As a hypermobile person sometimes I’ll stand up and just feel something move or snap in/out of place inside my body and I just have to continue living my life, telling myself “if it was important it would probably hurt more”
lots of times if I tell my boyfriend that I am proud of him for dealing with a situation, or that I’m sorry he’s having to deal with a situation, he will say “no it’s my own fault.” meaning that he feels like he doesn’t deserve praise or comfort for dealing with a situation that is his fault. (for example a financial problem caused or exacerbated by him having been too anxious or absentminded to deal with the situation sooner.) and I tell him this and I will tell y'all this, that I don’t believe that. I think you are even braver and stronger for taking steps to deal with a mess that is of or partly of your own creation, because you have to cope with guilt and shame on top of the thing itself, and because you’re fighting against the same ingrained dysfunction in yourself that caused the mess. that’s like the bravest and most constructive thing you can do and you should be proud and I am proud of you.
i’ll tell you what converted me to being all-in on keeping cats indoors only:
living for a year and a half in a rural area with a sudden feral cat colony explosion on the property.
i moved in with my folks for a bit and at that time, one (1) stray cat mama had taken up residence on the property, but was too feral to let my mother anywhere near her. but especially after she brought three kittens around, mom fed her and the kittens in hopes they’d grow trusting enough she could catch for spay and neuter at the minimum. momcat stayed mean and hella wary, but the kittens would hang around a little nearer and play with my mom via long stick, but still wouldn’t come close enough to touch or catch.
unfortunately, two of the three kittens were girls and started having kittens of their own before further progress was made, shortly after i moved in. and that was pretty much instant doom.
there were so many kittens. SO MANY. multiple litters. every time we turned around, more kittens.
we fed them. we hunted for and located the kittens every time anywhere on the property and would move them to a repurposed doghouse anytime a mama cat had them somewhere else, so that they could grow up human-socialized and we could spay/neuter them when they were old enough. (also it was a handy tactic to push the issue of the mamas getting more used to/trusting of us themselves. only really worked with one of them, though.)
and we watched them die.
we watched litter after litter of kittens never make it to the age they could be spayed or neutered. the moms stayed, for the longest time, too skittish to more than briefly touch, much less catch and crate for a vet visit.
it sounds like a silly joke to say i have kitten-related ptsd, but i absolutely do.
too many goddamn times i’d walk out of the garage and find the carport and gravel drive strewn with tiny bodies. others simply went missing, never to be found.
one in particular, i wish i hadn’t found, and the visual literally haunts me still, almost a decade later.
i saw so many kittens die of snake bite, spider bite, wild dogs, birds of prey, hit by cars, respiratory illness, covered in fleas and eyes crusted with infection.
and we loved them all. scrimped for antibiotics if the vet could be convinced to give it to us despite our being unable to bring them in. bought flea collars and ointments. we cared for them and fed them and petted them and played with them, brushed their fur and cleaned up their little faces, put ice in their water in hot summer, rigged a heating lamp in their house in the winter.
and they died. horribly. that property is pocked with unmarked graves of kittens and cats.
all the best intentions, not enough resources, and it didn’t matter anyways because the population went from three to almost twenty (at times, over thirty) in the blink of an eye.
they died and died and died. our hearts broke over and over again. the stress and anxiety wore us down like sandpaper. i think, by the end of it all, we managed to find less than 10 of them all homes, including batman the disabled kitten i found a home across the country through tumblr.
it was carnage and tragedy, frankly. and we were helpless.
it only ended because they started dying faster than they could be born, and because we finally caught the two remaining mom cats in traps and got them spayed.
the points about outdoor cats being invasive predators devastating to local wildlife populations is true and valid and important.
but i know cat people, and cat people who don’t know better than to let cats outdoors. what matters to you is the cat itself, generally. the cat being happy and taken care of.
keeping cats outdoors, letting them outdoors, is not taking care of the cats. it’s not protecting them. it’s not giving them any happiness or invigoration that couldn’t be provided to them as indoor-only pets with just a little research and effort.
they die. they get ill. they get hurt. they’re at risk of predators, and cars, and disease, and carelessly cruel children and deliberately cruel adults. they’re at risk of disappearing on you because someone else saw a cat outdoors and intervened to give it a better, safer life not in conflict with the local environment.
