#this was an attempt at Perspective and i think i semi succeeded

[magicicephoenix]

I don't know if I'm late for palette requests bit what's about "who is she" for Twisted Alice,maybe? :o

twisted alice with who is she?

you’re not late at all! requests are still open, i’m slowly chugging along with them :)

[lilnasxvevo]

The reason I think that that addition is stupid is because Jin Guangyao saying “Ooh does it sting that Jiang Cheng came to rescue his NEPHEW but not YOU?” is that it would have worked for any other sibling or semi-sibling pair in the show! It even would have worked the other way around!

Thought experiments:

-If Wei Wuxian had come to rescue Jin Ling but not Jiang Cheng would Jiang Cheng’s feelings have been hurt? (Yes)

-If there was a situation where Wei Wuxian came to save, like, Lan Wangji but not Jiang Yanli would her feelings have been hurt? (Yes)

-If Lan Wangji came to save Wei Wuxian but not Lan Xichen would Xichen’s feelings have been hurt? (Yes)

-If Lan Xichen came somewhere to save Jin Guangyao but not Lan Wangji would Wangji’s feelings have been hurt? (Yes)

-If Nie Mingjue came somewhere to save Lan Xichen but not Nie Huaisang would Huaisang’s feelings have been hurt? (Yes)

So the issue is NOT about Jin Guangyao growing up an only child and not understanding what siblings are like. He knows, broadly, what siblings are like—he knows lots of siblings!

The issue is simply that he doesn’t know what WEI WUXIAN is like, because he never really knew Wei Wuxian and no one was willing to talk about what he was like as a person after his death. He doesn’t know that Wei Wuxian just straight up DOES NOT VALUE HIMSELF and has EXTREME trouble understanding how much people love him and has trouble seeing himself as someone worth saving! So he not only doesn’t think anyone would bother rescuing someone like him but he especially can’t see why Jiang Cheng would rescue him because he can’t see how much Jiang Cheng still loves him! He’s so confused by Jin Guangyao’s attempted barb because he’s like, “No, I’m a worthless piece of shit and Jiang Cheng hates me. What part of that makes you think he would come to save me?”

It’s also, secondarily, Jin Guangyao’s lack of understanding of how Jiang Cheng sees Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian was always the ultimate Yunmeng Jiang disciple, the person who was constantly not only attempting the impossible but succeeding every single time. Jiang Cheng has a lot of hero worship for Wei Wuxian even as an adult, and it’s understandable because Wei Wuxian was a once-in-a-lifetime genius and prodigy at literally everything he turned his hand to, invented a whole new branch of cultivation, and look—he even came back from the dead! That’s the most impossible thing he’s ever done, but something being impossible has never stopped him before! (Jiang Cheng does not know at this point that Wei Wuxian did not CHOOSE to come back from the dead and played absolutely no part in it.)

Jiang Cheng didn’t come for Wei Wuxian because Wei Wuxian is the most insanely powerful person alive, and even if he was powerless he’d be able to handle himself in a pinch because he’s an unparalleled genius who’s quick on his feet and can find a solution to every problem. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, is MERELY one of the top five best cultivators alive. What could he possibly do to help Wei Wuxian that Wei Wuxian couldn’t do himself?

Jin Ling, on the other hand, is Jiang Cheng’s idiot baby nephew who has just been thrown into a very dangerous situation with, from Jiang Cheng’s perspective, no one to protect him. (Jiang Cheng still feels like Wei Wuxian turned his back on the Jiang and doesn’t yet understand that Wei Wuxian would gladly die for Jin Ling.) He needs help. He needs protection. He needs someone to get him the hell out of there. HE NEEDS HIS JIUJIU.

So yeah, Jiang Cheng went to rescue Jin Ling but not Wei Wuxian. Because Jin Ling was the one who actually needed his help.

[whumpster-fire]

More on Redemption Arcs

So, there’s something else I want to say about Enemies to Lovers / Enemies to Friends / in general redemption arcs, and in particular those where a character who’s previously been hurt by a villain or their associates is now in a caretaking role for that villain.

Obligatory no one is obligated to forgive someone who’s caused them trauma, or go through the emotional labor of supporting them, or ever interact with them again. But, IMO, it works better if you approach it from the perspective of: “Okay, so why would the traumatized character want to interact with the source of that trauma?” Think about something positive they’re getting from this relationship, from the character’s perspective, and/or think about it in terms of what would establish a bond between them that would cause character A to not want to say: “Okay I don’t care if they’re reformed / reformable, they’re someone else’s problem.”

And obviously there’s better and worse, or at least healthier and less healthy reasons for this. One good one is to have circumstances / the plot force them to grit their teeth and work together, causing bonding through alliance (I dunno the actual term), and at some point during or after this they go “Oh shit we’re actually friends now” (CoughZukoCough). Another of my favorites is to have characters bonding through a shared trauma. This could be a “we’re all in the same boat” situation like I mentioned above but instead of succeeding together they suffer together, or it could be through similar circumstances but not actually the same event, or it could be they’re both abused and traumatized by the same Even Worse Villain and the subordinate villain ends up standing up to their abuser and helping the hero. (E.g. @wildfaewhump’s Iesin and Talvos storyline here on Tumblr, go check it out).

Here’s a couple of case studies of this with redemption arcs I’ve written avoided writing like 90% of the actual recovery phase of, which I’m putting below a Keep Reading both because we’re several paragraphs in now and because one of them spoils the canon material, and also yeah I’m being obnoxious writing long-winded essays about my own fics even if it is my blog. Fics are linked to Ao3, check the tags and summaries on there for trigger warnings and read at your own risk.

Case One: Resurrection x And x Reconciliation

This is in the Hunter X Hunter fandom, and it’s a Gon & Neferpitou friendship, which if you’re familiar with the canon material sounds like the worst fucking idea ever for an enemies to friends arc. Long story short Pitou killed (and also reanimated as a corpse puppet) someone close to Gon, and the trauma of this utterly broke him, to the point of being so obsessed with revenge that he pushed away and hurt his closest friend, took an innocent person hostage for leverage, and basically snapped and went to utterly insane lengths to kill Pitou that it would have caused him a slow, horribly painful death if it weren’t for circumstances.

Okay, but long story short, the person whose death set this all off later turned out to have somehow reincarnated himself into another body, and Gon already processes stuff in really weird ways, so he was now left struggling to process the delayed realization of all the fuckups and reckless and harmful things he’d done, and the trauma of the actual “fight” against Pitou, and meanwhile Pitou got the fun experience of experiencing grief and loss and a near-death (technically actual death) experience for the first time and starting to process that she’d caused that kind of trauma for hundreds of thousands of fully sentient people. And also it turned out that they both sacrificed their lives to kill each other and accomplished absolutely nothing in the process, because the person Gon was trying to avenge turned out to be still alive, and the person Pitou was trying to protected turned out to already be fatally injured.

So this is kind of the exception that proves the rule because Gon and Pitou’s friendship is absolutely 100% born of shared trauma, it’s just that a major part of said trauma was mutually inflicted on each other, and supporting each other kind of helps them heal. This isn’t necessarily actually psychologically healthy or a good idea, but it’s pretty well established in canon that the only thing worse than every single adult in the setting’s track record at supporting people during mental health crises is their track record at stopping Gon from doing whatever the fuck he decides to do, and no one wants to deal with Pitou either.

