mean something… you can’t just block someone special out your life. You have to fight for them. You only get one life and you have to fight for the things you want. Me writing this is my way of fighting… although I know this is a war that I’ve already lost. Fuck all the stress and these terrible feelings that I feel… I wish we could just run away and spend some quality time with no labels and no pressure just doing fun stuff together. There is a long life ahead there’s no need to rush into marriage or any situation just because someone else thinks its best. Don’t get all scared thinking someone else will see this… I wouldn’t care if the world saw this message because it’s something so pure and just heartfelt. We live in a world where everyone is just out for self gain… All I wanted to gain was maybe my best friend falling in love with me.. now I’ll never know. I only tried to start my old job back while I was still feeling sick just to meet you in person. I know I’ll have to let it go for my own health.. my blood pressure got really high crying and just thinking about you… crying the whole time that I type this. Remember the guy that I told you that u reminded me of? Hassan ? That comedian… it’s crazy because in his show that I love so much… he almost lost his wife because his dad tried to change his mind… but his sister stepped in and told him to follow his heart.. they’re both two different religions and the odds were stacked against them. But they just followed their hearts.. Follow your heart even if your heart doesn’t lead you to me.. listen to your heart because your brain just tells you everything that won’t work.. but your heart tells you everything that will work. Trust me I’m not trying to steal you away from your family or friends. Everyone can exist together.. I have no idea what’s going on in your mind… I know I’m probably not even on your mind because my texts are just empty… I can’t just sit around while you try to get to know someone else…. 😑😑😑 I was really trying to spend your birthday with you & party like we talked about. Ughhh Why did I believe it? I’m so fucking stupid.. but people are only stupid for people they really care about. I swear this is the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to write because it’s a goodbye before a beginning. It’s like the end to something so natural and pure.. We are so different yet so much the same. I know love probably isn’t in the forecast for me. I just hope you’re happy… and just know that some people really have stronger feelings than others. Like don’t fuck with someone’s emotions especially when they were so open with you about being hurt before. It really feels like that lady gaga song bad romance. I know I could never be your friend. I can’t watch the guy I wanted so bad growing to love someone else. It’s not fair for me to get online and just see that I don’t have a message from you. Do you realize that we talked everyday? That meant something to me. I know now that it didn’t mean anything to you. I don’t normally make that much time for men. I’m not just anybody… like I actually do shit.. I know u met me when I got sick but I’m a boss.. I really wanted to do business with you and make money. Do you know how epic that could have been? My connections in the USA! Your connections in India.. that could have really been some power couple type of shit. Espically when my app drops.. wow I know this is long but I feel like it will probably be the last thing that I get to say to you. Although I wish things would go my way & you would just be like nooo I choose u haha but deep down I know because I felt you disconnect from me… I felt it when I asked you & u just lied to me & said you were dating the gym lol remember that?

It sucks cuz I’ve been going to work on my projects sick.. of course I’m not gonna blame all my stress on you… but of course losing you hurts a lot. In a perfect world of course I wish you would just be like I choose you! We could just explore and travel u show me india I show u California and we go on different adventures together…. but this isn’t a perfect world is it? 😓 I know.. life changes but I didn’t think it would change this fast. Lol I told you how I’m writing scripts all the time well now at least you get to see something besides short texts lol I do want to say thank you for the times when I was really sick you motivated me got me in the gym. These past few days I haven’t eaten meat & I’m gonna stay that way now. I hope I had or have some kind of impact on you also. I also want you to know that it’s okay to interracially date. It’s so beautiful to be with someone who is not exactly the same as you. You have to be a very brave person to do that.. because the world will judge you! They will hate it but I feel like for something real it’s worth it. I don’t know where you stand with all that we never really talked about it. Mostly that’s what it boils down to tho in this world.

I’m still a virgin so I don’t have much experience… but I do know if I ever have kids I want them to find true love on their own and I’ll love them enough to respect their choice no matter what it is. I honestly didn’t know things like what you’re going through is still happening in 2017! Fuck I feel like I’m saying last words at a funeral or something.. but the truth is life goes on… I can’t lie I’m gonna miss you so fucking much. I hope you think of me some time. I will tell you this… she can never care about you or love you the way I did.. It won’t ever be real.. she’s just going along with some bullshit plan and tradition so she can have a life and be taken care of.. it won’t ever be real love.. your future kids none of that shit will be made out of real love… one day you’ll regret not standing up for yourself and being your own man.

That’s what I’ve been learning how to stand up for myself and say how I really feel. I had a crazy business meeting today and I stood up and told everyone the truth! That they were full of shit and it was beautiful. Lol I probably would have been texting you all about it haha.. but anyway I won’t.. I will say that I’m sorry for opening up to you so much… I’m sorry for trusting the things you said.. because I just opened myself up for this pain… I won’t be open with anyone else like that ever again.. I’m learning to protect my feelings.. I’m growing and learning but I know one day I will get there. I just have so many questions did your family find oit you were talking to a black girl and get mad? Or did u know this was happening all along? Why would you meet new people if you knew you were trapped in a traditional world? I hope you set yourself free. I wish I had no feelings I swear😑 I’m mad I feel so used… I know you technically weren’t mine but u knew I was gonna meet u and we would have been together… I can still pick up on your vibes.. just like when you lied I felt it.. I can feel when u think about me… I can feel when you just ignore the feeling and do nothing about it.. We talked everyday… now this.. I’m not even good enough for a hello… With friends like this I definitely don’t need any enemies. Sadly coming to the end of writing this I feel like I wasted so much of my time. You won’t listen to a single thing I said because you’re blinded. I’m still gonna send this to you tho.. because I’m stupid and I always like trying one last time. I’m addicted to the feeling of heartbreak.. that shit has happened so many times until it feels good.. It’s like a high.. I knew that shit was coming. I should have never entertained you. You’ll probably just block me again or something and go on like I never existed. Idk… I’m so excused.. I think I said as much as I can say.. Sincerely the girl who actually never lied to you and valued you - Dawnn

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festfashions · 8 years ago

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DIY: Take Your Keyhole Halter Top to the Next Level

Do you love your keyhole halter top, but need some cute ideas to make it your own? Maybe you want to refresh one that you've worn a million times and turn it into a new look? This post is all about simple and inexpensive ways to take your keyhole halter top to the next level!

