cleaning along desire paths

Fantastic advice!! And something I’ve realized I’ve been doing for myself these last 6-7 years, even though I never had a name for it.

Seriously, this is such a great way to go about organizing your home.

I really can’t express how much easier your life can be when you accept that there’s no objectively right way to do this kind of stuff, especially when you let go of the idea that it’s a moral failure when you can’t do something the “correct way” nor is it evidence of you being lazy.

Working with (leaning into) your natural limits and instincts can do wonders for you in your day-to-day life.

if yall ever want like serious advice from me about how to solve burnout as a creative it's like...

literally ignore it. stop pushing. go do something else, enjoy your life, fill it with other things, do what brings you joy in the moment if you can.

go to the gym, take a walk to touch grass and look at dogs and smell flowers, cook dinner, watch tv with your friends, talk about your feelings as needed with ppl you trust, take a drive and blast your music, do the chores you need to do, the job hunting slog you need to do, read books that aren't for research, stop cordoning off your brain for The Craft or The Draft or whatever the fuck

forget about the project, stop thinking about it for as long as it takes to be excited again.

fuckin rest, basically

reiterating this--

stop pushing. stop blaming yourself for not working on creative stuff enough, stop tormenting yourself. remove all pressure and expectation. it'll be done whenever, you'll work on it whenever. who the fuck knows when that is, but it'll happen when it's ready.

stop doing shit that feels bad. do stuff that makes you happy and relaxed.

at a certain level of spoon usage from job, chores, errands, socialization and basic maintenance there will just Not Be Anything Left for your projects for awhile.

you have to let it build back up and then take your time getting back into it organically as it comes.

hope this helps someone else, bc I have learned it the hard-headed stubborn-ass fish-thrashing-in-a-net way and it's been agonizing.

Great advise in general but always hits the wall when art IS your job.

Reblogging in case anyone needs this

this is just part 1. Yes. There's more. There's a lot. I almost died. But my brain wouldn't leave me alone part 2

and here's part 2! the brain rot was so strong i had to draw post-canon part 1

Devastating to have more evidence that done IS better than perfect

Additionally, findings indicate that the act of doing shows you that you were not seeking perfection, you were fearing inadequacy

@grey-and-lavender

Good news! There is!

Bad news! It is called 'done'

✨ fuck ✨

The great thing about huge declarations is that the most times you're ever going to have to deliver on them is ONCE. And even that is vanishingly unlikely. The dishes happen every day. My feet hurt now. The kids need a lift to piano lessons every week. The grenade is hypothetical.

Let's talk about how cute/funny their banter always is

#One details fandom flattens out too much for my liking is that Enid can verbally spar with Wednesday #She doesn't feel obliged to do it all that often but that's a choice thing not a lack of ability thing.

Preserving @tumblingxelian​’s tags.

much in the same way that i think charlie overcompensates with excessive pacifism, i think vaggie overcompensates with excessive submission. i've long held the belief that charlie is painfully, intimately aware of her own capacity for violence, and comes down so aggressively on the side of docility and non-confrontation because she's desperately tamping down on that side of her, the side that she doesn't want to feed, doesn't want to be.

but vaggie is a little different. vaggie knows exactly what cruelties she's capable of, and she is not only declawed by her own shame, she also doesn't trust herself to make any decisions anymore, at least not any decisions that are separate from charlie's desires. so she overcompensates by dedicating her every action and intention to charlie. chaggie would nearly be a 24/7 d/s dynamic if charlie was aware of Just How Much vaggie considers herself in service to charlie. this doesn't mean she blindly supports charlie's every whim, but it does mean that even her dissent is still framed in her mind as another facet of loyalty to charlie's vision, that she might disagree with how charlie goes about doing things, but her ultimate goal is still to always help charlie get what she wants. "i'm supposed to protect you, i'm supposed to never fail you—if i can't help you, what's the point of me?" this startles and disturbs charlie to hear, and rightfully so, since charlie has been seeing their relationship as perfectly equal while vaggie seems to see it as a kind of unspoken vassalhood, which is not something i think charlie fully understands, if it all, even by the end of episode 7

the point being, both charlie and vaggie are holding themselves back all of the time, constantly. while charlie keeps her sharp edges messily tucked away, pretending they don't exist even though everyone can see them peaking out from under the closet door, vaggie is continuously grinding down her claws with sandpaper and then almost throwing up with self loathing every time they grow back, out of terror that charlie might see

ive said it before and i'll say it again but carrying a weapon does not make you safer, it gives the person assaulting you a free weapon. i know we live in a time where fear is profitable and the cute pink stun guns make feminism sexy but they do not work like you think they do.

there is an extremely slim chance you will be able to deploy the pepper spray/taser/gun in a way that does not harm you at all. pepper spray blows back, guns miss, tasers slip. there is a much much larger chance things go poorly and you end up getting hurt worse than originally intended because now your assailant is pissed and more heavily armed.

im not talking out my ass here, i'm a case manager at a homeless shelter for addicts. we have a lot of violent behavior. none of our staff carry any sort of weapons. we are trained to de-escalate or remove ourselves from the situation. i have worked there over two years without being harmed despite intervening in many fights and having weapons pulled on me.

there is safety in numbers. there is safety in well lit streets and staying on your phone and knowing when to scream and run. there is no safety in "personal defense items".