Case Two: La Resistance / Fresh Ink

This is in, uhh, the Warner Bros Cartoon Universe fandom / Who Framed Roger Rabbit fandom, but by nature the canon material doesn’t have much of a plot for the former and the later is really just the setting. Lemme try and summarize this: in the final battle against the terrorist group that was creating Toons (living cartoon characters with reality warping powers) as living weapons in an attempted genocide against other Toons, the only two surviving toons on the villain’s side, Wendy Weasel and Riley Raccoon, were semi-adopted by some of the protagonists: Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner, and Slappy Squirrel. At first mostly Wendy because in the immediate aftermath of the battle Riley was in the ICU.

Okay, why did they spend their time dealing with her? This one’s different because Wendy herself didn’t really cause that much in the way of direct trauma to the characters who ended up supporting her - the ones she really hurt didn’t have much to do with her - however she’s just a fucking chore to try to get along with because she’s passive-aggressive, aggressive-aggressive, destructive-aggressive, and her main defense mechanism is to intensify these traits even further so she was just a hostile brat most of the time.

Well, this starts as a “Forced together by external circumstances” plot, of a sort: Wendy ended up as a prisoner after the battle - she defected, but never actually surrendered because she knocked herself unconscious while killing the main villain. The FBI did not want to have to deal with a prisoner who could teleport through walls, pull weapons and tools out of thin air, Jedi Mind Trick guards, etc. etc. etc, and the Warner Siblings just happened to be in a possession of a tailor-made prison designed to hold creatures like her (originally meant to contain them, they broke out but refused to move out) and were among the like 5-10 people on the planet who could actually fight her, so the Feds basically went: “Your problem now,” or just as accurately, the Warners and Slappy were not letting what was obviously an indoctrinated child soldier who defected and helped them get deemed “Too dangerous to let live since we can’t keep her contained long enough to have a trial” as a matter of principle.

But reason B, especially as they interacted with Wendy, is that the Warners and to a lesser extent Slappy knew what it was like to be drawn into existence and surrounded by people who hated them, feared them, or at least didn’t respect them. Again there was an attempt to seal the Warners permanently in an inescapable prison, and this was before a method of actually killing Toons was invented so they’re pretty sure the humans would have preferred to straight-up murder them for being too powerful and out of control... which was also the exact same ideology held by Wendy’s creators. And they also really empathized with the strong “sibling” bond she had with Riley (not actually supposed to be siblings but drawn by the same animator so sort of siblings and they just kinda decided they were) because it reminded them of themselves as well. This is self-explanatory with the Warners, with Slappy, in the fic she and Screwy Squirrel were siblings, and “Gee wouldn’t it be terrifying if a character as chaotic and sadistic as Screwy Squirrel was a villain was literally the starting point for Wendy’s character concept.

Also reason C is “Obnoxious child using passive-aggressiveness to mask trauma, anger, and need for love and attention” fit right in in the WB Studio Water Tower.

Anyway tl;dr that’s another example of a potential motive behind the caretakers in a redemption arc: if the characters sort of identify with the villain due to similar backgrounds to the point where they sort of go: “That could’ve been me in different circumstances.”

[emeraldtawny]

Dazai Osamu Character Analysis: How Human Is He?

Before I get into this, allow me to preface this with a disclaimer: I AM NO EXPERT IN ANY OF THE TOPICS I AM ABOUT TO DELVE INTO, THIS IS JUST WHAT I INTERPRET PERSONALLY. This is just a fan of the character rambling about him and his real-life counterpart for the sake of sharing the thoughts rattling around inside my brain. However, I will link all sources that I used at the end of this so you may wish to investigate further if what you read piques your interest.

Okay, so… Dazai Osamu. This man is as much of an enigma as he was in real life (which… makes sense). Whether Cybird did this on purpose for a gradual build-up to his route or because he just wasn’t as popular a character, who knows? (I like to believe the former just for hope’s sake gbsdukgdx). Because we know very little about him in-game, the majority of what I will be mentioning will relate back to IRL Dazai. If you know little or nothing of Dazai Osamu, please proceed with caution if discussions of substance abuse, depression and suicide upset or trigger you. Consider this your disclaimer. Now then, let’s dive in.

History of Dazai Osamu

Born in 1909 into a wealthy family as Tsushima Shūji, that didn’t ease his early life from burdens. His father was a politician and often spent long periods away from home. His mother was often sick so he was mostly cared for by his aunt and the family’s servants. His father died of lung cancer when Dazai was 13, but he seemed mostly unhindered by the death of his father and continued through schooling before being accepted into the literature department of Hirosaki University in 1927.

Things started taking a more outward effect on Dazai around this time, the linchpin likely being the death of his idol - author Ryūnosuke Akutagawa - who committed suicide. He started losing interest in his studies, investing more time into alcohol and prostitutes. He also experimented in Marxism, even joining the Japanese Communist Party. His first suicide attempt was in 1929 - right before his school exams - by an attempted sleeping pill overdose. This wasn’t enough to kill him so he subsequently survived. He graduated from Hirosaki the following year, then moved to Tokyo University in 1930. There, he met a prostitute that he ran away with, prompting him to be disowned by his family. 

His second attempt at suicide came that year - an attempted double suicide with a young woman he barely knew. They threw themselves into the ocean. Sadly, she died, and Dazai was rescued by a passing fishing boat. He was suspected in the woman’s death, but his family’s influence saved him. He then married the prostitute he ran away with.

It was after this that Dazai began networking with established writers and started publishing his own works, his pseudonym of Dazai Osamu being established with his short story ‘Ressha’ in 1933. In 1935, he attempted suicide for the third time by hanging, failing once again. That same year, he suffered from appendicitis and was admitted to hospital where he developed an addiction to a morphine-based painkiller. He was admitted to a mental institution in 1936 and was forced off of his drug addiction. When he was getting treated, his wife had an affair with his best friend. With their marriage deteriorating, both Dazai and his wife attempted a double suicide - Dazai’s fourth attempt. They both consumed sleeping pills in an attempted overdose. Both survived and Dazai divorced his wife after this.

The 1930s and 1940s were Dazai’s golden years literature-wise. He wrote many novels and short stories. When World War II rolled around, he escaped being drafted due to tuberculosis. He continued writing through the war period and met and then married his second wife in 1941. They had three children together.

The last years of Dazai’s life produced his most infamous works - ‘The Setting Sun’ and ‘No Longer Human’ - in 1947 and 1948 respectively. Around this time, Dazai met a woman who he left his wife and children for to take as a mistress. On June 13, 1948, Dazai and his mistress committed suicide by drowning in the Tamagawa Reservoir in Tokyo. In a cruelly ironic twist, their corpses were discovered on what would have been Dazai’s 39th birthday - his fifth attempt was the one that succeeded. An unfinished novelette eerily titled ‘Goodbye’ was left behind, many believing this as his last will.

Dazai’s works became a cult classic after his death, his undertones of nihilism in a postwar society greatly appealing to the masses. ‘No Longer Human’ became his most famous piece, eventually being translated into many languages and is among the most popular books in Japanese literature. He inspired different movies and anime (and otome) with the story of his life and the works he crafted from his experiences.

(All info in this section is derived from Source 1)

No Longer Human’s Effect

When you think Dazai Osamu, it’s not uncommon to immediately think of his novel ‘No Longer Human’. Whether you’ve read the book or not, worry not, as I will not be discussing any plots in the book; I will instead address the overarching themes and (the lack of) conclusion and message the novel leaves you with.

Many consider ‘No Longer Human’ - and many other of Dazai’s works - as semi-autobiographical, as he took many of his story’s ideas from his own personal experiences. This is illustrated through the way in which he wrote his stories; focusing on first-person perspectives to an excruciatingly analytical degree. This was and still is known as the “I-Genre” in Japan and became a staple for Dazai, the viewpoints and mindsets he wrote his characters in portrayed very vividly in a way that made you question how much of it is the character, and how much of what he wrote was the author’s own words and feelings to the world.

