Anxious Asexual Artist. She/Her and They/Them both fine. Ask me about commissioned art, blankets and capes. Commissions always open. Established 1979. Not intended for use by minors.
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Spin the wheel again. That’s who’s trying to protect you.
(If you have zero idea about a name you got, spin until you see someone you recognize.)
Are you safe?
Absolutely not. I'm dead. 100% dead.
I might stay alive, but it'll be a really close thing.
I'll take some hits, for certain, but I should be okay in the end.
A few attacks might get through, but nothing concerning.
The attacker might be able to get in one lucky hit. If that.
I am the opposite of worried. I'm 100% safe.
…Look. I've tried picturing this. But I honestly don't know how to answer.
Remaining time: 5 days 22 hours
(I've run this poll twice before, expanding it significantly for the second run. With about a year passed since that second run, I thought it was time to add another couple hundred names to the list and have another go.)
call me crazy but i think public transportation should explicitly also be for actively drunk/high people. so they don’t, you know, drive under the influence.
i literally don’t care how afraid you are of drunk people. if they’re behaving well enough then there’s no reason to kick them off the bus.
if you can’t recognize it’s better for society for drunk people to have a way home that doesn’t involve them driving and potentially getting people killed then you just kind of suck actually.
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I am very sorry to be the one to tell you the shark video is fake 😞 it got me too. I had to dig a bit, but it’s from some blog called thesharkmommy that labels itself an “artistic project” exploring the ocean through “underwater fantasy.”
I'm working on a huge project. Well, I'm not this afternoon, because it's raining and carpentry in the rain isn't the best combination.
We've been wrecked this year, run straight out, no time, no energy no money. I put this off for the entire month of june because I was ttoo depressed to contemplate power tools.
But it needs to get done and soon, so I spent most of yesterday preparing the base- which involved drilling about eighteen holes in a steel frame and cutting wood to fit, then screwing down plywood.
Now, you may not know this about me, but I am not allowed to measure shit.
(cut for rambling story with no punchline and a bit of whining)
No matter how many times I check, and recheck, and remeasure and re check, I will get it wrong. fabric, wood, foam it doesn't really matter the material, if I have to cut it, I will have measured it wrong. I try to get it to be too big, because it's eaiser to trim something than splice some in, but please imagine how much wood I was cutting and trimming.
And I was doing this by myself, because I do mean the entire family. Medical problems and depression all around.
I was good, I'd asked for help, explained exactly the help I needed, and asked the best person in the house for it.
and of course she said yes. but my mother is very distractable, so she tends to move from task to task as she sees them. She is also has a problem with games like solitaire, or other simple puzzles. She will just loose a day, listening to commentary and playing solitaire.
I'd woken her up, said what I wanted to get done today, reminded her that she said she'd help, and went out to work on what I could, until my teleheath appointment came which is exactly as fun as it sounds. (how's it going? Weil my hands no longer shake so hard I cry, and I'm not unduly anxious, but I'm eating about one and a half meals a day because I'm just not usually hungry, and I'm exhausted all the time, but that's the CFIDS, I don't think a cpap will help me sleep better.)
anyhow, that ended out and I stopped crying, just in time to hear movement downstairs. ''AH!" I thought, my mother is moving, let's do it.
no. My sister had PT (see this year has SUCKED.)
So. I cried a little (I was kneeling in front of the door sobbing and shaking on my knees, where I had gone as they left.)
And went back to work. If I wasn't going to get help, t still needed to be done. I worked hard all afternoon, until mother came home with Kat after PT and a brief shopping trip. 'Didn't you want help with that?' uh yes, but you are exhausted from driving and shopping and the groceries need to get put away. I can't ask you to do it now.
So she starts doing that, and it takes a while. I don't know why it takes so long. Then she sits down and makes a sandwich to eat.
meanwhile, I am again alone ankle deep in poison ivy, saw dust, and metal dust.
I decide that I clearly have done something wrong, because no one actually helps me, ever. I'm just not important enough. I'm forgettable. I don't deserve it, or I would get it (See re: that psychologist appointment. I'm trying okay)
So I try to keep working, and I'm crying and then, I can almost hear my father's voice (He has been dead for over Twenty years now and I... okay, I'm gonna need a minute) So I practicly hear his voice and can plainly picture his smile and tostled mad scientist hair. What says of course is
'There's no crying in wood shop!' Like Tom Hanks in a League of their own. And then I got the image just as strong of him pulling me into a hug and holding me until I stopped crying.
well I can't hallucinate that hard, so I kept trying to smile at the sillnens and not cry, and then mother comes out and 'Didn't you want help?'
yes but it hasn't come.
So then she helps me with the last couple cuts. It surprises no one that when she measures, the numbers come out right, but it I say 'oh I think it's a little shorter' than that to boards are wrong. Again not allowed to measure stuff.