The keyhole halter is a staple of rave girl fashion. It comes in a multitude of colors and looks flattering on all body types. It's a great basic piece to use to start any look you're going for, and is the inspiration for this post. The keyhole halter tops can be purchased here, and are $20 from iHeartRaves. They come in every color you can imagine and are one size fits most.

I had seen some other shops selling keyhole halters with feathers or coin belts for upwards of $50, but thought, "hey I could do that..." so I wanted to put it to the test. It's definitely more fun creating your own top, and is much nicer to your wallet as well.

Purchasing Materials

To do some different looks, I went to Jo-Ann Fabrics and Michaels for items. Both stores were key as they offered me different things to choose from. The most important thing to remember though, is BOTH stores have weekly coupons available online! Both are almost always 40% off one regularly priced item, and are easily found by Google searching the shops name + coupon. You don't even have to sign up for anything to access these, just bring up the webpage for the clerk to scan.

At Jo-Anns, I bought trim (note they didn't call it ribbon) to use on the edges of my tops. The amount I asked for was 1/2 a yard when I wanted to do the top and the bottom of the halter, and a full yard for when I wanted to do the side lines. The measurement for the top is 4″ and the bottom is 9��. It's important to not take the trim along the length of the straps because you'll lose the stretch of it and it will be much more complicated to tie. It also won't look as neat when you've finished.

Line up to just the edges of the actual top, try not to go further into the strap. My Jo-Anns had a huge aisle of trim options. Prices ranged depending on the details on the trim, but because you're buying such a small amount you still won't be spending too much. I bought four different options of trim to play with, and my total was $12 before my coupon. That's four tops worth of trim for $12!

Same with the top piece, only use trim on the part that is actually the top. At Michaels, I shopped more for the jewels and beads for my tops. I was able to find a bunch of items on clearance that were super cute, plus I had my 40% off coupon for one of the items that wasn't on sale. I spent a total of $20 at Michaels, but have enough pieces to make four more tops.

So, between my two trips, I spent $30 on items to decorate with, which, if you end up doing this with your friends, turns out to be an even better deal. That way you share the cost if you want to buy a few items to mess around with. Or, if you're just doing your one top, you'll spend even less if you go shopping with a game plan.

Tips for Sewing

If you've never sewn something before, and don't have a grandma handy to help you out, don't fret! It's actually super easy to decorate your top. Here's some basic tips to follow, and you'll be off to a great start!

Tip 1: Make sure to use thread that is the same color as your top. This will make it look much more seamless, and hide any crazy stitching lines you might make (which I always do). Even when I did the purple boa, I still used the black thread as it was hidden by the feathers.

Tip 2: Sew from the back of the top. This means, after you tie your knot to your string, start from the back of the top so the knot will be hidden. In the same vain, something like the coin belt that has a trim you want hidden, sew that to the back of the top instead of the front.

Tip 3: Go over it again and again and again. You can make this easier by making the thread in your needle as thick as possible in the first place (instead of one thread). Then, go over the part you're sewing a few times, make close stitches, and loop through hoops a lot to make sure they're nice and stable.

Tip 4: If you're going to sew any jewels, or single beaded pieces, take the time to sew one, knot it then cut the thread and start again. Sewing each one individually will keep them secure, and make the top much cleaner if there's a lot of space in between each jewel. If the pieces are right next to each other, feel free to continue with the same thread.

Tip 5: If you're going to use gems, make sure to buy the ones with holes in them so you can sew them on. I have yet to find a fabric glue that will keep gems on an item of clothing through heat, sweat and dancing.

Some of My Designs

Adding trim to a top is probably one of the easiest ways to make your top unique. There's a plethora of options at Jo-Anns for this. Coin belts, pompoms, fringe, feathers, all colors, all combinations, all styles. Take a look, you'll be surprise at the amount of options. You can even layer these trims! I ended up layering the feather boa on top of the coin belt trim to add more color as you'll see in one of my designs below.

As far as adding the trim goes, there's a few ways you can do it. You can do the top and the bottom, the side hems, or, all the way around.

For the purple feather boa on the white top, I did just the top and the bottom. The feathers are fun cuz they feel so soft and fuzzy, and the come in super bright colors too. The feather boa was a little complicated to sew (be careful the feathers want to pull through the needle hole) but was totally worth it for the finished product. Just keep the boa a little far away from the thread when you're pulling it through the top. Only let it be pulled tight once the loop is almost to the top.

For the tiny daisies, I decided to use them on the side panels of the top. I think it would be cute to go back to the store and buy a matching pale peach boa to add to the top and the bottom of it for a little more fun.

Something like these daisy doesn't require lots of thick sewing either because they're so tiny. It did require purchasing double the amount of trim though (a yard), so keep that in mind.

The gypsy coin belt style is awesome, cause we all love body chains and dangly things on our outfits! The coin belt was super simple to attach. When you're working with a trim like this one, the bottom layer should go behind the top so only the coins dangled down. The top part though, I had to sew on the frontside of the top, so I just tried to make it a bit more neat looking than the back of the top was sewn.

From those deigns I started to then experiment with the keyhole in the top part of the halter. This seemed like the perfect spot to add something dangling down. I found a lot of (cheap cause they were on clearance) jewelry pieces as fun options to add to the center of the keyhole.

To make sure they don't fall off or loop around in a weird way, make sure to loop your thread through multiple times. You want this to be fastened tightly in place.

I also thought it would be fun to use a bunch of these to create your own pattern on a top...and that's when I started to get really crazy. I found these quartz-like stone beads and thought "why not". I used white string to match the top, and sewed them to the bottom. I mixed in some other jewelry accessories to make the top have a bit more color and flair. This probably turned out to be my favorite design.

You could again of course layer up, do a trim all the way around then add some more special beading. You can mix and match the pieces in so many ways!

Here's some other great ideas I didn't try, but you totally should!

Tie Dye (for a white top)

Bedazzle it! There's packs of jewels at Michel's for $4 (don't forget to use a 40% of coupon from their website). Make sure to buy the ones that have the little holes so you can sew them on. Fabric glue has a hard time holding on stretching material. It will take some time to do, but it will be much more worth it than the glue! Be sure to use a color of thread that matches the top you're sewing onto as well.

