i crave to be loved so badly but i am so scared of it, maybe even find myself undeserving or not capable of receiving it,
i wrote a self insert character who gets into a relationship with a character who loves so entirely with such devotion and yet find myself unable to write a story where that character does love my s/i enough, the way he has loved other characters in the past. what the hell is that about?
The Battle Hymn of the Republic is probably most familiar as music; but in translating it I found that it is really excellent as poetry. Consider that famous phrase, "the grapes of wrath"; it is a dead metaphor now in English, killed by overuse out of its original context. Seeing it with the fresh eyes of a different language let me appreciate the power of the image: The grapes of wrath, from which are made the wine of wrath - heavy on the tongue, hot in the belly, a fire in the blood; the wine that soldiers drink before battle, that makes them charge the cannon's mouth. It's a phrase anchored in physicality, if you don't slide right past it through familiarity; "He is trampling out the vintage" - I am pleased that in Norwegian I was able to add an additional verb here, "han har trampet ut en årgang og av vredens druer smakt". I don't know if Mrs Howe had drunk of the wine of wrath herself; but when she wrote that, she'd surely had a glass or two of the mead of poetry.
I have dropped the refrain "Glory, glory, hallelujah", which relies for its best effect on being sung by several hundred deep male voices marching down a dusty road with a battle at its end; it is fine music but does not really contribute to the poetry of the words alone. I've kept, however, the concluding "…is marching on" that punctuates each verse, making it "…er i anmarsj", slightly archaic Norwegian that fits well with the religious imagery. This turned out to be the most difficult part to illustrate, in a poem in which I struggled much more with the images than the words; in the end I gave up on getting any sort of metaphor for "truth marching on" through StableDiffusion, which I used for the triple-alpha rhymes, and instead put in contemporary paintings and drawings. At any rate this serves to mark the refrains as distinct from the main verses.
The final line, which Howe wrote as "let us die to make men free", is now often sung as "let us live to make men free", presumably on the theory that dead men do not actually accomplish very much and the real goal is to make the other side's soldiers die for their cause. The argument has undoubted force. On the other hand, so many of the men who sang these words in deadly earnest genuinely did die to free the slaves; died by the hundreds of thousands, by bullet and canister and cholera. My translation, somewhat unfortunately, avoids the difficulty entirely with "menns frihet er vårt krav"; the triple-alpha rhyme scheme is a cruel master here, and I could not find any way to work in either life or death.
Jeg har sett med egne øyne Herren komme i sin makt;
han har trampet ut en årgang og av vredens druer smakt.
Han har sluppet asgardsreien løs og lyn fra sverdet brakt.
Hans sannhet i anmarsj!
I hundre vaktmenns leirbål har jeg sett ham klar til kamp;
de har reist for ham et alter her i aftnens røk og damp;
en rettferdig dom jeg leser, og jeg hører bødlens tramp:
Hans dag er i anmarsj!
Jeg har sett hans skrifter flamme i stål og krigersk mot:
``Forakt skal dere hevne, og jeg tilgir deres bot'';
la helten, født av kvinne, knuse slangen under fot,
For Gud er i anmarsj!
Vi har hørt trompeten kalle, det blir aldri mer retrett;
han veier alles hjerter, for hans domstol er vi stedt;
Vær rask, min sjel, å svare ham; føtter, vær beredt!
Vår gud er i anmarsj!
Han ble født i liljens skjønnhet langt der borte over hav;
i hans bryst var det en glorie som hver enkelt nåde gav.
Han døde for menns synder, og menns frihet er vårt krav!