We finally stop because my power tools batteries need to be charged.
and then it started raining.
But I just want to hold on to that snarky beautiful moment that made me think of my father
i know that “don’t harass people for being weird, they might be autistic!” is a fairly popular take on here. but as a Certified Autist, i’d like to add that harassing allistic and/or neurotypical people for being weird is also bad, and should not be done
and before you come in with “yeah, you never know who is and isn’t autistic, and you shouldn’t force people to out themselves!” i want to say two things: one, i agree. and two, even if you could magically avoid ever harassing a single autistic person, it still wouldn’t be okay to go after NTs for being weird. they’re people, janice. they’re allowed to be really invested in naruto
#stop playing the game of ‘who is it okay for me to hurt?’ #the answer is no one #the answer is ALWAYS going to be no one #none people is the correct number of people to hurt [X]
Angelica Transome — so disposed of her infant brother that he was not found until many years later (Nether Postlude, 1889).
Miss Elspeth Lipsleigh — eventually succeeded in causing the death of Arthur Glumm in Towage Regis, 1892.
Nurse J. Rosebeetle — tilted her employer out of the wheelchair and over the cliff at Sludgemouth in 1898.
Mrs. Fledaway — laced her husband's tea with atropine in the spring of 1903 at Locusts, near Puddingbasin, Mortshire.
Sarah Jane (“Batears”) Olafsen — hacked to collops nineteen loggers between March 1904 and November 1907 in and around Bindweed, Oregon.
Madame Galoche — in May 1911 added a tin of insecticide to a potate purée Crécy aux perles at the soup kitchen she operated for the indigent of Berchem-Sainte-Agathe, Belgium.
Miss Emily Toastwater — smothered her father after evening prayers, London S. W. 7 (1916).
Mrs. Daisy Sallow — eviscerated her daughter-in-law with a No. 7 hook afterwards crotcheting, over the course of three evenings her shroud in snowflake pattern (1921).
Natasha Batti-Loupstein — pulverized a paste necklace and sprinkled it over a tray of canapés, Villa Libellule, Nice, 1923.
Lady Violet Natheless — strangeled the hon. Opal Gentian at Gilravage Hall on Midsummer's Eve, 1925.
Lettice Finding — shot Edgar Cutlet, whose mistress she was, during the interval of a touring repertory company production of Rosmersholm in Manchester 1934.
Miss Q. P. Urkheimer — brained her fiancé after failing to pick up an easy spare at Glover's Lane's, Poxville, Kansas, 1936.
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all yall make jokes about couples and their nonromantic third wheel having fun together, but im the one getting treated to food tonight by the couple im nonromantically third wheeling. you wish you were me
I should not teach my mother's seventeen year old cat she can get extra feedings of wet food if by lying in an awkward position and breathing as little as possible.
[Burnout expert Arno] Van Dam observes that clinical burnout patients tend to suffer from an excess of perseverance, rather than the opposite: ‘Patients with clinical burnout…report that they ignored stress symptoms for several years,’ he writes. 'Living a stressful life was a normal condition for them. Some were not even aware of the stressfulness of their lives, until they collapsed.’
Instead of seeking help for workplace problems or reducing their workload, as most people do, clinical burnout sufferers typically push themselves through unpleasant circumstances and avoid asking for help. They’re also less likely to give up when placed under frustrating circumstances, instead throttling the gas in hopes that their problems can be fixed with extra effort. They become hyperactive, unable to rest or enjoy holidays, their bodies wired to treat work as the solution to every problem. It is only after living at this unrelenting pace for years that they tumble into severe burnout.
Devon Price, “You Might Not Recover from Burnout. Ever.”
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look just gonna be really ndn about it for a moment but no one can claim to know the internal experience of animals. no one can claim to know the internal experience of plants. no one can claim to know the internal experience of the earth. theres a part of my heart that is always the girl telling my philosophy professor that we cant know the flower turning towards the sun is "purely instinct." and if u disagree then thats fine idc its just My Soulful Opinion in afraid
its frustrating doubly to talk abt on here bc not only is everyone gonna laugh me out of the room like they did when i tried to bring up animism in my white philosophy classes but also like. i know people are gonna get mad like "oh so animals can have morals?" etc of like. look i Knowww and i agree that the anthropomorphism of animals by people is harmful absolutely! but this colonial empirical stance of that nothing feels emotion or has desires in this world except for human beings is so sick to me. what a terrible rotten world to live in where plants dont love the sun and love the shade and love the rain. "they dont have the brain synapses firing to-" 1) thats not all that emotion is oh my lord 2) constantly they are coming out with more science that proves that plants communicate with each other in Scientifically Proven ways. your need to have the world fit an aristotelian victorian bullshit diagnostic criteria is sick