Kandi messages! The same way I sewed the green quartz-like beads, create some cute messages with kandi beads and sew them to the top of the halter or the bottom!

It's really amazing all the different styles you can make your top match with a little experimentation. Perhaps you want it more boho for Lightning in a Bottle, or more neon for EDC. Maybe you want to make it totally western for Coachella or jewel the heck out of it for Ultra. Whatever your style, let it shine through by making the top your own! You're bound to get tons of compliments! Then, at the end of the day, undo the threading and make the top new again if you want.

So gather your girlfriends, each buy a top and have a decorating party for your next rave! This is such a fun way to get everyone together and the squad bonding over a big event before it happens! If you style your own top, be sure to tag #iHRStyled on Instagram for a chance to be featured!

I styled my good friend and fitness guru Sydney Benner in the tops I designed to help get you inspired! Sydney is the creator of FLIGHT, an EDM inspired workout fusing high impact yoga, cardio dance, and functional fitness. It's literally the the class you've been waiting for to get that festival bod kickstarted! Hopefully our little photoshoot can inspire you to create your own fun looks! I'd love to see them!

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rheyareads · 6 years ago

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can’t sleep.

I can’t sleep.

Not surprising given my mind is running a mile a minute with thoughts and yet a bit surprising given the fact that I went to bed at 6:30 pm yesterday and slept through the night until work this morning.

I’m exhausted but I think my body is on its own schedule right now, so I suppose I’ll use the time I have wisely and try to process through some of this mile a minute thoughts (if only thinking burned calories, amirite?)

My last post had the highest views my blog has ever had. People seem to have a lot of thoughts about it and a lot have reached out to me in various ways to offer support, encouragement, advice, etc. and I appreciate all of the effort on everyone’s part. It means a lot to me. One of the biggest pieces of advice I continue to get is to go talk to someone so I suppose I will use this space here to address that in a broader context so that I don’t have to continue saying the same thing over and over again. So, here we go!

Honestly – I don’t want to.

I know that sounds like I’m being a brat but it’s true. Counseling is an intimate thing for me and I had the same counselor for 7 years while I was at Brockport and it took probably 4 years of me seeing her for me to actually trust her enough to show up consistently to work through my shit. Even after that, I would say 90% of our time together was me complaining. I’m a firm believer in counseling, I think it’s a beautiful thing, I encourage everyone to try it, and I know that it can be incredibly helpful. I literally became a counselor because I believed in it so much.

The problem is that in order for counseling to work you have to be willing to do that work, and I’m just not right now. I’m fucking exhausted. And honestly I’m sick of always having to go to counseling. I have gone for so much of my life because bad shit happens over and over and over and honestly I’m at the point where I’m just sick.of.it.

It seems like these two mindsets are conflicting, and they probably are, because HEY! I’m a gemini, that’s what we do – but in all seriousness, I don’t want to pay money to go talk to a counselor who is going to tell me things I already know and help me put together the puzzle behind why I’m feeling the way I am right now.

Let me break it down for you –

I have an incredibly deep rooted negative self-image, the product of childhood friendships that were toxic, an unhealthy and at times emotionally abusive relationship with my father, sexual assault, toxic relationships, medical issues, family trauma, medical trauma of my own and various other life events all wrapped up in a nice genetic predisposition for lack of serotonin production.

I have always felt this way about myself/my life/my achievements/my worth. I’m just usually a lot better at covering it up so that none of you worry about me and I don’t have to explain myself.

The problem is that I am utterly drained by grief right now, to the point where I am exhausting all of my energy just to get out of bed and go to work each day since losing my aunt. Thanks to a shitty guy, I was so wrapped up in bullshit when she died that I literally didn’t even mentally process her death and now I am slowly losing my mind at the thought of life without her. Because of this, I quite literally CANNOT keep up appearances and pretend that I love myself/have positive aspirations/believe I have a good future etc. I just can’t. I have no energy left to give to devote to that and so what the world is seeing is the full force of the inner thoughts I have had time and time and again for as long as I can remember.

I am not kidding when I tell you I do not remember a time when I loved myself. I do not remember a time when I believed myself to be worthy of love. I do not remember a time when I thought myself worth anything.

What I remember are times when it didn’t consume me. Thanks to medication, I’m able to go about my life and not have this become something that runs my day to day in a full force way.

Right now, is not one of those times.

And I’m not saying I’ll never go back to counseling or that I don’t think it will work for me – I’m sure that I will at some point when I’m able to. But I’m saying right now I am fucking exhausted and sick and tired of feeling like this day in and day out and I don’t want to have to go to another doctor and pay another medical bill to hear all the ways in which my thinking is distorted. I know it is. I know it’s me. I know that ‘only I can change how I respond to situations’ or whatever but my god can’t I just get a break from it every now and again?

I feel like there’s more anger coming through than anything else when in reality I’m just tired. I’m fucking angry too, but I’m just exhausted and I can barely get up in the morning let alone “look for the positives”. It’s a lot easier to say to people than it actually is to do sometimes.

Maybe it seems dramatic to some of you. Maybe it feels like I just want attention (to those who think that I say a big fuck you) but the only reason I’m even talking about it online is because this is the only thing I have the energy to do right now. I know that if I started talking about it in person I would actually lose it and scare everyone even more and I don’t want that so this is my solution. I am not physically capable of crying and breaking down in front of people in person because the shame of that feeling may actually destroy me. It’s hard enough facing people in person who’ve read this. No one has to read this. No one has to say anything but at least I can get things out of my head and put somewhere for a time. This is my temporary fix.

While I’m being honest, I just want to say that I know – I know I need help. I know I could make small changes. I know that being depressing and negative gets me no where and attracts no one – I know. But it’s all the more frustrating when the rational side of who you are knows those things and the irrational side has taken over and you can’t stop yourself from feeling or thinking a certain way. I know that the way to catch a boyfriend isn’t by telling the world how crazy I am but at the same time, do I even want someone who doesn’t know who I really I am? cuz this is it. And it sucks even more when you know you’re letting everyone down while it happens, too.