‘No Longer Human’ is not a happy story. It follows the story of a man through childhood, university and finally adulthood - the story written in three parts as notebooks to show his progression of age. Without spoiling the contents of the novel in case you wish to read it for yourself, the story focuses on an overarching question: is being a human the solution, or the problem in and of itself? Throughout the novel, it’s clear of how questioning the main character is of this, almost to the point of obsession and compulsion. However, his language always shows how unconvinced he is; a “mundane and dream-like writing, incessantly miming the words “I think … ,” “I am … ,” “I could … ,” “I should … .” Dazai’s characters are never quite convinced.” (Source 2).

The character Dazai portrays is relentless in his self-examination, which leads to his estrangement - not just from those around him, but to the very species he is meant to be a part of. Estrangement is common throughout the story and “It is this fundamentally unhuman feeling that, paradoxically, reveals to Dazai’s characters exactly how human they are.” (Source 2). The inner monologues and conversations can be unsettling if you find yourself relating, alien if you don’t, but ultimately leave you walking away from it questioning even an inkling of what you thought was innate and normal. 

‘No Longer Human’ is not a story designed to tie up all of the loose ends it produces. Dazai leaves it up to you - the reader - to interpret for yourself. The character is infuriatingly, yet ultimately in character, indecisive in how he wishes to perceive the world; “To be a nonentity strangely indifferent to all the accoutrements of human life and society, and yet strangely drawn to the unhuman world of sky, rain, sand, sea, this is where Dazai’s novel ultimately leads, and it’s at this point that it has to end.” (Source 2).

Depression and Nihilism

I mentioned earlier that Dazai was admitted to a mental institution. From the sources I found, I couldn’t find anything concrete about why he was admitted aside from battling his drug addiction. However, mental illness was prevalent in Dazai’s life and it’s widely believed depression was a large part of this. Few recounts of people who talked with Dazai recalled his dark, wry tone in his writings, yet found his humour witty and oftentimes exaggerated (hmmmm…). Since I found nothing credible for this discussion beyond this, I’m going to step away from psychology and instead have a look at philosophy, specifically Dazai’s philosophy on life.

Again, this is just assumptions. However, I find this more comfortable theorising about over sensitive topics like depression and mental health (plus, I find this incredibly interesting, personally). You could argue that Dazai believes in sophistry - the use of clever but false arguments, especially with the intention of deceiving - but I’m inclined to disagree simply because of how deep Dazai digs himself into his own deception; if he himself believes what he tells others, I think it’s a more deep-rooted philosophy than false arguments. I mentioned nihilism earlier and this is what I ultimately believe is the philosophy in how Dazai saw the world. What type of nihilism is the question.

Most people think nihilism and assume the whole “God is dead, I feel nothing” hypothetical; I know I used to always assume so. But, of course, it’s not as cut and dry as that (nothing is simple…). There are different types of nihilism, but I will only talk about the one I think applies to Dazai. Throughout his stories, despite the gloomy atmosphere, there’s usually a(n attempted) glimmer of hope - a snag in the character’s mindset that draws them back into their repeating thoughts of what they should and should not perceive and believe in. Because of this, cosmic nihilism (also called cosmic pessimism) can be eliminated - Dazai’s characters don’t renounce everything they feel and take meaning in as illusions to make existing easier, they’re slightly more lenient in believing what they perceive.

I offer the type of nihilism I believe Dazai’s mindset for writing - and subsequently his actual mindset - falls into: existential nihilism.

Existential nihilism operates on the premise that there is no inherent meaning or purpose; “existence itself–all action, suffering, and feeling–is ultimately senseless and empty.” (Source 3). While not denouncing beliefs like faith and love like cosmic nihilism, existential nihilism relies on values being created and sustained lest they risk falling into the mindset that there is no hope, the world is truly empty and there’s no point in existing in a world that doesn’t even try to give you a reason to hold on. Existential nihilists don’t believe that happiness doesn’t exist; they simply believe that “miseries vastly outnumber pleasures, happiness is impossible” (Source 3) and, therefore, are constantly at odds with themselves over striving for this impossible happiness or simply leaving it behind to find something else to root themselves to reality. Many of Dazai’s character’s internal conversations echo this philosophy; they either despair over being who they are, or they despair because they can’t be who they think they are. In a specific example, they feel estranged and uneasy about how they think - being what they deem “not human” - or they feel trapped and alone in believing that they can’t be who they think they are, so they’re forced to play a character - a facade - for their entire life so as not to be discovered.

Search up ‘Dazai Osamu quotes’ on Google and you’ll find a plethora to read that seem to portray this very idea. Constantly battling within himself over what he should believe, what he should feel and, ultimately, never voicing his pain to the world itself. These two screenshots from the game seem to mirror this sentiment. 

Soo… what does this mean for Ikemen Vampire Dazai?

… Who knows? I don’t work for Cybird so I couldn’t possibly tell you sorry :3. The PV for his route had heavy implications of atonement and death being the only true salvation, so I’m intrigued on what angle they’re going to tackle that from, since Dazai’s reasoning for being revived was “well, death wasn’t what I thought it would be lol”. (Unless it’s a red herring… who knows with this eccentric man gbdukgdfx).

So… yeah. I just wanted to ramble and with his route dropping in Japan before April is done, I thought it was a good time to just ramble into the Tumblr void. Please feel free to broach further conversations about this, correct me if I slipped up anywhere or to just say you’re excited for his route (because I know I am huehuehue). 

Sources can be found here (Source 1 | Source 2 | Source 3)

[sophia-sol]

A Conspiracy of Truths, by Alexandra Rowland

One of the things that inspired me to read this book was finding the author's twitter thread of AO3-style tags for it. The tags were extremely compelling! I wish more authors would do this. It tells potential readers a lot more about what the narrative's priorities are than the marketing copy generally does.

Anyway. This is a secondary-world fantasy novel about a grouchy greater-than-70 year old man who makes a living travelling the world and collecting/telling stories, who has been arrested as a spy. The first-person narration is wonderfully compelling -- one of those examples where it's clearly a CHOICE to use first person because of the things you can do with it character-wise! I love Chant, the POV character, and how clearly, uh.......imperfect he is. He's kind of terrible? But I love him anyway? And I love that he's an example of the kind of character who is Good At Talking His Way Out Of Things but still, like, fails at doing so on a semi-regular basis -- or fails to think through the ramifications of succeeding.

Chant spends nearly the entirety of the book imprisoned by various political factions of the country he's currently stuck in, and does a lot of attempting to manipulate the situation to his own ends. Mostly: he wants to be warm and comfortable and be able to talk to his apprentice Ylfing and leave the entire country. His actions have effects that are....rather larger than that, and he's very SORRY NOT SORRY about that.

Chant's relationship with Ylfing is amazing, by the way. Ylfing is a teenage cinnamon roll who cares a lot about everything and is constantly falling in love with cute boys. Chant grouches about Ylfing a LOT but it is also so so clear that Chant super duper cares about him. (Chant is definitely an unreliable narrator about his own feelings.)

And the way that different cultural backgrounds affect people's perspectives! I loved every time the, uh......the people Ylfing comes from.....their preoccupation with accurately assessing one's skills at a particular thing comes up. (When Chant tells Ylfing that he's not the worst apprentice he's ever had, Ylfing is genuinely touched, because knowing where you rank from best to worst is important!) And Consanza's complicated feelings about being born to immigrant parents into a different culture, and what that means for herself and for her daughter: also amazing.

