#but the dream used finnish for the word while otherwise being english so it felt right to do it for this post as well

[tears-of-boredom]

Dream time! And not the youtuber!

Me and my older brother were shopping at an H&M. I remeber looking at these pants that I wanted, it said that they were five meters long. Of course I found a measuring tape somewhere so I measured five meters on myself, and it was perfect! They reached just above my bellybutton. Also there was a whole world based on a roblox game I've played I think. My brother had to "painia" some annoying little villain, except it didn't work when he did it normally, so we went to a roof nearby and my brother asked what I thought he had to do if "painiminen" didn't work. I was not sure at all, but guessed that he had to do it in the building that glowed green and had a dome for a floor. So me and my older brother went down there, he jumped straight into the building from this crack that happened because the dome was bigger than the roof. I just jumped down these stair-like things that were way too steep to actually be meant to used as stairs. When we got there, neither of us remembered the villain. The building from inside looked like if my grandma decided to build an upper floor to her house and host a very busy West Asian bar up there. Anyways, me and my brother, who were already on the upper level, walked to the stairs. He asked me "Do you walk the stairs down like this when you're smoking a cigarette?" While going pretty fast down a couple stairs. I answered "No, more like this." And walked down the same couple of stairs but clearly calmer, and like I was not in a hurry anywhere. (My brother at this point was almost definitely wearing a striped black and white button up t-shirt with a collar) We go down the stairs, with the speed of what my brother showed. Almost immediately I'm back in front of the stairs on the upper floor, with a cigarette, walking down the stairs exactly like I showed my brother I would.

#'painia' and 'painiminen' are in english 'wrestle' and 'wrestling' #but the dream used finnish for the word while otherwise being english so it felt right to do it for this post as well #also an after thought: i find it really weird that I'm the one who smokes in this story considering the fact that irl i have never smoked #but my brother definetly has #i guess it makes sense since im pretty sure i have smoked in a couple of other dreams as well #dreams

[solemnrosary]

You know what? I’m bored and I want to pretend that I’m vaguely interesting. So without further ado; 65 Questions!

Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? - Nah, I doubt my own existence and meaning the most. I have no reason to doubt anyone else’s existence, because I sure as hell couldn’t make such lovely cheery things.

On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? - 2, because I can’t see. I have terrible night-vision that takes ages to jostle on. So I end up navigating by visual and spacial memory if I need to walk around. Because I have my own system for storing items and leaving them about, I end up remembering my surroundings very well. 

The person you would never want to meet? - Anyone who doesn’t meet my basic moral requirements. 

What is your favorite word? -  In French, it’d be argent, since silver is pretty and I love how it’s pronounced. In English, plethora, for similar reasons. Finnish is harder to pick.. hmmmh, hurma?

If you were a type of tree, what would you be? - what is known here as “The silver willow”, which is a variation of the white willow (salix alba), that has silvery bluish sheen to it’s leaves and a darker tree trunk. Salix alba var. sericea 'Sibirica'. Sometimes 'Argentea' ja 'Sericea' are also considered to be of the same variation. If I was a flower, I think I’d like to be the Eden climbing rose or a marigold.

When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? - my face is bloated again, I guess the meds didn’t absorb properly. 

What shirt are you wearing? - dark blue men’s print shirt that doubles as a pyjama 

What do you label yourself as? - Agender, nonbinary, trans, bi and a problem. 

Bright room or dark room? - dim room. 

What were you doing at midnight last night? - myself

Favorite age you’ve been so far? - the now. I moved into another city away from my family, closer to my dear friend, so- it’s a whole lot better. Emotional turbulence is easing a little too. 

Who told you they loved you last? - ... my emotionally abusive family. 

Your worst enemy? - myself and the bigoted society. 

What is your current desktop picture? - a cat skull I painted myself. 

Do you like someone? - I do, I like many people. My friends, my brothers and grandma.

The last song you listened to? - I love you by Woodkid. It’s a mood.

You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? - dorito. 

Who would you really like to just punch in the face? - I’d rather not damage my hands. 

If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? - That sounds absolutely dreadful, no I don’t want to have anyone do anything they do not wish to do. It’s about consent, not-consenting is not funny or desirable to me in any way.  Now if you were to give me a butler, who has personal agency to say no and, perhaps, a snarky attitude- I really would love to be pampered a little. just- being held and taken care of would be nice. It doesn’t have to be anything non-platonic but I wouldn’t mind if it was? Gentle snark, reassurance, maybe a massage, please. 