With JoAnne Fabrics going out of business I feel it is my duty as a cosplayer, historical costumer, and general sewing gremlin to help teach y'all how not to be reliant on evil overpriced mediocre big box stores for fabric and cosplay supply, cause if I catch y'all going into Homophobia Lobby to get cosplay fabrics imma have to start throwing hands. And frankly you guys all deserve better.

- Find a neighborhood full of brown people. Probably a slightly poorer neighborhod. I know, I know, but they will have small independent fabric stores. Selection in each may vary. Hispanic and Caribbean areas will give you prints that EAT. Muslim areas will give you fabrics with amazing drapery. Indian and Southeast Asian areas will give you beading that would make the House of Worth wet with envy. (Try to avoid oldwhitelady quilting stores unless you are a knitter or are specifically trying to cosplay Kirsten Larson.) (Also ask while you're there for lunch/dinner spot recommendations. Your fabric store guy usually has a buddy with a joint nextdoor with the best *insert relevant ethnic food here* you'll ever put in your mouth.)

- DEVELOP A RELATIONSHIP WITH THE OWNER OF SAID STORE. This I cannot stress enough. Abdul, my fabric guy, can and will get me whatever I want cause he knows me, knows I bring in other young people, and knows I will be back every month for more. Indie fabric stores tend to have older clients. They are anxious to see faces under 60. Just chat with whoever is in there about the kind of stuff you want and need and they will help you. This also frequently leads to discounts. I have not paid listed price for fabric in years and just walked out of Abdul's with 7~ yards of gorgeous teal satin for 10 bucks. Not a yard. Total.

- Do not be afraid of mess. The best shit comes from stores that look like a hurricane went through them. Don't try to understand the organization. (One day, 4 years into your relationship with the store, suddenly the fabric gods will reveal the knowledge to you.) Again, talk to whoever is in there about your project. They'll help.

- Give up on one stop shopping. Get your crafting supplies elsewhere. Like a small independent hardware store. There's usually an old guy in there that reminds you of an uncle who will also help you.

-Worbla and whatever other Cosplay Specific Material you're using is a fatphobic material straight from Satan's hot taint, you do not need it, and any old hardware/tractor supply dad will help you find better, more durable armor/weapon/detailing material. Don't snub your nose at paper mache and plaster of paris. Venetian Mask makers have been using it for years. Balsa wood is also your friend. Hardware store Uncles will teach you to work with both.

- Elderly people are your bffs. If you see an old person TALK TO THEM. They know how to do all kinds of shit. I know there's a hesitation around old people because of the political climate and a fear that they may be homo/trans/whatever-phobic, but hey....minds are changed by making friends. My elderly Muslim fabric supplier is an Our Flag Means Death fan because of me gushing about the teal I needed for Stede Bonnet. He wishes me happy pride now. He put bolt of rainbow in the window in June and kept it up all summer. And he'd never had a thought about queers before me.

- Don't feel limited to Craft and Fabric stores. Hardware stores are cool. They stock outdoor fabrics and umbrella and furniture covers that are very durable....my first cosplay was made out of patio furniture covers. Also upholstery stores and upholsterers have velvets and damasks and faux leather and real leather and all sorts of rich textures. Most of them will part with a few yards pretty cheap. Second hand sheets and bedspreads and curtains also make some really cool garments. A significant amount of my ren fair garb started as household goods.

- If you are forced to order fabric online, please for the love of all that is holy DO NOT BUY FROM MOOD or any other famous store. You're paying for their branding and their place on certain reality shows I will not mention. Indie is always cheaper for the quality and usually not abusing their workers.

- If the fabric/hobby/hardware/upholstery/etc store you develop a relationship with is inconveniently far from you, see if said owner is willing to take your order via phone and send it to you. You'd be surprised how accommodating people in the crafting and sewing world can be.

It all really comes down to having to form a community. I know finding multiple small stores is a lot less convenient than Joannes. But forming a relationship with a local supplier will, in the long run, yield you much better results AND put money and good back into a community near you.

So I reblogged that “vaccines cause adults” post from @copperbadge and predictably my inbox has gone to shit with a handful of people asking me how I can “trust” vaccines and if you’re looking for me validate your fear mongering over vaccines causing autism, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place.

I’m the bitch that has anaphylactic reactions to vaccines due to my mast cell disorder and still turn up for my Covid booster shots with my epi pen in one hand and a fistful of Benadryl in the other.

I had reactions to all my MMR boosters and every other booster I’ve ever needed and I still show up because I look at the choices and I prefer the risk of potential immediate death over potentially getting shit like measles and spreading it to the wider community.

The only one I don’t get is the flu shot because the speed at which I react is terrifying and it’s in my file that I’m not allowed it anymore. Doctors made that decision for me, I didn’t.

My MCAS might make me a crunchy hippy dippy bitch against my will, but I’m a science based crunchy hippy dippy bitch and vaccines do not cause autism.

