Mar 14, 2022
distracting myself from horizon spoilers by beating my head against a brick wall (some might call this particular instance mass effect 2 insanity) and the bricks are losing
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distracting myself from horizon spoilers by beating my head against a brick wall (some might call this particular instance mass effect 2 insanity) and the bricks are losing
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filled with ill humours after having to listen to jazz music a little too loud. itâs like overseer music boxes and i am marked by the outsider.Â
very into deserts lately, on an aesthetic kind of level. praires. tundras. always been partial to the sea and oceans too. big stretches of sky over nothing at first glance, just you and the horizon and the insurmountable distance between. places that donât pretend to give a shit about you, are outright inhospitable if you come unprepared. but then you take in one detail, look under your feet, focus on a glint of movement in your periphery and all that vast emptiness is full of things that belong, and they donât give a shit about you either. iâm just enamored with the sense that nowhere is truly empty, drawn to the idea of mapping emptiness and finding some form of belonging there, even if itâs transient and temporary
ODDZIAĆ ZAMKNIÄTY - 09. Prywatka (1992)
god help any poor soul who shares a kitchen with me before i unpack All That
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probably some obvious piece of the puzzle i'm missing here because i don't read books but after some years of leaning transmasc/nb it's trans women's perspectives that are beginning to click for me. can i say though that i relate to trans womanhood more than i ever did to the cishetnormativity i barely questioned growing up? does it matter? i think i'll just always think about gender in whatever terms I start exploring next because a) gender is a social construct and b) my personal experience is unlikely to be perfectly and wholly described by someone else, and fuck knows i'm not the type to do the philosophy myself. all of which i guess boils down to "yeah, still genderfluid" lmao. plenty of room to pour more in the cup too.
i don't personalpost much as matter of privacy but the thirst for validation gets the better of me sometimes. if i don't get out by spring i'm genuinely afraid of what this house is going to do to me.
for lack of a full time job i'm at the beck and call of my grandmother, but the way she chooses to make use of it is not asking me to do the shit she complains to high heavens about doing, it's micromanaging what i wear and eat. she's extremely attached to her autonomy, ie being able to function independently, to the point it precludes respecting anyone else's: if i take the initiative to do a chore for her, she finds it offensive, either because it wasn't to her specifications or because she takes it to imply i think her invalid. i can't figure out the right balance of doing what's expected of me because she seems to expect me to read her mind instead of. you know. communicating her needs. and no, cursing and complaining doesn't serve that purpose, because every offer of help in response to these tirades is shot down under the guise of "no, it's so horrible, I don't want you to suffer it" as if hearing her bitch and moan is preferable to whatever menial labor needs done. i'm at my fucking limit man. i'm not a person here.
maybe it would be easier if i knew she did all this bait and switch out of malice. to fuck with me and make me miserable so i move out faster. maybe she does and it's certainly having that effect but i still take her affect of a doting grandparent, just keeping my best interest at heart, at face value, because after decades i simply no longer have the will and energy to earnestly guess at her intentions: whatever she tells me, she gets, and let her deal with the consequences of not actually saying what she wants.
(it wouldn't be easier. i can't make myself pretend i don't hate her guts but she still tries to play nice, in all her aggravating and demeaning ways, and we're never going to have any peace except by ignoring all our grievances long enough to put together a shopping list and eat dinner at one table.)
i'm not a person here. if there are guests and we're having a conversation, she speaks over me because she claims she can't hear me. if i'm working, it's unwelcome and/or inadequate. except when i want to be treated like the cheap labor i am, then i'm suddenly getting babied.
"kill them with kindness" subversion backfired (meal made with spite in my heart to make them hate my cooking as much as i hate theirs turned out delicious)