Hmmmm, other things. Normalized polyamory and queerness: check. Playing with the meaning and importance of story: check. A wide variety of interesting characters all with their own motivations: check. And lots more! A thoroughly enjoyable book, and I look forward to hopefully at some point reading the sequel which focuses on Ylfing!

[mcrmadness]

Artist asks; 4, 19, 25

Thanks! ^^

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4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

FARIN URLAUB. Altho I wouldn't say a fave cos I in general don't exactly have favorites, but we all know how annoying his face is to draw. It's just so symmetrical and he simultanously looks unique and so normal that in 9/10 drawings he looks like someone who looks like Farin but is more like some weird AU clone where something is off but you can't exactly pinpoint what that is.

He's fun to draw to my comics tho, I guess I've pretty much succeeded at capturing his most farinesque features for that version of him, but every single time I try a semi-realistic or realistic approach with or without a reference, I just fail miserably. UNLESS I use the grid system, but sometimes I fail even with that.

Also his hair is so annoying to draw (semi-)realistically. Every hair tutorial says "don't draw individual hairs, but strands of hair!" BUT HOW WHEN THIS MAN HAS NO STRANDS OF HAIR??? It's just all individual hairs pointing upwards and I feel like having a stroke when I stare at photos and try to figure out his hair 3-dimensionally but it feels more like some 5-dimensional thing that shouldn't exist in this world.

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19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

I like anything with depth and perspective, like something that is a rectangle, for example. In fact I like drawing almost any kind of object from phones to idk, stoves. They're fun challenges. Just anything that I can easily draw to look 3-dimensional! Unlike Farin's hair.

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25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

Hmmm. My art has never really been compared to anything afaik 🤔

If not counting in that time when I was ~10-11 and created one of my various comic book characters I created back them. It was this worm/snake creature (which I called as "Käärme-Matoset" in Finnish which means "Snake-Wormeys" whatsoever. Idk how to explain it in English, but mato = worm, matonen = little worm, so the -nen works a bit like -chen suffix in German!) and I showed it to one of my then-friends also liked to draw a lot. And she just claimed that I had copied some comic book character from a comic that I had never even heard of, and I told her that I don't even know what that is, and she just claimed that nope. You copied this character X from a comic Y.

Here's a cover I did for my "comic book" back in the day (I used to just stack papers together and make a 'comic book' for most of my comics if I didn't have or didn't want to use a notebook for them):

The comic I allegedly copied from probably doesn't say much to you, as it was in a comic from a Swedish comic book artist, Lena Furberg, who drew (still draws?) lots of horse comics (both realistic and very cartoony) for a Swedish "horsegirl" magazine which had its Finnish counterpart too. So this comic was just about a girl with tons of pets and one of them was a snake. I wasn't into horses at that point yet, so I had never read that magazine, unlike this classmate. I think I was already a teenager or a bit older when my siblings started collecting the same magazine and I finally saw what the comic, I was accused of stealing from, looked like.

But yeah, other than that I in general don't get much feedback on my art or drawing style. One of my friends just keeps saying I have unique style with my comics and she has never seen anyone else draw like I do, which is a HUGE win cos my attempt is exactly that: to do my own thing and not have my art to resemble anyone else's unless it's like a tribute (which I honestly have not done ever) or just shows who have influenced me without my art looking like a copy of the art of any of those comic book artists.

With my Micron (the fineliner pens) drawings I think it might have been you, tho, who once said the messy style reminded you(?) of some artist but I no longer remember who that artist was as I had never heard of him before.

[meteora-rachelle]

SACRED MADNESS

She was raised to be rational, economical, political, pragmatic, cerebral, sophisticated and knowledgable. She was taught to be polite but hard in affairs and her only true god should bee money. She was unfortunately not taught to how to feel much and even less on how to express those feelings. Despite it all Elisabeth was in love. The purest sort of love. She was in love with the mad Artists. She loves Baudelaire, Apollinaire and Camus. She loves Dali and Paris in the 1920’s. She dreams she could have been Gertrude Stein. Through art she discovered her emotional self. 

She had come to the conclusion that it was the root of her madness. This paradox living inside of her. The constant pull and push between rational and emotional, spleen and ideal. The death of her father made her aware of her own mortality. She wanted a legacy and not to be the continuation of her fathers legacy. She cared not for the rest of the world, except in as far as it contributed to her own selfish glorification. (1) I don’t think it’s particularly selfish not to want to die. At least for nothing.(2) Eternity as Artist patron.If it is to have a chance of rebirth, the human must recognise its own hideous deformity. (3)Some appear single in their Opinions, only to be continually opposite to the common Judgment of Mankind.(4)She wanted to create a memorial in Paris. The memorial of sacred madness. A remembering of the mad artist, l’artiste maudit. It is funded on tree paradoxes. They consist of six figures that are endlessly entangled. In these constraints, this closed off vacuum, this 'milieu', confined madness found a privileged element in which the essential forms of its truth could surface.(5) In this house, milieu one can experience and learn to enter that state of madness. It is a state of ‘hysteria’ (Baudelaire), ‘disordering’ (Rimbaud), or ‘paranoia’ (Surrealism)   but it is an incipient state only, and one compensated for by very real considerations; if it presents no real dangers this is precisely because it is accepted, deliberate, exploited aesthetically (whereas for the genuine sufferer such states are involuntary, unconscious or resisted).This state of deliberate semi neurosis, partly play acting, often little more than an ambivalent infantilism, allows the ‘modern’ intellectual to push far from his lips the bitter chalice of an everyday life which really is unbearable — and will always be so until it has been transformed, and until new foundations for consciousness are established. By his attempt to maintain such an incipient neurosis as a reflection of his detachment, the ‘typical’ intellectual is able to replace the trivial and the familiar with emotions and illusions which he finds more appealing, more bearable: the mysterious, the strange, the bizarre. He ‘lives out’ these emotions, and the element of play acting is rarely significant enough to provoke accusations of insincerity.(6)Throughout the rooms the symbol of the emotional fabric and water should be used as they have organic forms. For the ration it will be repetitive geometrical forms and architecture.

It begins with shivering, and a notable Sense of Cold, which is succeeded by a sensible heat, which at length ends in large sweats …(5)

We alternate between euphoria and despair, cycle of frenzy and fear, narcissism and paranoia.(8)

Those suffering from paranoia, delusions, psychosis, they love their delusion as they love themselves.(7) A loving trust in paranoia and a terrifying paranoia for trust. 

Trust is comforting. It is warm and calm. It stems from traust "help, confidence, protection, support,”. This understanding of trust is celebrated in this room. (represented by cloth) It is seemingly the opposite of paranoias.

However trust also stems from truth. The concept of truth is the death of of both emotional and rational. It is a delusion, a psychosis. 

Paranoia as a remedy for this trust. Recall Freud, who, in his analysis of the paranoid Judge Schreber, points out how the paranoid “system” is not madness, but a desperate attempt to escape madness.(3) A forever questioning of everything.

This room can also be read as a symbol of control. Trust, the cloth is not controllable and there is no desire to control it. On the other side Paranoia is about repetition and control.