For Gud er i anmarsj!
honestly like as much as i like reblogging those posts abt svaring off twitter users im torn on whether i agree with them or not bc more users = site is profitable and can continue running and also more content for me to consume but on the other hand. tumblr was so much more pleasant after the mass exodus.
i love jaocb so muchb i feel like im dyingi keep feeling like im falling like im about to die i always feel it in my dreams but now it feels real immso scated thay om dying amd all i want os to feel his arms andb legs amdnsetugf inwidh oncouldbstill kiss hikv, i always didnt ojowbitbs suevvb wajthedb aufrey tooscoh akdb im donsorru becauseb IBLOGEBuoubol sobkuchb okvb? last timebu poskted somehthing like tgat happybthing u alwausbrepeat that u sollyy lokee fute CUTE lovelynkind smart amazing ohvmy GOD AMAZINGBin wish i could have had a future qithby uouuu we could be having so much FUNNNNN,'we could have been forevevr! we couldnhavevgad A FAMSILYYYT😭😭😭i wanred ur features on my babies how am ibfornnabever find a person like rhaggtt😥🙏😭 i know i dont need you but i know i WANT you, i know i can sirvive on my own but im choosing you because i genuinely did want u, i hope you really dont hate me because thag makes me so sad, you said i help and keep you calm i just wanted to be someone you wantedd, i was never intending to be clingy i just needed confidence and assurance, nothing mich just a causal, "i love you" once in awhile or a "hey you eat?" at the end of the day beflre sleel, thays all that wouldve made me happy, i want to fogbt for you still insant to protect you frkm evevrrytijg,!! i mean u domt really instantly unlovebsokeone overnight, that means u never lovef them in the first place ☹️ did youbmever lovevme ☹️ dod none of the gifts and paragraphs and thought and imepogement malenyou happy, i judy wakted someone toblove me, butbreally i wouldnjs want u, even it tou werent ijbmny lite it would malenme so happy, i feel hopefles, my heatg isbso broekn, but i still cant feel the rivbt thing, i feel like im dhing audrey please help wonece im svared please dont jate me, i dont want to die, i jusrbwante to be lobed
Hey bud, so sorry you caught COVID. Not sure if you have Paxlovid. I am chronically ill and have had COVID without Paxlovid and I found that taking 24 hour antihistamines was helpful in reducing some inflammation (I believe there are studies about this but I’m not sure; it was recommended by online COVID cautious groups). I have also heard Pepcid can help. Obviously, idk if this will work for you, but that was my experience/what I’ve heard.
I know you have to work but try to rest as much as possible, even if that just means working from bed. Some people also say that lying on your stomach is a good position to help prevent pneumonia, but I would double check that (and idk if that’s true for asthmatic people).
I wish I had other advice (and honestly I don’t know if any of this is helpful for you specifically) but just know you’re not alone, as corny as that sounds. If you use Reddit, r/zerocovidcommunity might be helpful (fair warning, they’re very helpful in getting more info about dealing with COVID, but can be a little weirdly ableist sometimes).
Sending you all the healing vibes.
Thank you so much seriously this means the world
I dont know these meds but ill definitely look into them and see how they work for me
I appreciate this you have no idea 💕💕💕 im just so svared but its nice to know another chronically ill pwrson has gotten through it (although im also so sorry it ever happened to you)
hey this is so cute thank u is it for me? are u keeho? yes then its for you who else would jmi be? idk chanee he's not your husband iam ans everything is dor me kk it is say it qhaqhat? say Jr everything is doctor you daddy good girl! has anyone ever said that ro you? yea my teacher who? Mr. Cayce that's bad news well have to get rid odmfmmmhin do you remember thus morebjfb ? yes how high are u pretty hufb ok darling welk talk abs ir rommeow no pla tell me now he's a bas guy j realize that now ok ao song say rhwr about your teacher kn fo robes j don't so u want rhw mqndq badn on rif.mmttobufhr. yes change these song I thought ubliked snow blood i so like her then why did he? bfn hr take Bush in not too high ok so we were shookeed rj bond ronthrh and now we dqnr tot rbeh mt lgone whatN not thru my phone do h like babies a phone yes j more ur rhus kkaylisr shz u know o u can't agree rhars not what j meant ur feettif order ues I am how much do u like thissonfM a lot do u agree with jrN ywsandno why bhsr because ok smgmm u wounds rub no u wouldn't what if I svare u then usd try ti calmly become ubaridi though you could inheritance ibmranyy something else oh gamousdexfdsvf thr king.
