Last Year Was Complicated xx
Beard progression is š„ (and completely out of order).

Discoholic šŖ©

tannertan36
ojovivo
almost home
hello vonnie

PR's Tumblrdome

ā
dirt enthusiast
noise dept.
Game of Thrones Daily

#extradirty
Aqua Utopiaļ½ęµ·ć®åŗć§čØę¶ćē“”ć
I'd rather be in outer space šø

JVL

Kaledo Art
Three Goblin Art

titsay

JBB: An Artblog!
Jules of Nature
seen from Canada

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from India

seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
@callmejudah
Last Year Was Complicated xx
Beard progression is š„ (and completely out of order).

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
When you fall in love with a hoodie but it stays in the closet for two years because the chesticles don't fit in it. #NoMoTigOlBitties #CaliforniaLove #Trans https://www.instagram.com/p/ChQMY4ZutuB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
Just wanted to be a poser with @katbarrell. Turns out, neither of us are Avengers ready. Still a fun time.#AllWhiteTees #AllTheTime #earpdivisionexpo (at JW Marriott, Anaheim Resort) https://www.instagram.com/p/CezNuJYuMjM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
(via pnhx3lnyu9y81.jpg (828Ć666))
"God will break you to position you. Break you to promote you. Break you to put you in your right place. But when He breaks you, He doesn't hurt you. When He breaks you, He doesn't destroy you, He does it with... grace. Anybody been gracefully broken?" I had to reach out to @dorin_yefet to help me with the inner text (thank you). Some time ago, @badbelievercommunity introduced me to Unclobber by @colbymartin. There's a line about the word holy meaning "set apart". "Here I am, God, arms wide open. Pouring out my life, gracefully broken..." And set apart. šš¾ Side note: went outside yesterday wearing only one layer of clothes for the first time in 23 years, as far as casual attire, that is. #IYKYK š³ļøāā§ļø Tattoo by @jbarajas_art (at Black Diamond Tattoo Parlor) https://www.instagram.com/p/CdgeKIZrvWm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
My favorite part of the day is nine oāclock at night. Correction: thatās my new favorite part of the day. Normally, Iād be two hours into a 12 hour shift at work at 9 p.m. Or 14 hours into a sixteen hour shift. At nine p.m. months ago, I would be rubbing my eyes angrily trying to wake up so that I could be in the shower by 9:30 for an eight hour shift starting at 11 p.m. Ā Tonight, and every night for the next few weeks, 9 p.m. is my time and my time only. From 9-10 p.m., Iām allowed to remove the binder. I get to examine the bruises, both the ones from the procedure and the ones from the too small compression binder that was provided at a post op appointment to replace the larger one that was placed on me while I was still under the effects of anesthesia. I have the disgusting but relieving responsibility of taking off the dressings covering my healing nipples. I stand in front of the mirror as I slowly pull the tape from my skin. I tousle my hair that hasnāt been properly styled since the morning of surgery, March 1st. I lower and raise my eyebrows, attempting to correct my broken smolder because itās more of a Eugene than a Flynn Rider right now. And by right now, I mean my whole life. I donāt look away. I donāt avoid the reflection. I examine my left and right profile. I donāt even step into the shower until Iāve given myself a decent handful of compliments.
The shower itself is a struggle, but I remind myself that itāll only be that way a little while longer. The steri-strips give me a bit of anxiety because they sometimes slightly lift from the skin when theyāre wet. Each time, Iām afraid theyāll fall off, as if I donāt have the extras to replace them if necessary. But itās a learning curve that I fear Iām too rigid to master this early. I dry myself off as best I can, neck up and stomach down, before putting on clean boxer briefs and a pair of track or sweat pants. I walk around the apartment allowing the strips and nips to air dry. I finish the few dirty dishes I may have in the sink. I tuck in whichever TV remote and game controllers I wonāt be needing for the rest of the evening. I prepare my evening meds and supplements. I refill my water bottles and put them back in the fridge. I do everything in a deliberate manner to give the skin as much time as it needs to dry completely. By 9:50 p.m., my hands are washed, dried, and the wound pads and tape are laid out on the counter. The ointment and cotton swab, one in each hand, are at the ready. Ten minutes later, the wounds are covered. The strips are pressed firmly against the incisions again. The binder is back on and properly compressing because Iāve put away the tighter one in favor of breathing. Meds consumed. One more āwell doneā to my reflection and I turn off the Fletcher playlist that has been the soundtrack for my favorite hour of the day. The twenty three other hours of the day have their ups and downs, but the nine oāclock hour? Pure gender euphoria. Ā
My current read. Required reading lists are still a thing, even in adulthood. Making it up as I go. āØhttps://www.instagram.com/p/CJBwAy2LZ7W/?igshid=ijq5pp1hfeac
I might be taking this multiscreen thing a bit too far. But there's still a second tower, a second monitor, and a second bluetooth keyboard tucked behind the rest. So... you know. Not the worst. https://www.instagram.com/p/CHyd3csL-ay/?igshid=u8n1jz1ob8c
Preventing me from reading my book. Preventing me from writing my BOOKS. I miss being unemployed. šÆ https://www.instagram.com/p/CHeM1wSrjNV/?igshid=1gbrr15ho1uhj
Worth the trip. (at Jenniveeās Bakery , LLC)āØhttps://www.instagram.com/p/CHOfH0ELmwb/?igshid=1jadnvx7xktke