What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) - Strong legs? I suppose my butt’s nice too. I like the curve of my back? Hands and eyes? it’s a very subjective question for someone who doesn’t like themselves. 

If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? - find a way not to change back, thank you! finally, the correct bits. Don’t mind if I do. 

Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? - I can’t.. think of any? Nothing that’d be a secret anyway. Unless walking so quietly that I startle people sometimes counts? I don’t do that on purpose, though. Being so oblivious to something I end up bypassing it’s complications by sheer force of will? 

What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? - I’m usually not afraid of any tangible things, only general things like pain and being abandoned by the people I love. Or never being accepted and loved in general. I’ve been working through haphephobia for years, but specifically; I’m afraid that my fear of touch will smear itself onto the relationships I feel the most comfortable and myself in. I can’t help flinching, it’s still instinctual, and I can’t tolerate a whole lot of contact from most people- but the longer I go without any contact, the more I fear that next time it’ll burn again. I almost regret telling my friends that I have haphephobia, because instead of asking if I’m okay with something, now I’m just- deprived of contact all together. It’s fairly hard to teach the brain that something is normal and okay when it’s never there at all. 

You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. - OH- definitely begin with some kickass, fresh-baked oat loaf, one you’ve bought that morning. Slice it thick, because it’s soft and divine. As for fillings, I am torn between several types of fish. Gravlax is amazing in itself, but smoked salmon in mayo with diced cucumber, lemon juice, dill, green onion, maybe celery sounds superb. or tuna in tomato purée, with freshly diced chives and tiny bit of mayo to balance the tang, if you want a simpler filling.  For salad bits; salad, cucumber, tomato, red onion, red bellpepper.   Optionally, some bacon and mushroom salad (it’s made from home-salted mushrooms that have been de-salted once, with diced red onion, mayo, maybe dijon, and white pepper. I make the best damn mushroom salad)  As for cheese, feta crumbs, mozzarella slices or a pan-crisp goat cheese button. For sauce, I prefer garlic or cucumber mayo, or even a yogurt sauce.  on top, a slightly gooey fried egg seasoned with citron-pepper and chili (so that the yolk may graze all the goodness). If you wish to be decadent as hell, throw some diced garlic, butter and yellow onion onto a pan, crisp it, throw it on top of all and then throw some choice sauces on it.  Even without the salmon filling, the bacon and mushroom salad with the rest makes for the best damn experience you could have whilst eating a sandwich. 

You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? - Save half, buy food and something for my friend. 

You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? - no thanks, all my goods are here. But Norway and Iceland would be nice one day.

An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? - uhhhhh, I don’t usually drink alcohol cause I can’t stand the taste. I’ve known to very rarely have a long-drink or a lemonade-esque thing though. So maybe Smirnoff ICE, If I was to drink it myself. Otherwise, rum or hard spirits like, a vodka of some kind, cause they are fairly versatile to use in emergencies, to bake with, or to gift. 

You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? - Be kind. 

What is your favorite expletive? - Saatana or perkele. I am a finn after all. 

Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? - computer. It is the most expensive one and it has all my art of info in it, so it’s very obvious. That or my important papers file. 

You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? - one would not be enough to erase the damage I suffer from today. I would erase being born, if given free choice. 

You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! - I’d find a remote community in an area, have a cottage and just. I dunno, do art, bake and have a garden for fruits and cool projects. I’d make my own earthen oven. A big cast-iron pan. 

The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? - Grandma. Her shitty husband bullied her in her last year while she was dying to breast cancer. I love her, and she deserved better.  

What was your last dream about? - [Trigger warning, this gets extreme] I was belly-down on the ground, grabbed by the throat from behind. I wrangled one hand off, but every time I managed to get both, one of those hands would slip my grasp and choke me again. I barely got a single breath between. This went on and on and on. I cried for help and reached out, only for someone to grab my hand in disdain, saying something like ‘tsh, fine. Cry then.’ They held my hand in a way that their nails dug into that hand. I no longer had both hands to pry the assaulter’s hands away. I slowly choked to death.   I woke up and hand to claw at my own hand just to breathe through my panic. I felt those hands on my throat for days. This is, unfortunately, normal for me.

Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? - No.

Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? - I have an autoimmune condition that has hospitalized and nearly killed me on several occasions. So yes. I take that in strides.