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The Battle Hymn of the Republic is probably most familiar as music; but in translating it I found that it is really excellent as poetry. Consider that famous phrase, "the grapes of wrath"; it is a dead metaphor now in English, killed by overuse out of its original context. Seeing it with the fresh eyes of a different language let me appreciate the power of the image: The grapes of wrath, from which are made the wine of wrath - heavy on the tongue, hot in the belly, a fire in the blood; the wine that soldiers drink before battle, that makes them charge the cannon's mouth. It's a phrase anchored in physicality, if you don't slide right past it through familiarity; "He is trampling out the vintage" - I am pleased that in Norwegian I was able to add an additional verb here, "han har trampet ut en årgang og av vredens druer smakt". I don't know if Mrs Howe had drunk of the wine of wrath herself; but when she wrote that, she'd surely had a glass or two of the mead of poetry.
I have dropped the refrain "Glory, glory, hallelujah", which relies for its best effect on being sung by several hundred deep male voices marching down a dusty road with a battle at its end; it is fine music but does not really contribute to the poetry of the words alone. I've kept, however, the concluding "…is marching on" that punctuates each verse, making it "…er i anmarsj", slightly archaic Norwegian that fits well with the religious imagery. This turned out to be the most difficult part to illustrate, in a poem in which I struggled much more with the images than the words; in the end I gave up on getting any sort of metaphor for "truth marching on" through StableDiffusion, which I used for the triple-alpha rhymes, and instead put in contemporary paintings and drawings. At any rate this serves to mark the refrains as distinct from the main verses.
The final line, which Howe wrote as "let us die to make men free", is now often sung as "let us live to make men free", presumably on the theory that dead men do not actually accomplish very much and the real goal is to make the other side's soldiers die for their cause. The argument has undoubted force. On the other hand, so many of the men who sang these words in deadly earnest genuinely did die to free the slaves; died by the hundreds of thousands, by bullet and canister and cholera. My translation, somewhat unfortunately, avoids the difficulty entirely with "menns frihet er vårt krav"; the triple-alpha rhyme scheme is a cruel master here, and I could not find any way to work in either life or death.
Jeg har sett med egne øyne Herren komme i sin makt;
han har trampet ut en årgang og av vredens druer smakt.
Han har sluppet asgardsreien løs og lyn fra sverdet brakt.
Hans sannhet i anmarsj!
I hundre vaktmenns leirbål har jeg sett ham klar til kamp;
de har reist for ham et alter her i aftnens røk og damp;
en rettferdig dom jeg leser, og jeg hører bødlens tramp:
Hans dag er i anmarsj!
Jeg har sett hans skrifter flamme i stål og krigersk mot:
``Forakt skal dere hevne, og jeg tilgir deres bot'';
la helten, født av kvinne, knuse slangen under fot,
Mens Gud er i anmarsj!
Vi har hørt trompeten kalle, det blir aldri mer retrett;
han veier alles hjerter, for hans domstol er vi stedt;
Vær rask, min sjel, å svare ham; føtter, vær beredt!
Vår gud er i anmarsj!
Han ble født i liljens skjønnhet langt der borte over hav;
i hans bryst var det en glorie som hver enkelt nåde gav.
Han døde for menns synder, og menns frihet er vårt krav!
For Gud er i anmarsj!
I feel like all of us has at least one thing that we’ve just hidden from our parent(s) or family members and are never going to disclose to them, like nothing super major like your gender or sexuality but like how as a kid you let the neighborhood kids launch you off a branch they had you sit on while they (all like five of them) pull the branch down as far as they could before letting go of it and letting it fling you into the air while your sister watched disapprovingly and then land on the hard ground only to later at dinner be asked by your mom why you were covered in leaves and dirt and reply saying “I fell” while you sister who knows damn well that that isn’t true glares at you from across the table.