and if that offends and angers you that someone would just take a cat they saw roaming outdoors, even collared, and that it sounds like i’m endorsing that, i am, but not if you intervene and be that person yourself for your own cat.
if what matters to you is doing right by your cat because it’s family and a living creature whose happiness and health and safety is important to you,
keep them indoors. not part time. always. exclusively.
when you’re younger you make fun of it because it seems boring but one of the best parts of getting older and maturing is recognizing how simply lovely all that cliche shit is. sunsets really are so endlessly satisfying. the hint of lilacs in the breeze really is soft and delicate and sweet. sometimes it feels good just to successfully clean the sink, to find an affordable appliance in the color you’ve been wanting, to try a new recipe, to finally get through that one television series like how you’ve been meaning.
it seemed stupid because they tell you - it’ll feel quick - but it does feel quick. when i was younger it was like time was molasses. i couldn’t get out of there fast enough. all the eras of my life stretched out into taffy. but then you are 29 on a walk with a friend and you both just stop to smell the lily of the valley at your feet. you are both standing there, quiet, enjoying the simple moment of peace.
they say it gets better a lot, which used to have no meaning to me. better for me was undefined and daunting. but here is one way it got better without me trying - a few days ago i was walking my dog and stopped to stand in a sunbeam, turning my cheeks up at the shaft of golden fairylights, the dustmotes in the wood all shivering their little dancing bodies. a stranger stopped and kind of cocked her head and said basking? and i laughed nervously, already moving to get out of her way. instead, she said can i bask with you? and we stood there, full adults, a soundless hum in our chest. when the clouds came back over the sun, we made that awkward small talk - yeah i didn’t expect it to be this chilly! and haha spring allergies are comin’.
and you pour yourself a cup of tea and are delighted when you measure the sugar ratio perfectly and you manage to parallel park correctly on the first time (probably because nobody was looking) and yoga really did help your lower back mobility and brown paper packages really do tug on your heartstrings and you love sweaters and furry blankets and watching your little potted plants grow one new and shining leaf and you want to find your younger self and say. yes, i am nostalgic for summers that bent like wheat and were buzzing with low energy and sleep. but darling. adulthood gets better because the time condenses into a prayerbook of your own psalms, these tender beautiful memories. it gets better because things become prettier, gentler, kinder to you - somehow. without you even noticing. you just get to the top of the hill and you realize - oh, this is the thing i’ve been missing.
One of the best parts of the Mass Effect fandom is when an 800 lb. alien experiment came out of the tank that raised him to be the ultimate killing machine and held us up by our throat before speaking his first words in the digitally-deepened voice of Steve Blum - a middle-aged man who, respectfully, sounds like he gargles cigarettes - we all looked at that and collectively said:
“MY SON. MY BABY BOY. It’s hard being a parent but it’s a role I accept DO YOU NEED JUICE BOXES MY LARGE CHILD???”
it’s just that sometimes you have to love a thing including the ways that it inconveniences you like i keep picking dog hair out of my clothes because he steals things from my laundry basket to lay on them while i’m gone and whenever i use my laptop i have to type with my arms in a parabola to make room for his head on my legs and yes it’s kind of a far ride to my mom’s house but she always remembers to have dairy-free options available just in case i stop at home and nick lives in another timezone so we have to plan our calls carefully to be sure he’s available and i’m not in bed and i hate driving and looking for parking but it means i get to visit my friends and i hate doing dishes but i’ll do a million if it means i get to throw a dinner party for everybody and i hate being cold but one time we stood outside in the snow for 5 hours waiting for a concert, bundled up and red-nosed
i always apologize about the ways i take up space even when they’re medical like at a restaurant i usually have to take the moment to say i really am allergic, sorry, and feel like i am making everyone around me angry and i always apologize when i am too tired to be funny or when i actually really do need to take care of my human body because it feels like i’m making everything about-me and i always apologize for the ways that i become needy; how i get scared when we’re high up (and no for real please get down it actually kind of stops being funny) or how i panic if i hear a loud noise i wasn’t expecting or how it’s been years but there are days when i’m still doing the same shit, still drowning
the trick about relaxing, i think. like the answer to why i couldn’t trust the idea anyone actually likes me. was realizing that at some point i am going to be an inconvenience, which means that at some point i need to trust other people want me to take up space. and yes, some people have to take up a lot of space. but. i relish this little gratitude: making room for people and things in my life. i love picking the dog hairs out of my food - it means i get to have a dog. i love answering the phone at 3 in the morning - it means someone is on the other line, and i can help them weave through life. i love the little chores - it means i have something productive to do. so what if you take up space - it means this world gets to have you.
