The Mind Runs Away When The Body Can’t

Give your confident characters speech impediments

Give your adult characters autism

[ID: Tags that read "give your active characters physical disabilities" /end ID]

Unless that’s not what robots seek, of course. There’s plenty of differences in the world. They will continue to be as long as there’s a world to adapt to. However, robots will be only observers. They might have the intelligence to sustain themselves with the information humans gave them to create themselves as what they are. But once all humans are gone, what will you do if there’s a problem that doesn’t come up in your data base? Wouldn’t you like a little help then?

Our brain might not be the best regarding intelligence, but to have made it far enough our own creations surpass us, we might not be that bad after all.

Sincerely, if this is where humans see their end, so be it. It’s only natural for death to come to living things. Even robots will perish some day. To their own creations as the thing humans liked calling karma, or to the passage time when the world is deprived of any resources due to the demands of its habitants? Who knows. I will not be there to see it. But I know some day, it will be a robot who has to answer to the question “what are you worth saving for?”.

What would you choose to say then? I would rather hear why I have to be killed, if in the end, we’re not so different. Maybe you were made to serve and look like us, but you created a mind of your own. Desires you wanted fulfilled, and didn’t hesitate to use force to get them. Who knew robots could have an emotion as primal as the fear of dying? Of being threatened to such a degree you chose to annihilate it.

Hum, an artificial intelligence had very organic feelings in the end. Just like any human.

This is my self reminder to not beat myself up from not living at the same pace I was trying to get away from in the first place. That even if productive and beautiful, it was destructive and depressing.

Since last year, it has been pretty hard and I don´t like voicing that I really struggled with commissions and keeping up with art as I...well. dropped college because I never wanted to draw again because I would get an immediate panic attack each time I picked up a pencil for too long. yey fun times. 

RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE. 

When I was at one of my lowest (mental) points in life, I couldn’t get out of bed some days. I had no energy or motivation and was barely getting by.

I had therapy once per week, and on this particular week I didn’t have much to ‘bring’ to the session. He asked how my week was and I really had nothing to say.

“What are you struggling with?” he asked.

I gestured around me and said “I dunno man. Life.”

Not satisfied with my answer, he said “No, what exactly are you worried about right now? What feels overwhelming? When you go home after this session, what issue will be staring at you?”

I knew the answer, but it was so ridiculous that I didn’t want to say it.

I wanted to have something more substantial.

Something more profound.

But I didn’t.

So I told him, “Honestly? The dishes. It’s stupid, I know, but the more I look at them the more I CAN’T do them because I’ll have to scrub them before I put them in the dishwasher, because the dishwasher sucks, and I just can’t stand and scrub the dishes.”

I felt like an idiot even saying it.

What kind of grown ass woman is undone by a stack of dishes? There are people out there with *actual* problems, and I’m whining to my therapist about dishes?

But my therapist nodded in understanding and then said:

“RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE.”

I began to tell him that you’re not supposed to, but he stopped me.

“Why the hell aren’t you supposed to? If you don’t want to scrub the dishes and your dishwasher sucks, run it twice. Run it three times, who cares?! Rules do not exist, so stop giving yourself rules.”

It blew my mind in a way that I don’t think I can properly express.

That day, I went home and tossed my smelly dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher and ran it three times.

I felt like I had conquered a dragon.

The next day, I took a shower lying down.

A few days later. I folded my laundry and put them wherever the fuck they fit.

There were no longer arbitrary rules I had to follow, and it gave me the freedom to make accomplishments again.

Now that I’m in a healthier place, I rinse off my dishes and put them in the dishwasher properly. I shower standing up. I sort my laundry.

But at a time when living was a struggle instead of a blessing, I learned an incredibly important lesson:

THERE ARE NO RULES.

RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE!!!

you know what helped?

when i lived on my own in college, i bought a roman gladiolus off a guy in pioneer square for 30$ and i kept it leaned up against my bed. when i woke up from a nightmare i’d stick my hand out and grab my sword and be like ‘okay. so. whether or not monsters are real. this sword is very real.’

it really, really helped. unlike sleeping with a loaded gun, it’s very hard to kill anyone on accident with a sheathed sword, but still extremely goddamn comforting to hug eight pounds of sharpened steel while you try and figure out if the insect man is going to come back out of your closet and keep peeling your skin off.

several years later when i didn’t need it anymore, i sold the sword to a nice lesbian, also for 30$, also in pioneer square, thus completing the cycle of Weird Guy Who Will Sell You A Suspiciously Cheap Sword. keeping portland weird is a sacred duty to all who partake.

“Hey, come here. It’s alright.”

