looks exactly the same as when my wife brings me a little treat home from the store
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So earlier in art class today, someone drew a characters hands in their pockets and mentioned that hands are really like the ultimate end boss of art, and most of us wholeheartedly agreed. So then, our teacher went ahead and free handed like a handful of hands on the board, earning a woah from a couple of students. So the one from earlier mentioned how it barely took the teacher ten seconds to do what I can’t do in three hours. And you know what he responded?
“It didn’t take me ten seconds, it took me forty years.”
And you know, that stuck with me somehow. Because yeah. Drawing a hand didn’t take him fourth years. But learning and practicing to draw a hand in ten seconds did. And I think there’s something to learn there but it’s so warm and my brain is fried so I can’t formulate the actual morale of the lesson.
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Things that don't exist in Scooby-Doo:
Ghosts
Things that exist in Scooby-Doo:
Jetpacks
Aliens
Instant Hypnosis
Machines that put you in the computer
Realistic hologram technology
Were-Cats
Meteors made of Gold
Self-Aware AI
Underground Egypt Cult
Cthulhu
Soul-Sucking Triangles
Transylvania, PA
Moon Resort
Magical Space Guardians
Transgender Potion
Courage the Cowardly Dog
Warlocks
Ghosts
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okay so I have this idea for a new therapy thing. basically the idea is after an abusive relationship or a combat deployment or anything that might conceivably leave you with PTSD and a loss of ability to reasonably gauge how bad the shit that happened to you actually was, you sit there with a mental health professional for like, a solid 30 to 60 minutes, you tell them short vignettes of your experiences and they respond ONLY by rating how fucked up each one was on a scale from 1 to 10 and then you move on. the objective isn't to reflect deeply on specific experiences but to get a sustained series of reassurances that what you went through was, in fact, That Bad and gradually rebuild your trust in your own present and future ability to judge when what you're going through isn't okay.
currently calling it Rapid Fire Affirmation and Recalibration Therapy (RAP-FART). working title, open to feedback.
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Years before the covid pandemic began, author Naomi Kritzer wrote the charming, emotionally genuine short story "So Much Cooking," which was a pandemic log through the eyes of a cooking blog. The premise is that the author is a home cooking blogger raising her kids, and then a pandemic hits--and bit by bit she's feeding not only her own, but her sister's kids, some neighbors' kids, and so on, in a situation of pandemic lockdown and food shortages.
It's very good, and was prescient for a lot of the early days of the covid pandemic. I found myself returning to it often in the first couple of years because of how steadfast it was in its hopefulness.
Last year she wrote a novelette, "The Year Without Sunshine," which attacks a similar problem in a similar way; instead of pandemic, this one is about the aftereffects of a distant nuke or a massive volcano explosion (it doesn't say), which has churned a great deal of dust into the air, causing massive damage to society and agriculture. The story covers one neighborhood, pulling together to keep each other alive--not through violence, but through lawn potatoes and message pinboards and bicycle-powered oxygen concentrators.
I recommend both stories. They're uplifting in a way that a lot of what I see lately isn't. They're a bit of a panacea for constant fearmongering about intracommunity violence and grinding hatefulness. We can be good to each other, if we try.
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I love Nina so much, she’s like oh are you banging the librarian, cause you’re a whore and a slut? and Crowley just stood there like, man that was an option?
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