I’m even questioning my faith which I know is upsetting like half the people in my life and would completely upset my aunt, but again – I can’t help it. How am I supposed to believe in an all powerful, healing God when I watched her faith remain strong and unyielding in every dark moment of suffering, just to watch her die in the end and not get the healing she’s promised? She spent her whole live devoted to God and what hope do I have if someone like her wasn’t able to beat cancer (or even got it in the first place).

On top of that – I just sit and think about how I have wasted SO . MUCH. TIME. Going to school for a career that literally threw me away when she was diagnosed. Spending years romanticizing a toxic relationship into something I believe resembled love when it was actually the complete opposite. Sacrificing my time and energy into all these things that just blew up in my face leaving me with nothing but time spent – all time I could have spent with my aunt.

Time I could have spent finding the right career that would have let me have balance or the right relationship that would have let me get married and have her officiate my wedding and see me walk down the aisle. Things that would let me get healthy enough to actually have a baby and have her with me in the delivery room to hold her the way she held me when I was born.

But I can’t go back. I can’t get any of that time back. And now she’s gone, and I am still alone. Still lost. Still depressed and still trying to make sense of what the hell it’s all supposed to mean. And I know that feeling this way and being this negative won’t further me to anything in the future – but I don’t even care right now. I can’t care. I have no energy left to care because it’s all spent. All of it.

I want to be the person everyone says they know I can be. But I honestly don’t know how. I appreciate everyone saying that I matter, or that I’ve left an impact on them somehow. It’s nice to hear. I think we don’t do enough of that until people are gone or hurting. We don’t tell them what they mean until it’s too late and I appreciate everyone who’s done that. I love you all so much and so deeply and I’m sorry that I’m not able to put that into words right now.

But I can’t pretend to not feel this way. I can’t pretend like I’m okay because I’m not. I can’t pretend like I want to go to a counselor because I don’t.

What I want, is to know what it feels like to be happy and not have to utilize medicine and therapy to get there for a change. What I want is to stop letting people down by feeling the way I do all the time. What I want is to sleep and wake up not feeling tired. What I want is to come home and have someone to share my life with. What I want is to have someone hug me and let me cry until I fall asleep and have that be okay.

Thanks for reading – Even when I don’t respond, I’m paying attention to what you say.

from WordPress https://rheyareads.wordpress.com/2019/04/10/cant-sleep/

#Uncategorized #advice #anxiety #body image #coping #depression #emotion #emotions #general nonsense

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ghostofsound · 6 years ago

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Rant that you should not read because I just have shit on my mind that I needed to write down, plus it’s over 3,000 words and somehow I wrote it in an hour when it takes me hours plural to write 1,000 word essays, but yeah it’s too long and not worth your time trust me

I just need a place to vent so please don’t read this cuz it’s basically stressed nonsense. I often find a correlation between my educational path, my romantic pursuits, and my journey to discover myself. These are all vital in the future of my life, with the whole life discovering shit being the primary objective. Who the fuck am I? Why am I here? What put me here? Why does, say, my trash can not have a soul coursing through it, yet I do? I did not do anything to earn this, nor have I done anything to prove I deserve it. I would argue I don’t but to judge my life off of 2 decades is equitable to judging a film by the first 20 minutes, which I have done so I guess I should stop doing both.

Our lives are consumption. I enjoy watching certain things, reading certain things, consuming certain things. Why do I enjoy these things? And why does my joy for certain things outcast me in specific settings? Why does it make me accepted in others? Why do I sometimes enjoy the outcast moniker, yet others it leads me to feeling unsatisfied and depressed? I don’t even know if depressed should be the word I use.

I think the main thing I want from my job is to aid others. That is the type of person I am. However, I have so many selfish moments in my life as well. There are certain things I do that get tail-ended by me saying “well hey, it doesn’t affect me”. What a dick. That’s me. That’s the person who wants to aid others. I feel like I want to steer others in the right track, but I can’t fucking steer anyone, shit, as if I had that amount of influence. I can’t influence myself, let alone another human with separate ideas and destinations. But what job would fit me other than teaching? It’s really perfect, because it is high class enough that I can have mentally stimulating conversations and thoughts on, at the least, a weekly basis. It is also low class enough that I do not feel constantly stressed that I will not be accepted by peers who are older or smarter (which often correlate in some fields). In my current job, I work with 24/25 year old people (most graduate students), whereas I am a couple years below that, AND I’m an undergrad, so I constantly feel a need to prove I am at their level of knowledge or effort, but why? What does that do for me? I go home equal amounts tired and stressed; it is not a stress-relieving activity nor gratifying enough to exert that energy. Anyway, I hate chasing down acceptance, but I also would not want to work with idiots (been there, done that) and constantly feel superior. I resent the superiority. I reject the inferiority. I reject so much, and I have no idea how much until the opportunity to reject is gone.

