Greetings! This blog is mainly a vent blog that also doubles as a personal blog. If not for the numerous untagged posts where I shout into the void, then you'll mostly find me within the DRDT tags, as well as the occasional post here and there in mental health ones.
Additional Info / "FaQ":
— No, I do not have an art account I can redirect you to, and I am not interested in having an online presence as an artist. I hate making art, actually. I don't draw shit for IRL purposes. My majors are solely english and economics for a reason.
— I'm a fictive that deals with a lot of vivid faux memories, ones that frequently have very little in common with my source, as they take place under more "mundane" circumstances. If any of the art I post ever felt out of left field to you, that's -- probably why.
——> On that note, I am prone to heavy, heavy bias when discussing my source, which I try to account for, but slip-ups are inevitable, so take opinions with a grain of salt. For the same reason I try my best to avoid talking about David, but -- with varying success. Turns out it's a little difficult to talk about DRDT without talking about the elephant in the room.
— Feel free to talk to me even if I don't follow you!
No, seriously: I follow like five blogs at best, because I keep forgetting that it's a function that exists, as I just sit inside tags instead of the dashboard anyhow.
——> That said, please contact me either through asks or comments, as I despise Tumblr's buggy "direct messages" function. If you're looking for a more lengthy interaction, I'll gladly give you my discord tag.
— As far as text posts are concerned, I don't tag any triggers. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's just not going to happen. I'll also not be tagging any "ships" for the artworks I post, as already the mere idea of it feels insulting to me.
You're free to tag my posts with whatever you like within your reblogs; I couldn't possibly care less. I'm just not going to tag them as such myself on my own blog.
——> I'm sure this is very upsetting for anyone who is looking to filter out certain content, but quite frankly I suggest you make use of the block button. Alternatively, if you do want to see my illustrations but don't want to deal with the venting -- just unfollow me and keep an eye out on the public DRDT tags; almost all of my artworks can be found there, with few exceptions where I didn't feel like it'd be appropriate.
— Speaking of art. Do whatever you want with my drawings.
I genuinely couldn't care less. No, I Do Not Care about credit, either. You can save them, use them, edit them, sell them, burn them — who cares. I don't.
— On the note of "I Don't Care"; this blog has no DNI. That's final. Don't try to make me care about declaring X or Y, for I already do enough performative shit IRL and I quite frankly am not interested in doing that on a vent blog, too. I may hate myself, but not enough to invest energy in something so very pointless.
— Furthermore on "I Don't Care"; yes, this extends to whatever Fandom No-Go's you can think of. I'm not paid enough (/at all) to care about whatever the fuck other people draw or write. Jturo didn't kill your grandma; get over it.
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Other people work to earn themselves a rewarding break. But when every aspect of life is nothing but work to me, what reward am I hoping to cash in? It'd be absurd to treat death as a break, for I'd not be conscious to experience it, ergo I'm left without any true reimbursement.
It's funny; to ruminate over the meaning of life is nothing new, but when everyone else does as much, usually it's of a much more profound nature, discussing things such as purpose and impact. My thoughts couldn't be more superficial; what do I derive from living? What's my benefit from existence?
A particular acquaintance of mine would be sure to lecture me on how life itself is the precious reward, but if that's the case, I fear all investment analyses agree this product comes with a contribution margin far beneath zero.
Don't mind me, you don't understand, I've had absolute zero privacy for over four days straight so it's a small blessing I get to ramble on this stupid blog for a bit before it's back to fucking torture circus
Y'see, it's the bare fucking minimum. That's the issue. Always I'm praised as something exceptional when I've really not done much besides meet the least someone could, should be asking for.
I'm sure any attention-seeking fuck would take the compliment and be on their merry way, but don't you see why it agitates me endlessly? These compliments are not given to me because I've done anything deserving of it. It's given to me solely so they can affirm their sorry selves; if they acknowledged my efforts as decent at most, they'd have to admit that their own performance lie far, far beneath the threshold they should be meeting. It's learned helplessness; they put me on a pedestal as an excuse to why they're not doing the same. By claiming I'm something exceptional, someone gifted, someone naturally better -- they exempt themselves from the same measurement.
If that was at all true, it'd be a different topic, but I know it is not. No one I work with would be incapable from putting in the same effort, if not even exceed mine. No one I work with is inherently inferior, less talented, or whatever excuse they insist on making, instead of taking my damn offer on working it through with them; they've just made themselves comfortable within that little box, and if that's where they'd like to rot, so be it, but don't you fucking dare use me as means to reaffirm your bullshit. Don't you dare call me gifted to make you feel better about yourself. Whether you want to improve or not is entirely your choice to make, but don't pretend it is not a choice that you're making by being perpetually hopeless.
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"Never trust your thoughts past 10 PM!! 💞💞" people are so, so fucking cute. What a beautiful life one must have, if that makes even the slightest fucking bit of difference.
Not sure what message we're trying to send to guests by playing a censored version of "Fuck You" by Lily Allen on speakers in the main lobby, but I am definitely feeling it.
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Do NOT complain to me about Gen-AI making everyone lazy when you yourself also use it to answer all of your E-Mails and correct all of your exams. You're a hypocrite sitting in a prison cell with a wide fucking open door and also I utterly despise you
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I'll never understand how girls pack their luggage 38438569699 days before the actual flight. Don't you need all your shit, still? Moreover, why does it take this much effort to pack an amount equivalent of perhaps two carton boxes? With that amount of stress one might think you're the pilot flying the damn plane.