Have you ever built a snowman? - Yes, with my brothers. It was nice.

What is the color of your socks? - Black, always

What type of music do you like? - Anything between rock, pop, folk and classical. Violin music in particular.

Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? - Both are nice

What is your favorite milkshake flavor? - chocolate or blueberry

What football team do you support? - I don’t watch football

Do you have any scars? - Yes. Stretch marks, old wounds, new wounds. I have a scar behind my left ear that if you were to touch it, you’d notice it has a split beneath it on the skull from how hard it was hit. I fell on a radiator edge when I was younger and almost lost my ear from it, got three stitches. I also have a scar below from a biking accident, couldn’t sit for a few weeks.

What do you want to be when you graduate? - Already did, and the answer is odd jobs and nothing, apparently.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? - torn between ‘existence’ and ‘bodily gender’

Are you reliable? - Yes and no. I will keep any secret and help out whenever I can but would I trust myself to handle anything I care about? No. 

If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? - Does it get better?

Do you hold grudges? - I do not forget, but I do not dwell. 

If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? - A cat and a duck. The ultimate bastard. 

What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? - the one where a stalker told me they’d dug every information they could find for two weeks before talking to me. They asked for my home address in 30 different ways, apparently hoping I’d forget I’d said no. They proceeded to hand me a yaoi manga as a souvenir from a con. I felt vaguely threatened. 

Are you a good liar? - hmm. I try not to lie, If I don’t want to answer I’ll dodge or say I don’t want to answer. But, I suppose I am, for being able to hide half the things that I’ve been able to.

How long could you go without talking? - I begin talking out loud to fill out soundless spaces, so not a whole lot. 

What has been you worst haircut/style? - ‘I want to speak to the manager’ and ‘little timmy is the best soccer player in his class’ 

Have you ever baked your own cake? - I baked most of everything back at my parents, so yes. 

Can you do any accents other than your own? - funny ones, mostly

What do you like on your toast? - spread, ham, cheese, tomato, cucumber, aromasalt, fried egg  - spread, liver patée, cucumber and aromasalt/pickles - spread, gravlax/tuna/salmon - spread, boiled egg slices, pickled herring (they come in jars, I prefer onion ones) in thinner slices, I add extra dill into the jars when I open them so they can marinate more. 

What is the last thing you drew a picture of? - currently working on a personal WIP

What would be you dream car? - A car that someone else drives. With air conditioning. 

Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. - no and no. I shower and then I’m done. I don’t like my voice, nor my body, nor wasting water. I do wash thoroughly though.

Do you believe in aliens? - It doesn’t interest me at all whether or not there is or isn’t. 

Do you often read your horoscope? - only if it’s the only thing left to read or if it’s just readily visible without me looking for it. I think they’re bogus, but sometimes admittedly silly.

What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? - H or lowercase T, because I write them very loopy. 

Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? - They’re both cool in their own ways. A dinosaur is way bigger but as fantasy creatures dragons can fly, breathe elements and shape-shift though, hard to top that. 

What do you think about babies? - Ew.

Tell something of your choice - If I had a cat, I’d name it Mishka or Meowkolash or Umi (sa, umineko ga inai to, “Umi” neko ga onaka ga suite iru) because I’m a nerd who loves umineko and bad jokes. 

#solemn rambles #ask solemn #or solemn asks themselves

[mguillenggr-blog]

In his grey room, a concrete square with grey walls and a dubious colored ceiling there was a map of the city and its surroundings. For hours, we spoke of how little did we know of its endless streets and neighborhoods. He took a pencil and a ruler from his desk, then traced a triangle that took up a twentieth part of the map and said “This is basically the space where our lives take place”. It seemed incredibly small, our insignificance felt real in this monster of a city, but how could that be? If we spent our time having conversations about the universe and God, about all the films we had ever seen; we had mighty great arguments over the nature of wars and the definition of power, spoken about the meaning of life and death. Lying there naked we felt endless and wise, as if time had stopped and we were our own city, our own country in ruins.

I always saw the same man while driving back home; he was about thirty, grey eyes, dark complexion, walking back and forth from the median to the cars in the corner of Miguel Ángel de Quevedo and Avenidad Universidad. He was mentally ill. His eyes would go into different directions. He moved his jaw in circles and made faces like an animal. There was always a blue can in his hands, that he used to collect money. He’d move awkwardly through the cars and took the alms without saying anything. He wouldn’t even look at the people just stretch his hands to the windows. I never heard him say full words, just grunts that were nowhere near a God bless you or thank you.  He didn’t owe anything to anyone and walked around in a dignified air. No fake humility, just a man getting enough money to get through the day. At least that’s what it looked like for so many years.

