Dr. Sarah. 30. I have a PhD in Microbiology. I teach high school. Pronouns: she/they. INFP. Queer. Virgo. Wolf 359. Marvel. DC. His Dark Materials. Cooking. Feminism. Cats. I talk in the tags
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does anybody remember the s1 exchange between aziraphale and crowley where crowley was like what do you mean god is going to drown everyone even kids you canât kill kids and then aziraphale was like itâs ok god is going to create a rainbow at the end :))))) and then the gomens finale is like god kills everyone but itâs ok bc thereâs 1 gay couple at the end :)))))) anyway,
[ID: Screenshot of a Facebook post, author unknown. Post reads, "Why should coal miners pay for PBS"? This was an actual question asked by the Trump administration yesterday. Obviously a blatantly stupid question. We have questions too. Why should a poor Black family in Detroit pay for the President to go golfing? Why should a single mother of 3 who's working 2 jobs in Louisiana be denied health-care so that the CEO of Aetna can get a tax-break? Why is the guy washing dishes in Baton Rouge paying for the President's wife's secret service protection so she can live comfortably in NYC? We could do this all day. But here's the real question the Trump administration and the Republicans who empower him need to answer: Do you have a heart? Did no one teach you to care about your neighbors? Do you know what "empathy" means? Did no one ever teach you to "share" when you were in kindergarten? Have you never heard the phrase "do unto others"? I can't think of a group of people who need to watch Sesame Street MORE than the Republican party. Perhaps they would learn some common decency." End ID.]
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Once I said "My gender is whatever's funniest at the time" and my coworker stops dead in his tracks, turns slowly and says "So are your pronouns honk/honk?" killing me instantly
I was talking to a friend I knew before I transitioned about my new relationship (my first one ever!) and I said "Yeah, I think I only indentified as aro/ace most of my life because I didn't have lesbian as an option" and he looked me dead in the eye and said "Oh? Why not? ...Ohhh"
Then he said "You know, I completely forgot you weren't always this way. Femininity really suits you" and let me tell you I started tearing up
Of course, not ten minutes later I mentioned that I had to relearn how to sing and he said "oh no, what happened?" so he might just be a little slow
Update on that friend: a bunch of people sent me "he's a little confused, but he's got the spirit" gifs in response to that story. I can tell you now with certainty that she definitely has the spirit, and she's not confused anymore
in an effort to re-live the only time I experienced true peace, I will be re-attempting my version of a "dopamine detox" (basically a very controlled use of my phone)
before I share how I did it, let me just share what it did for me:
⢠I wasn't reaching for my phone every spare second
⢠I became comfortable with stillness and silence, without having audio/video running in the background
⢠it became easier to do lower dopamine-releasing activities (e.g. I finished a novel in 4 days after reading dry spell that lasted years)
⢠I started having interesting thoughts! sounds like a reach but the silence allowed me to connect more dots and make more interesting connections
⢠it genuinely felt like a spiritual experience. I cant fully describe why it felt like this, but I just felt like I was more receptive to spiritual experiences if that makes sense
1. only checking your phone a predetermined number of times in the day ONLY if necessary - this will be on an as-needed basis. for example, I let my main contacts know that I'll be checking my phone for 20 mins at 6pm every night, and if they really needed to reach me outside of that time, they can call
2. no checking your phone randomly through the day. not if you're waiting for the elevator, not if there's an ad during the show you're watching, not if there's a lull in conversation, not while eating, not if you're feeling awkward in public, not when you have a spare 5 minutes. you'll surprise yourself by how often you'll want to reach for your phone - this was the most humbling part of the experience đ
3. this one was probably the hardest for me - no running podcasts/videos in the background while doing things. the first few hours of this were, without exaggeration, EXCRUCIATING* for me. but within 2-3 days it got easier to the point it was actually enjoyable/peaceful
4. limit screen time (for entertainment) on other non-phone devices. set a predetermined amount of time you're going to, idk, watch your show or something. and stick to it!!! I tried to keep it under 1 hr per day. if you don't think you can stick to it, and yk you're going to get carried away, take out entertainment-related screen time altogether and find entertainment some other way
5. don't use other devices like you'd use your phone!! if you work on a computer, ONLY do work on your computer! don't be pulling up tumblr desktop etc yk (you can use various browser extensions to help w this)
funny little headcanon is that i believe if victoria ever came out to her mom that shamsi would be like 'okay, that's fine. but i still don't understand why you do not want to go into surgery. all the other gay women are in surgery; do you not want to be a gay surgeon like yolanda and emery? what about your lesbian friend trinity, doesn't she want to do surgery as well? you can do better victoria'
thereâs so much said already about shaunaâs unending consumption of jackieâs life now that weâve seen her consume the body, but what about how jackie cannibalized shauna first? dress in what i want you to dress in, kiss the boys i want you to kiss, play the game i play, go to the university i want to go to⌠if shauna takes the life that jackie was supposed to have now that sheâs no longer there to live it, itâs only made possible because jackie ate shauna up first and spit her back out into the shape she wanted her to take: her own. she knows how to be jackie because she always was, because jackie told her how to be. she knows how to be jackie better than she knows how to be herself! who is herself? what of me is me and what of me is you? which of my thoughts did i grow and which were planted by you? are these my memories or yours, is this my life or yours? shauna and jackie, jackie and shauna. who is eating who?