I’m really afraid of telling irl people I’m little, but also when I go back to school and have my own place w my friends I. Really don’t want to have to hide so much. I can’t play real games or do anythin bc if I make too much noise or stuff people walk in. I tried readin a picture book and my mom came in on me! All I can do is watch cartoons w headphones and I have a binkie but I got in trouble bc my mom opened my mail and saw it! I don’t wanna hide anymore I wanna play w my stuffies and dance an not have to be so quiet bc I’m talkin little and stuff! And I go lil nonvoluntarily too after panic attacks and I can normally hide it bc I act off bc of my meds and panicking anyways but I don’t wanna hide it I wanna be able to have my stuffy and cuddles and have someone else make me cocoa bc babies shouldn’t use the stove but I gotta bc I need cocoa! So I wanna tell my friends so I can be lil in our suite but I’m scared they’ll think I’m weird or think it’s the icky type of lil or they won’t get it
The Battle Hymn of the Republic is probably most familiar as music; but in translating it I found that it is really excellent as poetry. Consider that famous phrase, "the grapes of wrath"; it is a dead metaphor now in English, killed by overuse out of its original context. Seeing it with the fresh eyes of a different language let me appreciate the power of the image: The grapes of wrath, from which are made the wine of wrath - heavy on the tongue, hot in the belly, a fire in the blood; the wine that soldiers drink before battle, that makes them charge the cannon's mouth. It's a phrase anchored in physicality, if you don't slide right past it through familiarity; "He is trampling out the vintage" - I am pleased that in Norwegian I was able to add an additional verb here, "han har trampet ut en årgang og av vredens druer smakt". I don't know if Mrs Howe had drunk of the wine of wrath herself; but when she wrote that, she'd surely had a glass or two of the mead of poetry.
I have dropped the refrain "Glory, glory, hallelujah", which relies for its best effect on being sung by several hundred deep male voices marching down a dusty road with a battle at its end; it is fine music but does not really contribute to the poetry of the words alone. I've kept, however, the concluding "…is marching on" that punctuates each verse, making it "…er i anmarsj", slightly archaic Norwegian that fits well with the religious imagery. This turned out to be the most difficult part to illustrate, in a poem in which I struggled much more with the images than the words; in the end I gave up on getting any sort of metaphor for "truth marching on" through StableDiffusion, which I used for the triple-alpha rhymes, and instead put in contemporary paintings and drawings. At any rate this serves to mark the refrains as distinct from the main verses.
The final line, which Howe wrote as "let us die to make men free", is now often sung as "let us live to make men free", presumably on the theory that dead men do not actually accomplish very much and the real goal is to make the other side's soldiers die for their cause. The argument has undoubted force. On the other hand, so many of the men who sang these words in deadly earnest genuinely did die to free the slaves; died by the hundreds of thousands, by bullet and canister and cholera. My translation, somewhat unfortunately, avoids the difficulty entirely with "menns frihet er vårt krav"; the triple-alpha rhyme scheme is a cruel master here, and I could not find any way to work in either life or death.
Jeg har sett med egne øyne Herren komme i sin makt;
han har trampet ut en årgang og av vredens druer smakt.
Han har sluppet asgardsreien løs og lyn fra sverdet brakt.
Hans sannhet i anmarsj!
I hundre vaktmenns leirbål har jeg sett ham klar til kamp;
de har reist for ham et alter her i aftnens røk og damp;
en rettferdig dom jeg leser, og jeg hører bødlens tramp:
Hans dag er i anmarsj!
Jeg har sett hans skrifter flamme i stål og krigersk mot:
``Forakt skal dere hevne, og jeg tilgir deres bot'';
la helten, født av kvinne, knuse slangen under fot,
Mens Gud er i anmarsj!
Vi har hørt trompeten kalle, det blir aldri mer retrett;
han veier alles hjerter, for hans domstol er vi stedt;
Vær rask, min sjel, å svare ham; føtter, vær beredt!
Vår gud er i anmarsj!
Han ble født i liljens skjønnhet langt der borte over hav;
i hans bryst var det en glorie som hver enkelt nåde gav.
Han døde for menns synder, og menns frihet er vårt krav!
For Gud er i anmarsj!