That day he was sitting on the grass carrying a baby. His face was dull, bored, and he just looked ahead with an empty expression, dog-tired, restless and yet perfectly still. The scene was extremely upsetting. There was something inappropriate and sad. A sense of authority came over me, as if I had the right to take the baby out of his hands. When I got home my mother listened to the story. She was perfectly calm. “He is the father of the child, he had it with a sixteen-year-old girl who asks for money in a corner nearby”. How did she know that? Apparently, someone she knew saw the exact same thing and thought it wasn’t right. So they called someone to report it, but the girl intervened saying they were married. The man kept  the baby sometimes when she went to buy food for them.

I felt nauseous. I felt the impulse to take the kid away, to punish the man. Why? For what? Suddenly we feel the need to be Good Samaritans. And isn’t it the exact opposite of that? Every day we see kids on the street asking for money, elderly women speaking in an indigenous tongue, barefoot, desperate. And yet that’s just part of the scenery, but when an imbecile is holding a baby you bet there’s going to be trouble, people want answers. Did he rape her? Is she underage? How does he manage to care for him without killing it? Suddenly a sense of morality comes through us and our eyes see something’s not right, even though nothing is, really. Some horrors seem greater than others, especially if we feel offended by them. 

And here I am mocking them even though I’m just like them. I know because it’s just impossible to get the picture out of my head.  His face. How he sat down and laid there, expressionless. Waiting for something. Not looking at the baby, holding it tightly, knowing it was his job, but hardly paying attention to him. Looking ahead, at nothing, nothing at all. Hijo de la nada y huérfano del mundo.

Those dots on the map were more than dots on a map. They were the invisible walls of Troy. A city within a city, and with its gardens and colonial houses it was far more real to us than the millions and millions of dark faces we would never meet, than the slums in the outskirts of the city. The distance wasn’t physical or geographical it was mental, the will to get away. We see the poverty, violence, misery; we see the ugliness, noise, pollution and chaos. We sit in traffic thinking about Finland and Denmark, about how those guys have it good. And we are so angry for not being Finnish or Danish, and we are angry at the children of the street and at the man with grey eyes because he’s a constant reminder of how far we are from Finland,Denmark, Sweden and heaven.

Because we are the citizens of the triangle. Those dots are the scenery of a play and we are characters.  It is the home of those who have grown with a mutilated spirit and mind. Of those in constant fear. Because deep down we know we aren’t good enough, we know it is all luck. Our parents worked so hard to put us through a good private school; they made sure we learned English and watched nice films while growing up. So many who travel abroad each year and dream of getting a master’s degree in the U.S or England. Our lives are so similar, they like to believe, to the lives of any middle-class boy or girl growing up in a developed country

And yet the illusion shatters day after day. The city crushes you. News break it to you, traffic lights, corners and corners wherever you go with faces asking for money, human hands reaching towards you. The look of children on the street, of mimes, and men dressed like clowns; of those who cover themselves in silver spray paint. The elderly, the ones that remind you of near death. How many of them? Millions. Misery as far as the eye can see. And yet  we feel we deserve more. Even though stories in the newspaper talk about people that spend 6 hours a day in the public transport getting from their homes to their work and vice versa. To earn 80 pesos, which is barely enough for anything. And we know about them, but we also know that if you think about it too much it is impossible not to feel sickened, disgusted, upset and annoyed. Most solutions are just elaborate ways to dissipate guilt. I'll be a politician and make a change, or become a doctor, maybe in the summer I'll go to Chiapas.

The truth is we're mutilated humans, cut out by fear. Those who tip toe because they know at any step something could happen to them. Solidarity is born from empathy, fear is born from distance. There is a sense of frailty, it constantly feels as if your existence belonged to chance, to injustice. An imaginary city populated by individuals who feel superior enough to keep ther distance but too aware of their mediocrity to stand out. Here, and everywhere else, the middle-class values stability, monotony, the sense of an equilibrium even within chaos. We are believers, we have to believe things will stay this way forever, otherwise what would become of us when our cover's blown? And so, the triangle is our way of keeping sane, of losing guilt and keeping them away. Of living the illusion until the ghosts creep in.