how is the kentucky derby not trending on here?? the horse with the lowest odds wins and immediately starts biting everything in its sight, that sounds like a tumblr legend to me
oh my fucking god
This horse wasn’t even supposed to be in the race. Horse number 20 (can’t remember it’s name) dropped out the day before for whatever reason, and Rich Strike was just barely able to sneak a spot into the derby before the deadline. Not to mention that this was just some garbage $30,000 horse that didn’t have any kind of impressive breeding (yes I am aware $30k is still a lot, but for a Kentucky Derby horse, that’s chump change). He was the second biggest upset in the history of the Derby, with one other horse (Donerail) winning with 91-1 odds before in 1913 (Which, for reference, I’m pretty sure Donerail with his 91-1 odds still holds the record for the worst odds in the history of the race. Just for context of how shit Rich Strike’s 80-1 odds were. Not THE worst, but definitely up there).
I am in love with this shit horse who wasn’t even supposed to be there, had some of the worst odds in the history of the race, and had the worst starting position who completely destroyed all of the favorites to win. Watching him come up to first right at the last second was THRILLING.
This story is fucking hilarious
So Rich Strike has barely won a race, but he ALWAYS shoots up in the last stretch. He goes from 11th to 4th, from 8th to 3rd. Rich Strike hits the final corner and suddenly gets flashbacks to his previous life as a Klingon warrior. He starts snarling curses and heads for the finish line like it insulted his ancestors and must PAY, that’s just how he runs races
And this was a blisteringly fast time for the Kentucky Derby- one of the fastest races EVER. When the announcer realized the time when they hit the halfway point he was like “Jesus CHRIST” It was incredible. Which means the lead horses, the favorites, were sprinting as hard as they could the entire race. By the time they got to the end they were exhausted
And here comes Rich Strike, turns the last corner and his vision goes red. The lead horses can’t pick up the final sprint like usual- they already ARE going flat out. Rich Strike comes up on the inside, NOT exhausted by fighting for the lead spot, howling “DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR” like the complete fucking lunatic he is and just blows past everyone
He’s ready to kill. He wants to tear into some Romulans and destroy the Federation, and he wins everything
Then the guy on horseback whose job it is to help slow the running horses down after they cross the finish line comes up and Rich Strike LOSES HIS SHIT
He bites the other horse, he bites the rider, he bites himself. He’s like “oh you think you can slow ME down?! I’LL KILL YOU. QAPLA!”
He’s completely insane and I love him
Hail to the KING. I watched this happen on TV last year, Best shit i have ever seen and the only time I have cared about the Kentucky derby.
He screams out of nowhere with the fires of hell at his hooves, and the audience started BOOING THIS HORSE as he went to collect his roses. A thousand rich fucks mad as hell, hating the guts of this insane rando who has ruined their party. Huge Lokasenna energy (look this up lol).
eye-opening tumblr post for me included the words “people are meant to be burdens” as in humans rely on and support one another and it’s not a bother it’s our purpose; to love and be loved in return. so if you ever think you’re being annoying just remember we were made to love and it’s going to be okay
i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.
and that should be fine; but it’s never fine.
i am a pretty decent artist; but i can’t just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can’t just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.
for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i’m embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i’m too lazy. maybe i’m broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.
we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn’t that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn’t even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it’s always something with you, and it never actually means anything.
i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i’ll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just… stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it’ll look in my monthly budget. what if i can’t even produce a good enough final product. sure, it’s exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i’m just polluting the earth if i don’t get it right. better not bother. better not try.
restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don’t have the time to just put to waste.