Madness was no longer an absolute perversion that went against nature, but an invasion by nature.(5) Water, a simple, primitive liquid, belonged to all that was most pure in Nature.(5) But architecture is by definition anti nature, an act of delimitation against nature: one draws a line separating inside from outside, clearly stating to nature, “Stay outside!The inside is a domain from which you are excluded!”—the Inside is a de naturalized space to be filled with artifacts. The effort to harmonize architecture with the rhythms of nature is a secondary phenomenon, an attempt to obliterate the traces of the original founding crime.(3) But triumph over nature is dearly paid for.(9) Rousseau had already demonstrated how nature had ended, and how the human milieu had taken its place, ()Madness, like the plant, is the living rationality of nature.(5)

Feel broken, absurd, like nature … not logical and unitary, like reason.(5)

God is dead, he has been replaced by the primacy of the idea of incessant quests, of ‘cheminement’, of a progressive and hesitant search for oneself (reflexivity), which implies flexibility and the possibility of change. The simple dichotomies are refuted. The oppositions of soul spirit/ body, rationality/emotions are denied in favour of the idea that they are closely interconnected and that the material and mundane dimensions of individual life are in close connection with the spiritual aspects of this life because it is always the whole self who is concerned. In the same perspective, the transcendent and the immanent are joined (the God within).  the logical analysis of the faith.(10)

A spirituality deprived of gods and faith. L’homme dieu.

The rooms are a vehicle for experience and self discovery and lost. The visitor can stay as long as desired. Architecture not changing but the perception of them and experience in them do. The visitor should leave questioning everything and embracing the absurd.

1 Fergusson, An Historical Inquiry into the True Principles of Beauty in Art

2 Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

3 Zizek, Less Than Nothing

4 Mallgrave, Architectural Theory

5 Foucault, History of Madness

6 Lefebvre, Critique of Everyday Life

7 Lacan, The Psychoses Seminars of JL

8 Braidotti Hlavajova, Posthuman Glossary

9 Jung, Two Essays in Analytical Psychology

10 Coomans, Loci Sacri

[pomrania]

Ash, part 1

((Most of this written some time autumn 2017, finished 15 January 2018. I have no idea where I’m going from here.))

People get too caught up with appearances, and necromancers are no exception. They're enthralled with the images of flesh and bone, a reflection of living bodies. The more ambitiously aggressive of them believe in the power of spear and sword, gleaming armour to protect organs which have long since rotted away. They have a picture of "power" and "conquest" that comes from martial ability, and defeating the opposing force on the battlefield.

  Amateurs.

  It took me weeks to animate a rat, when the other students managed it in hours. By the time I succeeded, its flesh had mostly fallen away, and the bones were thin and delicate. I accidentally snapped one of its legs in my excitement at finally seeing movement; it stumbled, unable to walk properly on the damaged limb, until I mended the bone with some wire.

  I kept the rat. I call it Fitzie. It isn't particularly useful, not as others would describe it, but it's entertaining to watch, and serves as a badge of my craft should any have doubt.

  I struggled with my studies for years, always a couple steps behind the other students, and only getting that close through intense effort. I understood the theory, and could explain it well to the others -- at times that was the only thing that kept me from getting kicked out, my payment notwithstanding -- but I never seemed able to properly apply it. It was like I was trying to lift a heavy weight.

  Then one night, I had a realization. That's exactly what it was. It was too heavy.

  I've been worked hard on little sleep, we all had. Corpses didn't move themselves before they were animated, supplies needed to be transferred to their destination, and time-sensitive rituals didn't care how long you'd already been awake. I know what it's like to be mentally and physically exhausted, when simply raising an arm seems as unattainable as scaling the western mountains with just a blanket and a loaf of bread. I've felt it in myself, and I've seen it in others, and it looks a lot like how my corpses barely moved.

  Life and undeath both require the same three things: a spirit, a body, and a connection. With necromancy, we provide that connection. It was the first lesson we were taught. That connection is what allows a spirit to animate their body. The stronger the connection, the more that can be moved.

  Maybe I wasn't a very good necromancer in some aspects, but I excelled at others -- not just theory, but also the practical work of preparing a corpse, and the various levels of commands that make the undead ready to act instead of lying inert -- and once I can identify a problem, I'm intelligent enough to work around it.

  My first experiments with small animals, while I continued my other studies, were less than encouraging. Sure, their bodies weighed less, but their spirits were also weaker. I could reanimate them, Fitzie was proof of that, but it was hard. Skeletons were easier than mostly-intact bodies, but it took an accident for me to get from those points, to my solution.

  To train necromancers, a lot of corpses are required to practice on. Not all of them are successfully animated, and even if they were, there's neither reason nor room to keep every single one. We had an arrangement with the semi-local pyromancer and her students: we would provide labour for the upkeep of their grounds -- the undead don't fear getting caught in a conflagration, while most living labourers do -- and in return, they would incinerate our excess corpses. There wasn't any real schedule to the burning days; it all depended on when everyone was available, road conditions, and if any ritual-important times were coming up.

  The day that everything changed for me, I hadn't known it was a burning day. I'd been experimenting with partial reanimation, with only partial success. I took a chicken's head from the disposal pile, stripped as much of the flesh as I easily could, and set about trying to get it to move, without the rest of its body.

  Maybe the scent of burning should have warned me, but I've yet to meet a practicing necromancer with anything more than a rudimentary sense of smell; between decay and preservative chemicals and everything else, our noses tend to shut down in self-defense. While I prepared for my third attempt at animating the chicken skull, its body was nearby being reduced to ashes. Then, on that third try, I noticed it: a faint swirl of dust at first, which could easily just be my imagination, but that increased as a breeze stirred up the ashes, and allowed them to travel to where I'd called that weak chicken spirit.

  It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I gazed at it, entranced, as the ashes slowly formed the shape of the chicken's body, like pouring powder into an invisible mould.

  I reached out to touch it, then drew my hand back -- I didn't want to disturb it -- but it was too late. I had made contact, and the form dissolved under my touch, and my hopes dropped. But then -- but then! -- the ash danced back up again, regaining its former shape.

  My experiment had lapsed into a neutral state, with no directions, when I became distracted. Hesitantly, I set a simple command again: move.

  The beak might or might not have twitched. I didn't notice. But the body, that body composed of ash and dust, it moved. Directionless scrambling, and anchored by the weight of the skull on the ground. But it was the same motions I'd seen the other students get, and which up to then I had only managed with difficulty.

  I tried setting a more specific command. Maybe the level of control was different, with the unusual body. The wings should be able to move freely, unhindered by the weight, so I set them to flap.

  It complied immediately.

  Every command I set, it worked, within the physical constraints of the dust chicken being attached to a skull which it couldn't lift. It was so easy! I barely had to think it, and it happened.

  I picked up the skull, and the body came with it, suspended as if it had the normal weight of a chicken. No longer against the ground, it looked like a cloud, if a cloud could have coherent form. I touched it with my free hand, and it fell apart where I'd made contact; moved my hand away, and it sprang back into shape.

  I peered closer at it, examining how it moved and what it looked like and how the dust swirled at a touch. I wanted to carve it all into my memory, because I knew that this time, it had worked, and I didn't know if or when I would be able to get that again.

  While absorbed by my unexpected success, I had lost track of time. I noticed the positions of the shadows, and realized that I needed to leave soon.

  If my discovery was truly important and useful, I would be able to replicate it. There was no point in holding on to that one first experiment, or so I thought at the time.

  I unravelled the connection I had created, the one between the chicken spirit and its head and ashes. That part had always come easy to me. With nothing holding it in place, the body fell apart, and I was left with ash on my clothes, and an inanimate skull in my hand.

  I brushed the ash off, as much as I could, and tossed the skull into the much-reduced disposal pile.

  The rest of my day continued as normal, at least from an outside perspective. In my mind, I was full of energy, and busy planning my next experiments.