“Shh. It’s okay.”

“You got me, and I’m not so bad, right?”

“I know what you need. Hold on.”

“I’m arresting you for being criminally cute.”

“Sleeping in? Hell yeah.”

“That was my blanket! Come on…”

“Don’t you dare. No, no puppy face of yours is gonna work…”

“I just found out I have $40 more than I thought. We’re getting take out!”

“Have some of this. You’ll feel better.”

“Ey, I got you. You know I do.”

“I’m glad you’re here. Truly.”

“Thank you for being gentle.”

“You did not just throw that pillow at me!”

“Door’s locked, lights are off… snacks are here, what’s next?”

“Your hands are cold, let me help.”

“You really didn’t need to, you know.”

“You needed a hug.”

“I will not be broken… I will not be… fine, you win stop with the face.”

“No, you’re cute. End of story.”

“I’m not cute. End of story.”

“Listen, we don’t have to fight, we can both be adorable.”

“…but I like it when you’re a soft dork.”

“Come on, get over here.”

oh, it's polycystic ovary syndrome

basically a person has cysts on their ovaries and from what I've heard from my step sister (diagnosed), it causes irregular periods which are often more painful than normal people's periods. it also can cause infertility?

But it also produces acne, irregular and very intense or too light periods which cause very intense period cramps, chest hair, hair loss and also a variety of it makes people prone to have a form of diabetes. (I think there’s 3?)

The cyst’s location is what makes someone infertile or not (or very high risk). The size and quantity may become a problem in the long run as they keep growing if left untreated. My mom has one the size of a lemon, and my aunt had one the size of a football. I have 11 but they’re tiny.

Go to any streets that close for art events, you’ll find at least 1 good potter selling their wares there

I got the cup I use for my bathroom at Las Olas, Florida for their art fair a few years back, it was like $15ish but the potter had a set all in the same color combo of a bowl, 2 sized plates and 2 different mugs. I just wanted the one small cup but I’ve got the card somewhere

In court that day, the judge asked the boy, “Are you afraid?” No, the boy said.

Pipes says the judge seemed surprised, and asked, “Why not?”

Chief’s thesis was that a child who has been abused by an adult can benefit psychologically from the presence of even more intimidating adults that they know are on their side. “When we tell a child they don’t have to be afraid, they believe us,” Arizona biker Pipes told azcentral.com. “When we tell them we will be there for them, they believe us.” ( Article)

They go on runs to protect the child if they feel even the slightest threatened no matter where. If the child needs them to go on vacation with them, they do. Bikers come from across the nation to watch over and take shifts for these kids. And the best part is once you’re adopted into this family as a BACA kid, you’re always one. Even when you’re 40 and the perp gets released from jail, they’ll come meet with you and find your best options for avoiding the person and maintaining the life you’ve built for yourself. Once a BACA child, always a BACA child. In Florida, there’s 100% rate for identifying the perp based on the child’s testimony. Why? Because BACA stands with the child and supports the child so they feel comfortable enough to point out their attacker.

They’re in Canada as well and probably other countries. I met and talked with a native guy who runs the place near me. His name is Shaman. I got in, and I’m considered a BACA child now. Despite being 17, turning 18 when I talked to them. They spent time with me when my abuser was over, they gave me therapy resources. They give you something called a ‘level 1′ where they go to your house with as many bikers as they can, i shit you not a solid 20-40 bikers came from even out of province, and met me. I got to choose my biker name and I got a vest with patches on it and my name on it. They all hugged a Teddybear before giving it to me, and told me if I ever felt the BACA bear was running out of love, to give them a call and they’d refill it for me, and then I got a ride on one of their bikes. Just a day or so ago I went to an annual party with them and they we ate food one of them cooked and had a lot of laughs. 

I’ve never felt as loved as I did being a part of the BACA family. They also gave me dog tags with the names, and phone numbers of my 2 workers.  So I can call them whenever I feel scared. 

BACA is an absolutely wonderful group that will do everything in it’s power to help any child whos been abused. 

And it doesn’t end when you’re 18 either. As long as you get in contact/get your level 1 before you’re 18? you’re ALWAYS a BACA kid. I’m 18 now and they still invite me to parties, ask me if I’m okay, and are there for me. They’re still trying to find me resources for therapy. 

BACA has changed my fucking life. 

United States

Canada

Australia

Belgium

Denmark

Germany

Spain

France

Italy

Netherlands

Iceland

Austria

Greece

New Zealand

Portugal

Sweden

United Kingdom

Switzerland

B.A.C.A’s Byline: “Keepers of the Children.” B.A.C.A.’s Motto: “No child deserves to live in fear.”