Measles will fucking kill your kid though.

I've told this story before but the non-negotiable in allyship really reminded me of my gaming group. So one of my best friends is a twin and while I know *her* pretty well I don't really know her brother as well despite knowing him for roughly same length of time. We play videogames together and her brother asked to join us so at some point I took him aside and had The Talk with him because we at that point had a recently out trans fem within the group and she had just barely started hormones and hadn't done any voice training etc so I fully intended to head any trouble off at the pass.

So I basically had the "respect my friend's pronouns or die by my sword" discussion because while he knows I'm a trans guy and had so far been chill, I didn't know if that extended to all trans people.

What I did not expect was for him to pull an uno reverse on me and invite his two trans woman friends to game with us as well and did a "no no, *you* respect *my* friends' pronouns or die by *my* sword".

When I was working at Petco, one of my coworkers came to me having a total panic and anxiety meltdown and when I finally got them to tell me what was going on, the revealed they had sought me out because they were having Transgender Feelings and wanted advice. I ended up giving them my old binders that were too small for me but a perfect fit for them, and one of my roommates gave them their first masc haircut.

A few weeks later a customer speaking Spanish was saying many nasty things about my coworker and reacting with disgust. Another coworker- a cis gay man who speaks fluent Spanish- came to get me first so I could pull the other coworker away while he effectively cussed them out in Spanish. He told us the sparknotes version of the English translation and it was mostly horrifically transphobic drivel. My coworker had responded mostly neutrally to me being trans, but for him to be visibly steamed the rest of the day over my other coworker definitely bumped my respect for him.

And I've talked about how a cis lesbian friend of mine visibly bristles at anyone she even thinks is being shitty to me about being trans to the point of making them splutter and back down.

A cishet woman I am only sort of acquaintances with once caught me wincing at being she/her'd at a trial and asked if that had been happening all day. When I responded the affirmative, she stormed off and I didn't see her the rest of the day. The next day, any time anyone referred to me there was an audible pause before a deliberate choice to choose masc versions.

Another trans woman who is a friend of mine once beat up a bully for calling her trans boyfriend a heshe when they were in schooling together.

It's about holding the line. It's about making the active choice to show up for each other. And it's about linking hands and refusing to budge.

If you cannot hold the line with me by your side, then we are not moving together.

Because it is the anniversary of his death, I wanted to share a small story about my grandfather.

Before I knew that I was intersex, I identified as a trans man. And I went the way any trans man has to go if he wants to transition in my country. My parents thankfully were supportive but I was afraid to tell my grandparents. My grandparents were German and lived/were raised during the third reich. While both of them never said or acted in a way that suggested that they had fascist views (my grandfather was until he died part of a leftwing political party), but there still was this fear in me. "They are old, they grew up surrounded by abhorrent beliefs...". And then there was my aunt. Who would constantly claim that my grandfather was homophobic.

The problem was, back then, there were no openly out gay people in our area, so I never got the chance to see my grandfather interact with someone who was queer. So I just believed her. Because she was so insistent on it. And because it confirmed my fears and my brain loves to be constantly afraid.

But I knew I wanted to come out. I had to, eventually, because I had stopped my estrogen treatment (back then, I did not know that I got that because I was intersex) and went on testosterone instead and first physical changes began to show. We all lived in one big house, so my grandparents would eventually notice.

I was so afraid that my father at some point offered to talk to his parents. I waited outside in the hallway that led to their kitchen and listened.

My father explained, easy to understand, that I was going to transition from female to male because I felt terrible in my body. My grandfather asked, "Is that why the child* is so depressed all this time?" I had been in and out of multiple clinics for manic depression at that point. My father gave a yes. And my grandmother made the incredibly selfish comment, "Can't that wait until I am dead?"

Before I even got time to be upset, my grandfather slammed his fist down on the table. I had never seen or heard him do anything like that before. He was a very calm and collected man who preferred to leave the room before he got too angry. "No, it can't wait. The child gets to get well now. And if that is what is going to help, then it needs to be done."

From that day on, he never used my deadname again or used the wrong pronouns for me. Sometimes, he would stop in a sentence to think and remind himself, but he did always address me correctly.

He celebrated with me when my name was legally changed. He built the bed frame for me and my boyfriend's bed when we moved in together, just like he had built the first adult sized bedframe for me when I outgrew my small bed. He drove my boyfriend to his chemo sessions because my grandfather also had cancer and knew how terrifying it was to go alone.

Did he fully understand what it means to be intersex? To transition? No. But he understood that one of his loved ones was suffering and that he could help to alleviate that pain. And so he did.

He taught me calligraphy. He taught me how to sew. He taught me bookbinding. He gave me many gifts.

But the biggest gift he gave me was, that when someone hated me for what I am, I could stomach it. Because this man was willing to unlearn the bigotry he had been taught for decades so he could love me for who I am.

*in my grandpa's dialect it was normal to refer to children as just 'the child' (genderless)

there is something so crazy and powerful about having art of your oc that was made by anyone other than yourself. like oh my god you actually exist outside of my own brain that's WILD