im a wifegirl. im a male. im your every thing. im unemployed .

controversial stance but i do wish i could live forever. i certainly live like i'm going to live forever. i take my time. realistically however my lifespan is dreadfully limited and there are things i've "been meaning to do" that i will never get around to. the Emoji Movie came out almost 10 years ago. in all that time on any random day i could've decided to sit down and watch it, and i did not. how many more decades will slip by like this? conceivably, it could be all the decades i have left. watching the Emoji Movie would not be, after all, a crucial use of my time. much better things to do. i could easily postpone it over and over and over until my final breath where it may not even register to me that i never did watch the Emoji Movie. no great loss, certainly; and yet i find myself intrigued by Patrick Stewart's involvement

I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture. All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line? The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy? Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess. I want the fat left it. I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence. Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."

When people call you chill but in reality you’re just disconnected from everything around you

i dont even have guilty pleasures anymore i just like stuff and if people have a problem with that they can go fuck themselves

learning that constantly thinking about and analyzing and interpreting my traumas isn’t actually healing . and don’t get me wrong its made me a very effective communicator and emotionally intelligent person. but actually im supposed to be moving on and experiencing new things and happiness and stuff and not just compulsively reliving and recontextualizing the past. oops!