a permanent decision on a fleeting physical body

the problem is giving up genuinely feels so good #imnotdoingthat

Trace amounts of Monica in my life

A statistically insignificant level of Monica in my life

My life manufactured in a facility that also processes Monica

sorry but someone assuming you have "left a fandom" when you don't post about it a lot anymore feels like bilbo coming home to the sackville bagginses having him presumed dead and selling all his stuff. girl i was just on a little quest????

i think we should start openly mocking male creatives who can't figure out how to write women. like actually i think it's embarrassing that it took elliot page transitioning for christopher nolan to give him a good role. why did it take like ten years to get the first female lead in a marvel movie? why is it a Known Fact that stephen king can't write women? why is 50% of the population omitted from large ensemble works? i asked my friend to name a movie directed by a man with a majority female cast and he said ghostbusters 2016. ghostbusters. ghostbusters. g

i don't like to yuck people's yum but i have to say that my least favorite thing to come from the current state of Artists on the Internet is the idea of a sketchbook as something nice and pretty and shareable. like i love me a notebook full of gorgeous art don't get me wrong but that is NOT what a sketchbook is. a sketchbook is my friend who i carry around everywhere like a purse chihuahua. it is the physical manifestation of my notes app. it is the container into which i wring my brain out. it is my therapist. and most of all it is filled with absolutely terrible sketches that should never see the light of day.

this post is making the rounds again and the amount of people saying that the pretty sketchbooks phenomenon ruined sketchbooks for them is HEARTBREAKING and i stand by my opinion that sketchbooks should be like a jar you put your OCs in. and then you shake them around in there. that's what they're for

one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.

there are two wolves inside of me. one of them thinks dr langdon is an asshole. the other ships him with dr king very dearly.