Relationships are fucked. Plain and simple. I feel like I constantly try to understand them, and different ones teach me different things. For example, when I dated a girl I barely knew and instantly realized she was crazy and somehow by my own mercy she moved and got married in Texas at the age of 20, that taught me to get to know people before pursuing anything with them. True story. I’ve only had one major relationship, which I think was such a terrible thing for that relationship. I never cheated, but there were times in my head I had “What if?”, because I knew I liked the girl I was dating so much that I got scared of being tied down. We had our ups and downs, and of course as I look back it becomes harder to remember the downs, and the ups just blare in my mind as if my head is screaming at me that I fucked up. Family members tell me I will be with this girl again, but at first I found that ignorant, as if they are so in denial they just say it will revert to the norm. Reverting to the norm will be brought back up in the next paragraph. But my family had a unique outside perspective that I did not earn until the relationship ended, which was a mutual decision. We both go to separate schools, and keeping up grades, social groups, work, mental health, etc., it leaves no room for a solid relationship. That leads me to thinking about if my life had a different course, one where those years are replaced with different experiences, and then this relationship happened after I have gotten an answer to “What if?”. If I enter a relationship with all the answers, can I still gain? And is that gain, and the place where I gained, all a comfort zone for me? This all relates to my theories of God, or lack thereof. The belief in God seems ignorant to me, but so does believing I end up wanting to be back with an old flame, yet here I am somewhat admitting to that desire. Do this relationship strive in different time periods? Was my gap of time between relationships just an essential element to mending this old flame? Or am I so absolutely stressed, so absolutely defeated by life’s onslaught, that I retreat. As if this old relationship is a dome in which I can retreat. For all I know they want nothing to do with me, and I don’t blame them. I was disconnected. We were moving through the motions. I didn’t know what I wanted, and honestly I still don’t. I keep thinking I want kindness, physical satisfaction, and care (which I purposefully distinguish as separate from kindness, because I myself feel moments where care is lost but I always strive to be kind). However, is that really what I want? Our relationship felt like constant chaos, it made me feel anxious, it kept me on my toes. Hell, maybe I want the chaos. It seemed like a big portion of what did not work was how alike we were, to the point where it was actually an issue. There was an aspect where I needed to be the opposite, but I could not fulfill that. I know it appeared as a lack of trying, but it was not. It was simply a lack of skill to become what was desired. But looking back, and seeing who I am, I think I could make it work. I don’t know if you will find someone who is willing, and you probably think I am in the pile of those who aren’t, but I am in the pile that can, and now, shit, I may want to. It’s getting late, I am maximum stressed, I have made decisions that I cannot go back on. I have had three moments of rapid depression, where it all just hits and I begin to cry and say “why?” and “what the fuck?”, which I don’t get around to answering, mainly because I do not know the answer. And all this could be a reaction to knowing you have moved on and perhaps even had physical interaction with other people. That is fine, it is not my business, and I have too so it would be hypocritical. But it’s odd that that was the moment I realized the relationship had ended. The actual ending did not impact me as much other than one of those quick breakdowns, but realizing there may be no going back, that hit me the hardest. All weekend this has been in my mind, hence the longer rant on it, but what has been in my mind the most has been the ups of what we had, the moments you made me genuinely happy, the times I felt I could be myself around you, my real self, the one I hide almost always; that self came out around you. I feel a weight, and I don’t know what to do. I have someone I have been talking to but as it goes on I can see myself slipping into routine, a routine that was not developed when I met her, nor when I met you, but both relationships have their routine. Do I really hate the routine? I mean, right now I’m basically clamoring for the routine with you to return, why? And routine just leads to lack of fulfillment, which leads to a mutual breakup, hence ours. I am failing to see what I want, and this whole routine discussion blurs that line even further. I’ve thought about openly sharing my thoughts on what went wrong, or times I could have been better, but that fails to accomplish anything besides relief that it is off my chest, and when that is all I got left of that relationship, I want it on my chest. You were better at explaining what was going wrong, I was always quiet, and in most cases it was blindness, not silence. I was not quiet because I didn’t want to assert a grievance, I was because I did not even see the grievance existed. For what it is worth, and to just get it out there because nobody will read this rant fest that at this point has gone on for too long (reminds me of that Drake and Josh where he yells at the harp player to stop playing, but I digress), I want to write that absence has indeed made the heart grow fonder. I look at the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: I mean just read that sentence. It’s equal to the notion that ignorance is bliss. I wish I had an empty mind, moreover I wish you did. What if we met up for the first time post-educational pursuits. We both are working in the jobs we set out to work in, and we both have had experiences with different people. The absence of purity does not drive me away. I have been searching for an answer and to think I may have overlooked it has caused this rant (along with other things). Last thing I have to say is that you and I were special, and I don’t even know if I should be in a relationship, that’s how messed up I am.