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Jail's eye view. This is pretty much the only fresh air I can get on a 16 hour shift without having to ask for permission to go outside. Last night I escorted an inmate who was being released. As we walked, she talked of how she wants to do social work and help children. Later, I read about her arrest. She admitted she supplies guns and drugs to teens... I have to catch a glimpse of light whenever I can in this place. https://www.instagram.com/p/CHCvThIrACJ/?igshid=g4cp9y3jumf2
Late birthday lunch with @geniewtdbh. #NoFilter ššš¾ (at Saigon Noodle House)āØhttps://www.instagram.com/p/CG0s0XYLniE/?igshid=1e7o4mjuet9by
Google said itād been four years since my last visit to @chemshaw13donutzcomics so⦠donuts and sisterās old drawing tablet. Todayās haul for tonightās creativity. How has your day treated you?āØhttps://www.instagram.com/p/CGvSjKKLE01/?igshid=1r0u9260r8jlj
A year ago today I surrendered man's best friend to the humane society. It doesn't even feel like it's been that long. Never a better best friend could be had than Ricky Bobby and I'll fight any human that doubts that. I miss him every day I come home and I don't hear him sniffing at the bottom of the door or his nails tapping on the tile floor. I'll forever feel like I failed him, but he never failed me once. I'm always gonna love that little bird trapped in a big dog's body. š https://www.instagram.com/p/CGqR7zwLylp/?igshid=o1l22xigqiiy
That Glee Girl
Iād allowed many a tear to fall in the car as I sat outside the house listening to her voice for a few minutes more. But I didnāt expect to fall apart at the front door to the house. I managed the keys surprisingly well and pushed the door open. The tears were a steady flow and a lump was forming in my throat. I attempted to swallow it as I met the gaze of my ever constant welcoming committee.
āHi, Jessie J. Iām going to make a recording today.ā I tried to choke out a response of interest in my four year old nieceās plans for the day, but the pain hit me hard at that exact moment. Her worry showed on her face. āWhy are you crying? Whatās wrong, Jessie J?ā I couldnāt answer her because my sobs became audible, restricting any possible words from coming out. I carefully made my way to the stairs to descend to my room. She went to the bottom of the stairs that would lead to the top level of the house and called out to my parents, āJessica is crying.ā Normally, I hate it when she calls me that. I cringe when anyone calls me that. She usually only uses that name immediately after my parents have said it. But I heard the softness of the way she said it. I heard the concern in her voice. And I was able to admit that she was right. The realization made my cries louder as I reached my room.Ā
JessicaĀ wasĀ crying. That young girl, that lost āyoung ladyā, as my father refers to me daily, was grieving uncontrollably. I retired my name and opted for my initials four years ago. I had taken the first step on a journey to become who I felt I was since the age of seven, though Iād never exactly known who that was. Iād only recently begun dismantling the decades of confusion, mistakes, despair and conforming that had molded Jessica and trapped Judah. But Jessica will always exist. I wept. I wailed. I tried to pull out what little hair I have. I heard my sister call my niece back to her. Sheād tried to follow me down to my room like she does everyday. I choked on the vomit that was rising up to my throat and spit out the little that succeeded. All while my parents tried to console me. I finally reached that ādonāt touch me!ā jerk away point and they exited the room. On her way out, my mother asked ādid something happen at work (someone I cared about passed the month before) or is this about that Glee girl?āĀ
Ā That Glee girl.Ā I said nothing. I remained hunched over with my back to her until she finally left. That Glee girl had created a safe space for me. That Glee girl had given me a circle of friends that I never would have found on my own. That Glee girl had healed wounds that I wasnāt even aware existed. She provided the pen for me to rewrite my future in the way I saw fit. And now her story has been cut short. To say Iām not coping well would be an understatement. I climbed into my bed and cried myself to sleep. I had another sixteen hour shift that would start in less than seven hours. When I returned home the next day, my niece was patiently waiting for me. She told me sheād never seen me cry like that. Never. āIt was a lotā, she said. āI just wanted to make you feel better, like Grandma and Papa did. Iām sorry you cried.āĀ
āThey didnāt make me feel better, kid. So donāt be too upset.āĀ
āBut Jessie J, why couldnāt you tell Grandma why you were crying?āĀ
āYou know how you fall sometimes and it hurts so much that you cry really hard?ā She nodded. āAnd when your mom tries to ask what happened, you canāt speak clearly?ā She nodded again. āItās like that. My soul hurts, Beastie. Iām in a lot of pain. Like when Bill Withers died and you wanted him to still be alive and singing in Vegas. I miss a singer too.āĀ
I showed her my phone wallpaper. āShe looks pretty.ā I was the one who nodded then. āIām sorry you miss her.ā I assured her that she had nothing to be sorry about. Then I retired to my room and to bed, preparing for the next shift. Here we are eleven days later and I have not had a single day pass without me feeling like vomiting. I have struggled through 8 or 9 sixteen hour shifts. I have chastised myself for crying in the shower. I have buried myself in the grief of others on social media, refusing to address my own. As I make plans to travel to California for her vigil, the feeling gets worse. Iām not ready. I will never be ready. But I need the hurt to come. I need to finally pull the knife out of my chest. I will forever feel the lack that her death has left in this world. I am always going to miss the magic of āthat Glee girl.ā Naya Rivera, for such a long pivotal time in my life, you were my glee. Thank you.Ā
To her,Ā
With love.ā„ā„