[tumblunni]

OH LOL I PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT THE GAME ACTUALLY IS, LOL So here have my attempt at a summary post so far

also have a tiny quincy

The Basic Idea And Such

It’s a test game! To see if I can make a game! I don’t have a name for it yet but it could be funny if it was literally called “Test Of [some sort of plot important thing]” or something?

The planned gameplay style is gonna be similar to old games like Princess Maker, or for a more recent example Persona 5. Mostly just because I FINALLY figured out how to make a calendar system run in rpgmaker, woo!

~ Test screenshot time ~ (ignore the random ass map in the background lol)

So basically you select one of several actions each day that can raise either your relationships with characters, or your social stats required to unlock more characters and scenes. Its like a visual novel with a bit of gameplay!

You play as a travelling adventurer named Lyall who has (for some reason) arrived at this village and is living there for a while and I guess you try and date some people?? I really don’t have the premise laid down yet for WHY this is all happening, I just have the characters and I need to find an excuse for them to all come together and become a plot...

Oh and this is gonna be set in the same universe as that strategy army game idea I had about the cathedral fortress. Just as an excuse to develop the worldbuilding a bit, and show other perspectives far away from the plot I have for that. (Tho all the progress I’ve made so far is just deciding that Wesnar citizens have grey hair, lol.)

THE CHARACTERS

Our hero, Lyall!

A very stoic and buff mercenary who quests for glory in ye olde cliche hero times! But also a gentle giant who cares deeply for everyone on earth, and only looks badass cos he’s too shy to say much. You will take control of this marshmallow shaped like a professional wrestler, and guide him towards his dating sim destiny...!!

Our exposition fairy/sidekick/tutorial man/helpful merchant/best friend/general cutie pie, Quincy!

He does many of those things! And generally fills a supporting role in this story and brightens up every day. Lyall and Quincy have known each other for quite some time before the start of the game, and have that wonderful symbiosis that is jrpg merchant and jrpg hero guy. So he’s always here to help you out on this new and decidedly more terrifying domestic adventure! Tho I mean, the both of you are shy as hell in different ways, so it might be a bit of a mess XD

I’m absolutely most definately planning on making him a romance route, yes

(Name pending- possibly Dominique or other D name?)

A cheerful sparring partner for our protagonist, and his accidental rival in love! She’s totally hyped to be his best friend, and is oblivious to the fact that every woman in town has a massive crush on her. Plus she keeps challenging him to beat her at various stuff, and doesn’t seem to realize her attempt at friendly bonding comes off as boastful. Alas! So she’s probably one of the easiest relationship bars to raise. You can just get her ending by succeeding at her various trials, or winning/drawing with her in tournements, or going to the gym with her a lot, or having high stats in social outgoingness and stuff. And if you decide to be just friends instead then she’ll withdraw from her rival role and help out as the ultimate wingman! And possibly there could be bonus semi-endings where friend mode Dominique hooks up with one of the love interests you didn’t pick?

Now presenting: Mallory!

A misunderstood magus! Despite her super scary looks and general morbid personality, she’s actually surprisingly humble, softspoken and hella anxious. Kinda like goth eeyore? Her self confidence is rock bottom and her thoughts are always pessimistic, which is why it’s good that she has this polar opposite personality sock puppet to help her out in social situations. Even if it often ends up making her look even more scary! There are rumours that she might have once been some sort of legendary treasure hunter, who quit the business for reasons unknown, and never managed to regain her confidence.

She’ll probably be a romance option, but also her plot is primarily about helping her kindle a positive relationship with the locals and get rid of her false reputation as a terrifying demon. And like.. conquer her fears of talking to the cashier at the general store. Most relateable waifu! (aside from the puppet part...)

Also I was intending her to just be a regular black mage but a goth-as-hell terrifying white mage is a pretty novel idea!

And co-starring: Mack the sock!

Their dynamic is kinda like a ventriloquist who can’t control her puppet? Mack is very sassy comic relief and likes to blurt out what Mallory is really thinking. Also he may or may not be some sort of actual eldritch demon possessing this woman. But he can be easily placated with snacks!

[name pending not warrior lady]

She’s the sister of [name pending warrior lady] and is a stoic and sensible deadpan snarker. Even though she’s the younger sibling she’s kinda the breadwinner of the family, and balances her sister’s wild impulsivity. All they have left is each other so they’re super close, even though its hard to tell from how much they tease each other! Her and her sister run the village cafe, though it’s mostly her doing all the actual businesswork while buff sis chops logs in the background, lifts beer kegs, etc. Lil sis isn’t actually a romance option tho, its hard to tell from limited sprite edits but she’s supposed to be around 19 or so and the protagonist is somewhere around 27-30. So she just provides a supporting role to the plot, and you can do part time work at the cafe to raise funds.

[pisicaalbapisicaneagra-blog]

Why Facts don’t Change the Mind – My Observation

My article is related to a New York Times article - “Why Facts don't change our minds”. While I recommend reading it, I will also take advantage of this opportunity to reflect on my own ideas regarding the subject.

I dived deep into psychology and spirituality especially in the past three years.

I had a ringing bell moment four years ago when I started to observe myself. Then I had an immense thirst of knowing the mind and the many aspects of the being. Everything started I guess, with an semi-conscious decision: I don’t want to suffer anymore.

What followed was learning psychology concepts and spiritual techniques – learning trough online lectures and reading. Many, many hours of learning and self inquiring. Another coping mechanism, I could say now, maybe a more fruitful one and of course, this time with time, a conscious one.

The first months when the fog in my eyes started to dissipate, I had one of the most important lessons from the cognitive psychology area – I was going to a therapies that period and I had many “a-ha” moments with her, little bulbs of light that I processed during the time that followed. Of course, all the knowledge I had from sociology, dance or previous brief self observations also helped me very much to enter into a new perspective:

Our own Ideology

So, one of the most important idea I understood from the cognitive psychology field and also from neuroplasticity and the intuitive work of spirituality leaders like Louise Hay, or Christie Sheldon, and many others, was that our minds have their own limited ideology. The minds are functioning according to already formed neuropathways.

Our own ideology is mostly subconscious and is formed trough millions of previous interactions that are creating neuropathways of reaction, fixed beliefs about the world and ourselves, relationships etc. If you are from the dance field or any other form of movement it will be very easy for you to grasp this idea, because our bodies have their own ideology too – yes, you have a fixed way in which you are taking the food to your mouth! Because of the fixed neuropathways already formed, it is very difficult for a dancer from a style to be involved in another form of dancing. Returning to the way we see our own life or society, imagine that it is also very difficult for someone to suddenly change his/her way of relating to something. For example: Conservative vs. Progressist.

„When engaged in new experiences and learning, the brain establishes a series of neural pathways.

These neural pathways, or circuits, are routes made of inter-connecting neurons. These routes are created in the brain through daily use and practice; much like a mountain path is made by daily use of a shepherd and his herd. The neurons in a neural pathway communicate with each other through connections called synapses, and these communication pathways can regenerate throughout your whole life. Each time that we gain new knowledge (through repeated practice), the synaptic communication between neurons is strengthened.

A better connection between the neurons means that the electric signals travel more efficiently when creating or using a new pathway. For example, when trying to recognize a new bird, new connections are made among specific neurons. Neurons in the visual cortex determine its color, the auditory cortex identifies its song, and other, the name of the bird. In order to know what bird it is, its attributes, its color, song, and name are repeated many times.