I am. But why? Why am I? I have been questioning my existence for a long time. I had many nights when I was young where I cried myself to sleep trying to grasp the concept of forever, or trying to understand the afterlife, or searching for my purpose in life. This was at like, 10 years old, and I don’t say that in an attempt to sound impressive, I say that to display how frazzled my brain has always been. The materialistic knowledge like quotes from movies, or which team won three weeks ago, or how to correctly use grammar, they all feel so pointless to me when I enter the realm of discovering my existence. At the beginning of this year I told myself to decide on my stance on religion. I stood as an agnostic, but felt that was a cop out. I later sat down and truly thought about where my religious beliefs lie. In one case, there’s science. I love science because it is purely facts, but this is also why I hate science. I love English because everything is (I am really sorry for this pun) an open book, but that is also why I question my love for English. When deciding on arguments, I lean towards the facts, but the movies and books that interest me the most are the ones with numerous interpretations. I guess my love for interpretations lies with knowing how a certain aspect of one’s life coincides with the material they’re experiencing. I hate to bring this back to my breakup with my only real relationship, but after that I watched one film and read one poem, and they both changed my thought process on relationships momentarily. The film was Annie Hall, and the poem was I cannot live with You by Emily Dickinson. Annie Hall has a few quotes that scream into my ear as important and noteworthy, one being about how we make things perfect in art because they aren’t that way in reality. Another was a joke Allen told about two ladies sitting in a restaurant, one complaining about the quality of the food, the other complaining there wasn’t enough of it. Allen relates this back to life, noting that life is exactly that: shitty and over too quickly. His other two quotes are one that states they would never join a club that would accept them as a member, and a joke about a boy complaining that his brother has gone crazy and thinks he is a chicken, and when the doctor says turn him in, the boy responds that he would, but he needs the eggs. Allen relates both of these to relationships, saying why should he date anyone who would date his crazy ass, and relationships are a mess, but we deal with it because we “need the eggs”. That’s where I stand, I don’t think I should date because I often have these random cravings for solitude, but prolonged solitude concludes with loneliness and self-deprecation. If it wasn’t clear, I am currently in this prolonged state. The Dickinson poem goes into the eventual downfall of every relationship, and no matter how strong the relationship, if we include afterlife, no relationships will truly be together forever. Think about all the widows out there who cry over the loss of their “true love” only to marry again a year later. Dickinson seems to be striking this note. She notes that she is so aware of her life that adding another vessel to her conscious means knowing there is an eventual downfall, whether it is she is broken up with, she does the breaking up, her SO dies, or her own demise surfaces. No matter the ending, there is heartbreak. I once was talking to a girl (before I had my first real relationship), and for some reason with this girl I knew things would not pan out well. She liked me, and I had moderate feelings for her, and anyone else would pursue these feelings and test the metaphorical waters, but I opted out and went with brutal honesty. I no longer talk to this girl, of course. Anyway, I was talking about God. Ah yes, fact vs interpretation. See, I think there may be a force we cannot describe that in some ways controls how our lives pan out. I don’t think this is a Westworld situation where we are all predetermined androids, but I think there is a possibility that fate, karma, destiny, miracles, God, Jesus (yes, I know people say he was a real person, but fact of the matter is he is the result of a centuries-long telephone game. Sure, he could have existed, but was he really the son of God? Was he really this “almighty” force that died for our sins? What does that even mean? He died so I could say fuck and the apologize for it later?), I think all of these forces that appear mythical and wondrous, these forces we cannot even explain the origins of and instead just say “it was God” because we have a tendency to humanize everything that has the potential to be, I think these forces COULD all be one force. The ignorance and hubris of humans to believe God is an anthropomorphic invisible force is ridiculous, hence why I reject Christianity and the belief in God, but I am open to the belief in a force that has a say in our destinies. However, it rejects the facts. The facts are planets can be made from spacial activity, and life can and WAS created spontaneously through chemical reactions and evolution. Knowing how small of a piece I am in this puzzle is the only thing that gives me any morsel of confidence when I need it. Humans are barely even a scratch on the surface of Earth’s history, and my personal life is not even worthy of being called a nick, a tap, or even a breath. What I just said, and everything I have and will ever say, means so much to me and my life, but means absolutely nothing in the grand picture of life. I will not change the world. We are overpopulated with people, and I am simply another body in that crowd. Even celebrities and famous scientists or entrepreneurs are barely a mark on the history of life. There is no man other than Jesus who, in the grand timeline of life, would get specific recognition for their achievements, and like I said who even knows if Jesus did all that sin dying bullshit. The reason I bring up fate is because I feel like all my life has had a slight dictation, as if I silently beg for something to get thrown my way and then blam, there it is. I may just have luck, but fuck that, throw luck in with the rest of them. I want to name this force, and I won’t be a cheesy nerd and opt for “The Force”, especially because that’s just midichlorians, but I think a fitting name would be one we have already mustered: fate. I think fate fits perfectly because miracles, destiny, luck, karma, they are all acts of fate, they are all under the notion that what is intended to transpire will. God and Jesus are ways to humanize fate, but I reject that humanization because human are not important enough to be in control of everything, and I believe this force has been around forever and caused the birth of humans, so why would it be human if it was around before humans? It isn’t, that’s my point. My semi-belief in fate also points to my realization that often I tend to slightly stray from my comfort zones, only to find I am back in them later down the road. I see this with other people too, and I theorize that no matter how hard we try, many of our conquests will now pan out because they do not fit our comfort zones. This could be why I feel like I should go back to my old relationship, but also makes me realize these comfort zones are not a negative per se. We all strive to be comfortable, and yes challenges are good but there is a balance there that this past relationship seemed to meet the requirements of. I don’t know, I am so fucking lost and I understand I have the right to be at my age but that doesn’t dampen my fear. I am not old, I age in a month but hey, I’ll still be 1/4 of the age I assume I will meet my demise. there is still 75% of my life left to live (hopefully), so I am of course not suicidal, in fact it would be stupid for me to kill myself considering I am still trying to understand life; the solution to that problem would not be leaving life. I have met many people, some have made bigger marks on my life than others, and I don’t quite know whether I should accept things as journeys, or hold onto things like rewards, but I am sure that I will continue to try to figure this out, to figure life out. I know I need purpose, I know I need to figure out what all this is for (piiiinch me). I am beating myself up right now because I keep thinking of happier times. When I was younger, I used to cry after having an amazing day, because I feared I would never be that happy again, and because I realized I will never have that exact experience again and my love for it was so strong that not having that experience again made me cry. I cried a lot when I was younger, and I barely do now, but like I mentioned I have twice over this weekend, and a few times in the not too distant future. It could be stress, it could be fear, it could be loneliness, I have no idea. All I know is when I cry I feel like a coward because I often cry when I am avoiding expressing my true emotions. I see myself and my life as one giant chicken, but at the end of the day, I need the eggs.

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furilia · 7 years ago

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Strange letters from my father

New Post has been published on https://www.furilia.com/strange-letters-from-my-father/

Strange letters from my father

I never do paid posts but I’m doing this one for two reasons. 1) Because I was already going to write about this. Stick with it and you’ll see why in a second, and 2) because the 8th Annual Jame Garfield Miracle is going on and I needed more money to help kids in need and this was a super easy way to do it. So if you’re reading this, you are helping needy children. EVERYONE WINS.

So, StoryWorth advertised on my blog this year and I loved it so much I paid full price to buy one for my dad. Here’s how it works: StoryWorth emails your family member weekly story prompts in the form of questions. They reply to the emails and you get to read their amazing family stories that you never knew existed. Then at the end of the year StoryWorth binds the years worth of stories into a keepsake book. My dad has been doing it for about six months and the emails I get with his answers are so insane and lovely that I often have to call and ask, “Is that true?” Stories about my grandparents and great grandparents that I may never have known are now being shared with family. It is awesome and I highly recommend it because it’s a gift for you and for them. It’s normally $79 but right now (until 1/31/18) it’s only $59 through this link.

The stories my father shares are really too good to keep to myself so I’m sharing a few snippets of my favorites here. You may think they’re strange and terrible but I love and treasure them. I suppose that’s how family stories work though. (BTW, Nelda is my mom. She types the answers as my dad dictates.)

Have you pulled any great pranks?

I was prying something loose one day, and I broke off half the blade of my skinning knife. Stupid! Now the six-inch blade was only three inches long. It was now perfect for prying things loose, but it was also perfect for a practical joke.

We have an electric knife sharpener at the taxidermy shop, and I don’t allow anyone to use it except me. If you’re not paying 100% attention to what you are doing, the high-speed sharpening wheel can throw the blade back at you. Bad news.

I went to my own working area where I hide from the other workers and went to work on my joke. I super glued the tip of my broken knife blade to the inside of my inner right arm. Next I built up the wound area with 2-part epoxy. It’s a product we use in the taxidermy shop like modeling clay to make artificial skin on a mount. I smoothed out the epoxy, texturized it to make it look like my own skin and modeled it to look like that knife is really embedded deep in my arm. I used an airbrush to paint the epoxy area to match my skin. Next I feathered in some white, purple,and red paint to make a realistic cut. Finally I mixed up some blood- red and black paint. I added a little glycerin to give the fake blood a wet glossy look. I poured the blood where it needed to be, and splashed the rest on an old rag that I used to cover the gag.

