#when i went in last

[soggypotatoes]

remember when I was so mentally ill I was in hospital for 10 weeks (and they only let me go bc my health insurance stopped paying) and I got so unhealthily obsessed with 1 nurse I would sit by the nurses station for all her shifts and draw pictures of her and even SLEEP on the bench by the nurses station when my new meds were knocking me out and write weird poetry and

and she's like, she's just sort of, she's a very regular person, prob in her 40s? polar opposite of me in every way, we even went on a walk and every time I pointed out a plant I liked she was like ':/ we can have different tastes it's fine' and had v different opinions about animals and such

but like, she spent most of a Sunday with me brainstorming keeping on top of tasks at home (the nurses rly don't do that they're very busy!) and she was the only one who read the note in my file about how being woken up is triggering so on morning shifts she'd just stand in my room and talk to me instead of waking me up like the other nurses did

and when I'd put off seeing a gastroenterologist for literal years (I'd been in and out of there for most of this time so she knew this) and her being like 'edwina. call them' is what made me actually do it

and whenever I was on leave she'd call me like immediately after my return time to tell me I was late

IDK MAN LIKE. I'm thinking about it. bc I was so WEIRD about it, there was no reason for me to fixate on her that much, I was DREAMING about her. it wasn't a crush it was some other beast, I dunno. she came to check on me during therapy and she wasn't on screen but my therapist was immediately like 'was that [nurse]' bc whenever I was interrupted I'd get annoyed but when she did I was like 🥰🥰🥰🥰 sorry I'm in therapy rn is it important? 🥰🥰🥰🥰

idk why I'm remembering this. I guess I just like that old feeling of obsession, it's so rare and it hits so randomly nowadays, and doesn't last long. that 10 weeks was a nightmare (I attempted suicide after I got out lol) but I think about my unhealthy fixation on this random nurse with fondness

[napping-sapphic]

take your clothes off and get on the bed what no we aren’t having sex right now we’re cuddling and pressing every inch of skin together as close as possible for the next six hours

[inkskinned]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[keferon]

Let me tell you their duo WASNT something I expected to see. Like. Ever. Oh my god ahahaha

[alexanderpearce]

i dont care the close friends instagram stories are getting posted to tumblr because this is making me lose my mind

[basslinegrave]

pin-up

b&w originals

[turtletoria]

the krampus incident from the book of bill if it was out of character and stupid

[hinamie]

*catboys ur shounen protag*

[soapyakships]

Where is the ♡?

[reds-skull]

Christmas comic in October? It's more likely than you think.

Also I would die for young Kyle and Simon

[dazzelmethat]

Here is a weirder mashup that I thought could work. Praying mantis blue heron. When I think of animals similar to a praying mantis I can only think of the stalking and snagging approach of water birds. Maybe in a world with huge praying mantises they can also fill that niche.

It's a series now! ; Cricket-cat, Weevil-anteater

[uncharted-constellations]

These two have such a funny vibe, had to take Zelda out of half their games because you know she’d just be telepathically negging him the whole time. Theyre besties, theyre potentially related, she’s mentally whispering ‘Sandwich’ in his ear whenever he’s trying to focus.

Edit: Added funny page in celebration of me not having to rework these designs for the new game

[uncanny-tranny]

Once you stop thinking about queer people's labels as strict indications of what's in their pants and who they do/don't bed and instead view queer people's labels as how they interact with the world, you'll find that you'll get along with queer people better and treat them better, I think.

[latenightsundayblues]

Fucking love the final flashback montage in saw VI because the way they edited it makes it look like hoffman is pissing directly on an unconscious erickson's bald head

Ive been cry laugghing for five fucking minutes

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, still on this live-stream: Did your students ask about me?

Steve, genuinely confused: No, why would they do that?

Eddie: Becau-

Eddie: Because I’m famous.

Steve: I don’t think your music is popular with kid. They like Taylor Swift.

Eddie, a little weak: But- but your students last year. They thought I was cool.

Steve: Well, yeah. ‘Course they do. You’re married to me!

Steve: These are new kids. They don’t even think I’m cool. But they will!

Steve: Think you’re cool. Not me. They just don’t know you yet.

Eddie:

Eddie: Take me to work with you

Steve: No, babe.

[macbcth]

Lu Guang’s phone passcode being Cheng Xiaoshi’s death date will never not fuck me up