Revisiting the neural circuit and re-establishing neuronal transmission between the implicated neurons at each new attempt enhances the efficiency of synaptic transmission. Communication between the relevant neurons is facilitated, cognition made faster and faster. Synaptic plasticity is perhaps the pillar on which the brain's amazing malleability rests.” (Info via www.cognifit.com/brain-plasticity-and-cognitio)

See a clip where Sergei Polunin is learning new dance moves and see how difficult is for him to engage his body in a new practice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXa8cC-TnhE

“If we had no belief, what would happen to us? Shouldn't we be very frightened of what might happen? If we had no pattern of action, based on a belief -either in God, or in communism, or in socialism, or in imperialism, or in some kind of religious formula, some dogma in which we are conditioned -we should feel utterly lost, shouldn't we? And is not this acceptance of a belief the covering up of that fear- the fear of being really nothing, of being empty? After all, a cup is useful only when it is empty; and a mind that is filled with beliefs, with dogmas, with assertions, with quotations, is really an uncreative mind; it is merely a repetitive mind. To escape from that fear - that fear of emptiness, that fear of loneliness, that fear of stagnation, of not arriving, not succeeding, not achieving, not being something, not becoming something - is surely one of the reasons, is it not, why we accept beliefs so eagerly and greedily? And, through acceptance of belief, do we understand ourselves? On the contrary. A belief, religious or political, obviously hinders the understanding of ourselves. It acts as a screen through which we look at ourselves. And can we look at ourselves without beliefs? If we remove these beliefs, the many beliefs that one has, is there anything left to look at? If we have no beliefs with which the mind has identified itself, then the mind, without identification, is capable of looking at itself as it is& - and then, surely there is the beginning of the understand of oneself.” - J. Krishnamurti, The Book of Life

The moment I understood how the belief system is functioning and all the subconscious - emotional dynamics that are related to it are functioning, I understood that it’s a waste of time to be engaged in an argumentative discussion with someone who is from a different spectrum of beliefs, ideologies and cultural experience.

The only hope could be that the person in front of you has a more open and curious mind and soul; if not, really… it’s a waste of time, because you can’t influence strong and resistant belief systems, and already formed neuropathways in a few minutes! It can also be very frustrating. Your only chance would be... See below:

The EMOTIONAL CHARGE

From this point of realization, it would be very easy to say that we can tackle the belief systems only from the conscious mind’s will and stand point. But I don’t consider it to be true either. Because every belief system is charged with an emotional basis. And you can not change the emotional with the rational, or.. maybe it’s possible in a very limited way.

So, let’s take a belief system like: “I am poor, I don’t deserve more.”- it is filled with a lot of emotions and also many life events that helped create that mind system. I think the best way a belief system can be provoked is by creating also new emotional repetitive events associated with it. I fully agree that the reign of the rational mind, the reign of the facts and rational should nowadays be challenged! My new interest now is the work of professor George Lakoff who is making a great point into this new perspective where we, as society have to see, that facts don't matter that much. It is also very frustrating for me to see that the Advertising Industries learned this lesson so well and they are working with emotions and with the subconscious mind, not with facts; their aim being changing people's minds and creating patterns of consumerism.

I also found online this well structured argument about how our emotional minds are functioning, referring also to the New York Times article:

"Beliefs are a product of the subconscious mind. The subconscious processes information by way of pattern recognition. Once a pattern is established by the subconscious, it renders an assumption based on that pattern (and in turn creates a belief inline with the assumption). These students were given "evidence" that created a pattern supporting the idea that they got more right. Once that was conditioned the subconscious operated by that assumption. It continued to follow that assumption even when the conscious mind was shown it not to be true. The subconscious also is the emotional mind (it produces/controls all emotions). The only way to change a subconscious assumption is by presenting it emotional based evidence. So long as the new evidence is presented at a logical level it will only influence the conscious mind and not the subconscious mind (which is what controls beliefs and assumptions). Bottom line is they failed to use emotions to change the prior conditioned assumptions. - J.T. Jordan #CSDMind

[sassywingednightmare-blog]

You Are Not Alone

Dear Friends,

It has come to my attention how alone a lot of people feel, and how many of us have been reaching out through the internet to have that flash of company in our lives. In the spirit of unity, I’m going to share something with all of you.

I lost my parents before I was ready to.

I found myself surrounded by guilt, and wondering what I could have done differently, how I could have shown them more appreciation for the efforts they put into giving me a shot at making a life for myself. They were very sick for a long time, and in many ways, it was a relief to know that they were no longer suffering. At the same time, it ate me alive to feel that way.

You see, when I lost my mother, I had my father as a balm for the hurt of losing her. It was easier for me to keep walking forward with the knowledge that my father was still there to help hold me up. In the same hand, it sank in that my parents were human, mortal, and a part of mortality was death. I cleaved onto my father, using taking care of him as an excuse to ignore my fears of losing him. In many ways I used him as a security blanket. Things were okay as long as he was okay, at least in my mind.

However, I ended up stifling myself and turning myself into a caretaker, and as my parents were never stupid, I can’t imagine that my parents hadn’t seen what I had done. I can imagine how upset my father was that I was taking care of him when the only thing he ever really wanted for me was to be a fully functioning, self-actualizing, semi-content adult (that’s an exact quote by the way). 

My greatest fear was that I would leave, and my father would die.

This is exactly what happened. For many years after my father’s death I blamed myself for being so selfish as to do something for myself and leaving my father alone to perish. I knew that one of the things my father feared was dying alone, and regretted being unable to keep our family as a whole unit. In all honesty though, by the time everything was all said and done with all of the toxicity raised during our time through my parent’s divorce, it was better for all of us to garner some distance. Bringing this back around, I blamed myself for not only enacting and enabling my truest and deepest fear to come into fruition, but my father’s as well.

Except I didn’t.

I had no control over what happened, and I know now that it was more comfortable miring myself under misplaced guilt, than to accept that I had no control whatsoever.

Through my own experiences, and through watching the people around me, I learned that humans fool themselves into believing that we have more control than we actually do, and death, for all of our medical advancements, achievements and endeavors, we will never have control over.

That's terrifying.

Something in this world, a fact of life if you will, and we have no control over it? In many minds this is impermissible. This is a concept that many will never be able to let themselves even contemplate, let alone make some kind of peace with it. Oh well, it still remains. Additionally, many are unable to let themselves see the good parts of death.

Look, it only hurts when someone dies because you care about them. Not cared, care. I still care about my parents, relatives, and the friends I've lost. Their being dead hasn't changed that at all. In all reality though, I wouldn't be who I am if I hadn't made it through the loss, and who I am has placed me into a job I love, with an ambition to make it through school, and with friends who like me enough to put up with my idiosyncrasies. Sometimes, I'm barely scraping the bottom of actually living, and sometimes I'm barely taking care of myself, despite my animals always being taken care of and my bills being paid.

The hardest question I had to answer after my parents died was, what now?

I'm still figuring what the simplified question means in it's entirety. Fortunately, I have friends and co-workers who have no problem calling me on my bullshit. They care enough to know I'm better than I am, and remind me of it.

That good I was talking about? I used my parents and their sicknesses as a crutch to wire myself into a mold where I didn't have to take any risks, where I didn't have to take as much accountability as I should have, and where I didn't strive for anything, so I didn't have to fail. I was so fixed into this delusion that I didn't even realize I was doing it at the time.

I've since found out that I like failing.

Don't mistake me, I don't have some masochistic validation from falling on my face. Failure meant I was trying. I was working toward success, and frankly I've learned more about myself and what I'm capable of by failing, than I ever did by succeeding. Failing, meant when I succeeded at something that it was all the sweeter. Lessons I hadn't even known my parents had taught me were suddenly coming to the forefront, and I realized that even sitting in my house with no other humans around as I am now, even at 6:16 in the morning, I'm not alone at all.