I staggered into the shop and sat down, not saying a word.

Don was the first to notice the blood. “Holy Crap! What did you do?” Helen came out the office, and I removed the blood-soaked rag to show my work of art. Everyone gathered around me to either gawk or help. Helen hollered out, “Don’t put it out. He’s on blood thinners! He”ll bleed to death!”

No sooner did she say that, Jonathon grabbed the knife and pulled it out. I quickly covered the wound with the bloody rag. I figured the joke was over till Jonathon looked at the knife and screamed, “It broke off in his arm!”

I didn’t get any compliments for my realistic art work. I cleaned up my mess and came back in the shop. I sat down next to Jonathon and asked him if it looked real. He said. “Yeah, I thought it was real……..What are blood thinners?”

What have you changed your mind about over the years?

I use to think that dogs are a man’s best friend, but I’ve changed my mind. Dogs will always forgive you quickly if you ask them to, but they don’t do laundry, they don’t cook, they don’t scratch your back, and they don’t clean house. They are pretty good at doing dishes, as long as you smear left-over gravy over the whole plate.

I use to think that a loving wife would see the humor in that previous paragraph. Dogs will still always forgive you quickly if you ask them to.

I use to think this was funny.

If you could choose any talents to have, what would they be?

I asked Nelda what this question meant. Any talent? She suggested singing, or playing an instrument , or maybe x-ray vision. X-Ray vision might be cool only if it is selective. Some old fat guy crossing your path of vision could ruin your day. A cute young chick could also ruin my marriage. I’ll stick with my near- sighted astigmatism with floaters.

I already sing beautifully. I have that talent even though no one else thinks so. My ears are so good that in my head the notes sound pitch perfect. Self corrective hearing is what I call it.

I might like the talent to finish everyone’s sentences before they could say it. Unfortunately I hang around a lot of people that don’t make a lot of sense. I’m not going to take credit for a bunch of nonsense.

I would like the talent to communicate with animals. I would like to understand their thoughts. Someday I will.

What is one of your fondest childhood memories?

One of my fondest memories is going perch fishing with my mom. When I was about five years old, I got the fishing bug. I couldn’t get enough fishing. My dad had a farm out at Eola, about twenty miles from home. The whole family would pack up before daylight, and drive out to the farm to work. My dad would usually be on his John Deere tractor. My mom would be either building electric fence or picking rocks out of the field. My sisters would be together hoeing weeds. I, being the baby, stuck with my mom. We would work till noon, and then drive to our neighbor’s pasture to have a picnic lunch. A small dirt tank with green water surrounded by large mesquite trees was one of my favorite places to spread out our homemade quilts, and rest in the shade. We would eat bread, summer sausage, longhorn cheese, and drink Cragmont orange soda water. After lunch, I would get out my cane pole. I always saved some of my lunch to use for bait. Those perch would bite on anything, but bread was my favorite cuz it stayed on my hook the best,

My dad would usually sleep and rest while my mom would watch me fish. She was actually watching a five year old kid making sure I wasn’t gonna fall in the water. The fish would bite as fast as you put the hook in the water. They weren’t very big, but I kept anything that had eyes. I even kept a little turtle. When I caught a water snake, my fishing was over.

Have you ever won anything?

The last year that the famous Sam Lewis put on the World Champion Armadillo Races, I won. Actually, my armadillo won. All I did was get behind Army and stomp and holler and chase him across the finish line. I guess I came in second. I released the armadillo back in the woods, but I kept the silver ring. My daughter Jennifer has the ring (I think).

I probably wouldn’t have given her the ring if it was gold.

What inventions have had the biggest impact on your day-to-day life?

The cube is probably the greatest invention of my lifetime. Before the cube, there was really not much stability in my life. Spheres were the rage when I was growing up. How can one build anything on a sphere? No matter how you slice it, you end up with just a lot of wheels.There was hope for wheels in those days, although someone took the idea too far. The whole world revolved around wheels and anything that could be made with them. Donuts were one of my favorites. It was like a wheel inside of a wheel. Clever. But look at a really fat donut from the side. It’s a cube. Give the cube the credit due. You eat a donut from the side, don’t you?

Cubes were the true building blocks of the future. The Egyptians knew this. They even made huge cubes all over their back yard. Then they sliced the cubes diagonally, tipped them over so they would rest on their most stable side, and “BAM”! They had yard art that would last for decades. People would ride by, see the yard art, and ask the age-old question, “Do you think that’s a cube cut in half on its axis, or is that cube half buried in the sand. If someone ever invents the wheel, we could build a big bulldozer and find out.”

Ice cubes. How would you like living in this planet without ice cubes. Sure, there’s people up north that don’t appreciate ice like we do, but what if they want to sit down for a while. Up north, chairs don’t grow on trees, but a big cube of ice would make a wonderful chair. You could probably build a house out of ice if you had enough of it laying around. An air-conditioned house. With an ice box.

I really don’t dislike spheres. After all, a sphere is just a well-rounded cube that likes to travel.

I changed my mind. My favorite invention that has changed my life is a 19 volt battery-operated screwdriver with an extra lithium battery. Made by Craftsman.

How has the country changed during your lifetime?

The country hasn’t changed at all. The cities are all screwed up. I lived in the country when I was a kid, and I live in the same country now. The trees I remember as a kid seemed to be a lot smaller back then. The country roads I use to walk down seem to be a lot shorter when I drive them.

Water skiing, tubing and fishing wasn’t good at all on our local lakes, but I got pretty good at skipping rocks. The trick was to find flat rocks about three inches across. If you could find rocks that were flat on the top and bottom, you were in business. With a little practice, you could get thirty or more skips out of one perfect rock. You could get even more skips if the lakebed wasn’t sandy. When you found that perfect rock, you didn’t squander it. You walked out in the lakebed and retrieved it. Once when I was retrieving one of my dad’s washers (sometimes I used artificials),I found a rowboat. It was a Sears/Roebuck 10 foot aluminum just like the ones in the catalogs. This boat was mine.There wasn’t a drop of water in my new boat, and I started dreaming about all the adventures I would have on Lake Nastywater. (We use to called it Lake Nasworthy, till the water level went down and old tires messed up our rock skipping). I named my boat S.S Minnow. Gilligan’s Island was my favorite after school tv show. I liked Gilligan the best, but Ginger and Mary Ann got a lot better over the years. My Dad enjoyed that show too. I knew he was really gonna get excited when I showed him The Minnow. We walked out on the lake and gazed down on our boat.

