Too old to photograph dolls and have celebrity crushes. Too me to care -- most of the time.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
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Even though I've gained a job, two more dogs and a few fandoms, I still doubt that I did the right thing not ending it after the 2016 election.
And even if it seems likely we won't have Fascist Grover Cleveland, there's still the fact that thanks to menopause there's more AND less to me than there was before, that the qualities that gave me purpose in life no longer exist, that my coping skills are worn to a nub, and that as soon as the, ahem, "investment company" that owns where I work decides it's time to downsize, a barely stable woman this close to 60 will be first for the chop. I was underemployed for 10 years after my first layoff; I might as well not bother once there's a second.
And then what is there? Annoying my husband, who loves me but wishes I weren't "stuck in an echo chamber" while his echo chamber says I'm hysterical, Project 2025 is tin-foil-hat stuff and election day is "just another regime change." Among other things.
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It's the boy band! (Ages 63 to 26, but whoever heard of a "man band"?)
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Stephen kisses his biceps.
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This one is long (but I didn't use the full song). In fact, I didn't think I'd be able to post it.
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Reductio gave me the BEST music for this year's Zepeto Halloween video.
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Today's delicious lesson
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Apparently the universe is no longer speaking to me.
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Meitu AI turns Gjon’s Tears into Nemo.
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the verticals vs the horizontals is tomorrow
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Dance, gentlemen.
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Mood.
Why did I do this.
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So much of myself that gave me purpose has died that I wish the rest of me would follow. Especially if Fascist Grover Cleveland happens next month.
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