The voices of the past echo ever into the future.

I found out that I want to be an Aunt my nephews can be proud of. I found out just how curious about the world I am. I found out I want my doctorate. I found out I want to be someone I can be proud of. I found out just how alone I'm not.

Descartes said: "I think therefore I am". I think that I still have a lot to learn.

In all honesty, I would not be learning at all if my parents were still here, if I was still barring myself into that self-sacrificing, martyring, maladaptive mold. I'm not responsible for the actions of those around me, and I will not blame myself for them. I am not at fault. My parent's deaths were not my doing. I am not alone.

I am responsible for my choices, my actions, my words, my life. I will always remember how the people in my life have touched it, and in turn, I will hope I have made a positive contribution to their lives.

Through hurting, failure, suffering, I have become someone who wants to be better.

Keep in mind, I still fail on a regular basis. I still mess up, accidentally hurt people, and fall on my face, but I take accountability for it, and I work to be better.

Many pass off the actions of those around them as "Fuck it, I don't care what people think".

I absolutely care what the people around me think. Don't get me wrong, this doesn't mean I'm going to take the opinion of a poisonous person into account and let it ruin anything I've worked towards. That's where discretion comes in.

I care what my best friend thinks, I care what my sister thinks, I care what my boss thinks. These are all people who have shown themselves to have a valid opinion, and even that has been through trial and error.

Now, to bring myself back to the original point. I'm sitting by myself, now 6:29 in the morning, no other humans around, and I'm not alone. I don't know who said you can be surrounded by a crowd, and still be alone, but that person, while very introspective, and deep thinking, is kind of depressing in my opinion when that quote is taken literally (not denying that there are other meanings for said quote, I'm taking it in a literal sense to make a point here). This saying comes down to perspective. If the voices in your head are constantly telling you one thing, but you want a different outcome, change your perspective! I'm not saying that every attempt is going to work out, but to change anything you have to keep working at it!

My boss, my best friend, my sister, all of them have drug themselves out of the swamp, but they had to keep trying to do it.

None of us have done this on our own. Don't get me wrong, if we hadn't put the work into it, nothing would have been accomplished, but if we didn't go actively looking for some kind of support we wouldn't have been able to weather the storm, even if that support came from voices of the past, even if that support came from their children as the motivation to do better.

So to everyone who has taken the time to read this, stop, look around, don't make excuses, and ask yourself if you are actually alone?

[maude-lebowski]

So straight up, possibly my #1 least fav personal thing of all time is when other people use MY disability as an excuse for something. It drives me fucking straight up INSANE, yo. INSANE. Ok like today - my mom and I were planning on going to the Women's March here in KC and had been planning so since it was announced whenever, yeah? And I was pumped AF, esp since I feel like there's always WAYYYY too little disability representation (or intersex, queer (esp outside binary/mainstream queer shit), etc) at pretty much any protest or movement or tbh just life in general. So then last night I was confirming for the millionth time the deets we'd agreed on for today and everything with the mom when suddenly she was all "Yeah, I'm sorry, but I just don't think it's gonna be able to happen." I asked why and she went on this long ramble about all about "the logistics of it all with your disability and wheelchair are just literally impossible." All of the "LITERALLY. IMPOSSIBLE. LOGISTICS." included: • Literally NO. WAY. to be able to find handicapped parking or any parking within even a remote distance that wouldn't end up being incredibly painful for me to have to traverse - and no we couldn't park elsewhere and just take public transport because obvs that would just be "WAY TOO PAINFUL FOR YOU ALLIE!!!" - and no Uber/Lyft/cab from other parking wasn't an option either because "STILL TOO PAINFUL!!! WHERE WOULD YOU CHAIR GO???" Totally ignoring that I've taken Uber like at least a couple dozen times since being in a chair with no prob and my chair can fit in a reg 4 door sedan no prob? • It's gonna be SO. CROWDED. and people are gonna bump into my leg and shit and it will be WAYYYYY TOO PAINFUL. • Just trying to traverse the crowd in general will hurt me SO. MUCH. *WAY* TOO. MUCH. • It's a Women's "March" which means moving and marching and there's just NO WAY I can be moving my chair that much without pain. I COULD NEVER EVER DO IT!!! There were a million other things too but her general conclusion was that -again, entirely according to her- it would just be ENORMOUSLY UNFAIR to even THINK about just ASKING me to partake in such an ENORMOUSLY PAINFUL activity and she just CANNOT in good conscience do such a TERRIBLE thing to ME no matter HOW UNBELIEVABLY BADLY **SHE** wants to attend. And I'm just over here like LMAOOOO BULLSHIT MOM, BUIUUUUUUULLLLLLLSSHHHIIIIIIIIIIIT. Because the reality is that all of her things are semi sorta legit to a degree - yes, parking is difficult, which is why Uber is perfect. And yes, it would honestly be extremely painful for me to do it all. But as I'd told her a million times before of my own accord (and as anyone in general who knows me even a little knows) I live my life in literal 24/7 pain no matter what, and I try my best not to let it hold me back from absolutely everything, so I pick and choose sacrifices. I pick and choose what's worth the extra pain, and then I prepare accordingly. And it's always worth it, be it a long drive, a full trip, a walk, a hike of some sorts, even once hiking up a mountain. All worth it. And this protest was DEFINITELY fucking worth it to me. I even saved up extra pain pills for today itself and subsequent days, and planned accordingly to be pretty much totally outta commission the rest of the week, even reorganizing shit to be prepared, that level of prepared. But what it was so unbelievably obviously that she'd decided that SHE didn't want to go. I don't know her reason why. Tbh, like imma be totally frank here, it's 99.99% likely because she was just fucking lazy, because MANDY. It's SO goddamn hard to even get her off the couch, let alone outta the house, tho god knows I try constantly. (And have been succeeding pretty damn well the occasional here and there, mind you, and she's always SO happy she did the things - it's just literally ever actually getting her to do them, lol.) But she may have had a legitimate reason. I don't know. Because she couldn't own it and used me as her reason instead. And there were several legitimate reasons I can think of immediately that would have been 100% acceptable as to why we couldn't go, not one of which involved my disability from my perspective. But no, it was still easier to scapegoat me than to use those for some reason. And in the process of how she did it she also managed to attempt to put an enormous amount of guilt into me - as if she were the one truly dying to go and not me, and as if she were making this enormous sacrifice of her great desire for my sake, martyring herself, and how I should be SO incredibly thankful. And straight up, that's honestly just so fucking manipulative and frankly straight up emotionally abusive, imo. But I am I suppose kinda proud of myself (my therapist tells me to tell this to myself more often, lol) because I think I handled it decently well, actually. Like I was extremely polite, never even raised my voice or got angry at all. I simply very calmly explained why I would be fine, gave my solution to each problem, and laid the whole thing out, all very respectfully. And when I realized it wasn't going to matter, I just went ahead and gave up and let it go, because I knew there was no point. And yeah tbh I'm pretty fucking furious and sad inside because I not only missed out on something I cared incredibly deeply about (and this is far from the first thing, esp politically related thing), but I'm also deeply hurt at how completely used I feel. But I think I handled it maturely. I hope I did? But yeah, I guess this can be filed under "Ways People Weaponize My Disability Against Me". Which is a real problem for disabled folks btw that not only most able bodied folks remain totally clueless of, but more than not actively participate in. //EndRant