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That feeling when the older ladies at the crafting group doing their millionth giant cross stitch compliment the first cross stitch youâve done since failing abysmally at it at age eleven â¨
Okay but honestly itâs so nice to be part of this crafting/needlework/fiber arts group. Being in multigenerational spaces (outside of work) is something Iâve missed so much in my adult life, and getting to hang out every week with vastly different people ranging from high schoolers to 80 year olds is special and wonderful and hard to find outside of religious groups.
When ppl say we are social creatures, it means mutli generations. Before written text, oral history was the main way we shared info. Kids asking adults about this weird plant, someone showing you how to spin fibers, how to cook. We used to do everything as a group, and i think its really a shame that ppl isolate towads their own generation mostly out of fairly justifed fear. So having a common hobby is a really good way to work on this gap.
The best time to have planted a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now. Did you plant one 19 years ago? You may as well just go fuck yourself
Something I love in the Murderbot books is how even in the corporation rim, people will do good things and help others when they have the option. People in charge of lowering zone barriers wait until the last possible moment to give more of the public a chance to evacuate. People in charge of transport warn passengers not to get off (because there's a dangerous situation) or like in the new book, go 'screw tickets, get as many people on board so there's a chance we can get them safe'.
Even as tiny cogs in that brutal, dehumanising system, people find ways
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A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one
Nobody in your small coastal village has ever seen the Godmark that you were born with. Itâs a dark russet sequence of criss-crossing lines, with a vertical arrowhead on the left and a circle on the right, just over where your brow meets your temple. Some of the traders who come down from the mountain say it looks like one of the scripts used in the hinterlands, but not a language that any of them recognize.
âIf sheâs got the temperament for it, she should try her luck inland,â they advise. âNo point her starting a temple here if sheâd find her people elsewhere, with a little searching.â
At first, your parents are reluctant to send you away. Though youâre well-behaved and diligent in your chores, youâre a sickly child with no God to worship. And besides, youâve always been the dreamy typeâinclined to lose track of time watching the path of rain droplets chasing down the window, or the fronds of an anemone as it sways in a rock pool.
Instead, they send you to the temple of the Storm to learn all youâll need for your own God. You are happy there, for a time: making up beds and serving food to the castaways who pass through, keeping vigil at the lighthouse, burning incense and praying with the loyal widows and orphans of the drowned.
One such widow, an old, old lady, touches the mark on your forehead. âI recognise those letters. We wrote this way in the town where I grew up, way off past the mountains.â
Your heartbeat quickens. âWhat does it say!?â
She squints, eyes engulfed by wrinkles and hidden behind smudged glass. âA⌠Ar⌠Oh, I canât remember how to speak it. I left before I learnt my letters properly. There was a war, you know. But I remember,â she says, mistily, âthe most beautiful pink and white flowers used to grow, on the borders of the wheat fieldsâŚâ
You try to ask more questions, but remembering the war distresses her, and so you speak of other things. When sheâs drifted off to sleep, you get to your feet, go home and tell your parents: you are leaving in search of your God.
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