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
8 years ago, this month, I tried to kill myself. It wasn't my 1st try. I can't recall if it was the last. I wrote about it. I talked to my sister about wanting to see California for the first time, with plans to walk into the ocean, never to return. This is part of the pain of this. Three years later, I got my diagnosis and began taking medication. But the water never stopped calling my name. I'll be taking my first trip to California at the end of this month because the water STILL managed to take away a very big part of me. Somehow, I'll have to muster the strength to say goodbye. My heart is weeping. #RIPNayaRivera https://www.instagram.com/p/CDBuZjKBu6y/?igshid=10tn1grljj8wq
The Top 10 Writers Block Quotes
1. Writerās block? Iāve heard of this. This is when a writer cannot write, yes? Then that person isnāt a writer anymore. Iām sorry, but the job is getting up in the fucking morning and writing for a living. ~Warren Ellis
2. I learned to produce whether I wanted to or not. It would be easy to say oh, I have writerās block, oh, I have to wait for my muse. I donāt. Chain that muse to your desk and get the job done. ~Barbara Kingsolver
3. All writing is difficult. The most you can hope for is a day when it goes reasonably easily. Plumbers donāt get plumberās block, and doctors donāt get doctorās block; why should writers be the only profession that gives a special name to the difficulty of working, and then expects sympathy for it? ~Philip Pullman
4. Iāve often said that thereās no such thing as writerās block; the problem is idea block. When I find myself frozenāwhether Iām working on a brief passage in a novel or brainstorming about an entire bookāitās usually because Iām trying to shoehorn an idea into the passage or story where it has no place. ~Jeffery Deaver
5. You canāt think yourself out of a writing block; you have to write yourself out of a thinking block. ~John Rogers
6. Thereās no such thing as writerās block. That was invented by people in California who couldnāt write. ~Terry Pratchett
7. I havenāt had trouble with writerās block. I think itās because my process involves writing very badly. My first drafts are filled with lurching, clichĆ©d writing, outright flailing around. Writing that doesnāt have a good voice or any voice. But then there will be good moments. It seems writerās block is often a dislike of writing badly and waiting for writing better to happen. ~Jennifer Egan
8.Writerās block doesnāt existā¦lack of imagination does. ~Cyrese Covelli
9. Writerās Block is just an excuse by people who donāt write for not writing. ~Giando SiguraniĀ
10. Discipline allows magic. To be a writer is to be the very best of assassins. You do not sit down and write every day to force the Muse to show up. You get into the habit of writing every day so that when she shows up, you have the maximum chance of catching her, bashing her on the head, and squeezing every last drop out of that bitch. ~Lili St. Crow