“Oh My Gosh! Look! ” Daddy saw my boat. He was excited. He peeled off his sweat stained farmers hat, smiled, sighed, and said something that I couldn”t believe. “There’s my old boat.”

“What! Your boat?”

“Sonny, I lost “The African Queen ” about forty years ago.” I was noodling for yeller cats down here when this was the Middle Concho. You know what noodling is……Catching them with your hands. It wasn’t against the law back in them days. Now, they would throw you in the pokie. I found this big rock right here and knew this was where the big one lived. Right under this rock. Your Uncle Sam, my older brother, was a better swimmer than me ,and he had more experience at catching big fish. Sam jumped in the water, took a deep breath, and went underwater. He came back up about 30 seconds later ,and told me the good news. “There’s a big hole under that rock, and there’s a catfish down in there. His head is as big as a five gallon bucket. As soon as I catch my breath, I’m going for him. My brother, Sam went under. He was down there a long time. He was down too long. I jumped in the water, and found the hole that Sam had entered. I reached in, and found Sam’s legs kicking up a storm. I grabbed his legs and started pulling him out of the hole. It was a struggle,but I pulled him out. We surfaced, and Sam was as white as a sheet. We looked around and couldn’t find “The African Queen”.

We sat up on the rock, Sam caught his breath finally, and told me what happened.”That monster fish was deep in the hole. I was rubbing his belly with both hands. My arms were extended, reaching for his gills. He kept swimming further in the hole. I didn’t realize that the hole was getting tighter, and I was running out of breath. My arms were out in front of me, and I couldn’t push my way out. I was stuck underwater. I was ready to give up when I felt you pulling me out. You saved my life!

We reached down to release our boat from the encrusted mud, and it proved to be a lot lighter than expected. There was no floor in the boat. It had rotted out years ago, but it still held some shared memories for my dad and me.

Uncle Sam and Daddy are both gone now. Maybe they’re floating down the Middle Concho in an old rowboat with a floor in it. Maybe they’re fishing for big yeller cats. They’re not noodling though because Sam promised God that he wouldn’t fish that way anymore.

Do you have any particularly vivid memories of your grandparents?

All of my grandparents were Czech. They didn’t speak English but they were successful farmers. They figured out early in life that to be wealthy, you had to have good discipline. They saved their hard-earned money that they made sharecropping. Then they bought land. They made do with growing their own fruits and vegetables. They raised chickens for eggs and meat. They had cows that they milked daily and butchered their own beef and hogs.They made their own clothes, churned butter, canned produce from the garden, made cheese , flour, cornmeal, and bread. The only thing easy on the farm was falling to sleep at night.

Butchering hogs in those days was a big deal. There was too much work for one family to do all the work in one day. There would also be too much meat and sausage to cure, smoke, and package. The meat from a three hundred pound hog would go bad before one family could eat it.

When the first cold day would come around, all of the aunts, uncles, and third-generation heathens would meet at my grandparents house with all their butcher knives, tow sacks, hog scrapers, seasonings. We were having a butcher day. There was going to be a lot of work and a lot of fun for everyone except two fat hogs.

The women would build a big hot fire under a wash kettle full of water. The men would get the hogs up out of the mud, and wash them off. The hogs didn’t know what was going on with all this special treatment, but I bet they thought they were family and they were being invited for dinner. Smart pigs.

My uncles would build a sled,and then would position our dinner guest close to it. A shot would ring out and an unhappy but short squeal would alert the second dinner guest that now might be the time to cancel his reservation. The relaxing swine napping on the sled would be given a ride to the kettle area. Tow sacks (burlap bags) were pulled out of the boiling water and spread over a portion of the sleeping porker. The scalding loosens the hair on the pig and a dull butcher knife is used to scrape the hair (root and all) off of the pig.

The whole process is repeated on a new area of the pig until the whole hog is as balded as the top of my head. That pig is also pretty and pink like the top of my head.

Now it’s time to gut the clean “organ donor”. The liver, kidneys, and heart are saved. The small intestines are also saved. It was my job to clean out the green juice out of these long tubes. I liked attaching a garden hose to one end and let the water pressure do the work. My job was taken away from me because of the mess I made all over the porch. I think years later Whamo made a fortune with a toy called a Water Wiggle. I guess I was just ahead of my time on inventions, but my marketing skills had not yet been perfected. Sometimes, poop happens.

The rolls of fat from the hog is collected for later use. The ashes from the fire were shoveled into a tilted wooden trough. Water was poured over the ashes and drained into another container. This was lye. The fat is put in the kettle and rendered down to lard. Some of the lard was saved to cook with. It was poor man’s shortening. Then the belly meat and flanks were cut up (with the skin still attached), and the small pieces were fried in the lard. This was cracklins. You eat them hot with molasses and homemade bread. You now have a lot of lard in the kettle. Dump the lye in with some kind of perfume and boil the devil out of it. Let the whole mess cool down and you got soap. Cut the soap into bars with a butcher knife and let it get cold. It will last forever. I think it has such a long shelf-like cuz no-one wants to use it. It stinks, and it takes your hide off with the dirt. It will cure a young boy from cussin .

Cut up the pork chops,cure the bacon, cure the hams and hocks, and start turning the grinder. It’s “SAUSAGE TIME”.

Those casings that were rescued from me are refilled with seasoned ground pork and tied into links. Hang ’em in the smoke house.

It’s now pretty late, and everybody’s tired. We sample the sausage and clean up the huge mess. I clean the front porch.

I give Babuska (Grandmother) a hug goodbye. I smell like the front porch, but she returns the hug anyway. That was sixty years ago, but I can still smell the aroma of fresh baked poppy seed kolaches from her homemade apron.

I still smell like her front porch.

My dad with his sisters and his mother. Wall, Texas.

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