#well well well. if it isn't the-
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In the latest installment of me Terrorizing Medical Professionals, I got my Wisdom Teeth extracted because one decided to be an asshole and the other 3 were pending assholery, and demonstrated to my dentist that it's entirely possible to out-metabolize Ketamine if you start moving ASAP and also have a freakishly powerful liver.
So yesterday I had my one-month Checkup. It went pretty great, and the dentist asked if any part of my mouth was bothering me.
"Yeah, there's a sharp bit of bone coming out through the side from the extraction in my lower right jaw. The bone spur itself doesn't hurt, but it keeps cutting my tongue, so can you just pull it?"
"Oh. Sure! Let me go get everything to do that." she said, and went to go get the tools for the extraction.
...Then there was some kind of confusion at the front desk I could overhear, with someone showing up with an urgent problem and they had to juggle the available staff, so she came back a bit later with the Pliers, said something about something taking "long enough" and went in.
It came out in two pieces, and the most discomfort I had was like, a 3/10 from the extraction itself, but mostly from keeping my mouth open.
...About halfway through, the Hygienist came in, apologizing for being late getting back from the front desk.
"Oh good, you have her the Novocaine!" the hygienist sighs with relief.
"What?" Said my dentist.
"What?" said the hygienist.
Both of them turn to look at the very full syringe on the tool table behind me.
"Honestly this is bothering me way less than the shot would." I said, lightly dribbling blood, and they both turn to me in horror.
"I really hate needles." I explain.
"What." says the dentist.
"Woah." Says the hygienist. "You would have done great in like, The Civil War."
Which is probably the funniest thing anyone's every said about my dangerously high pain tolerance.
Anyway, it was a one-off issue, and a non-issue for me because I think a normal person would have stopped her, so I go back in August if she doesn't recommend me to someone else for terrifying her twice in as many visits.
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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i'm surprised on how quickly i warmed up to damian's 2021 redesign, but i wish they kept his combat boots! i feel like they're just as iconic as his hood-cape when it comes to his signature look 💔
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I think there's no greater indication that disco elysium is sympathetic towards communism when it literally says "communism is failure" and then the literal gameplay itself rewards trying and failing. The most obvious one being the Shivers check at the FELD mural, which is an Impossible 20 check BUT opens itself up again and again the longer you spend in the world doing things, but even just looking at sheer probabilities, for any given white check, rolling first and THEN putting a point into that skill upon failure is more likely to grant you success than putting a point first and then rolling, but that would require failing first.
Other things too: Precarious world saying you'll 100% fail red checks no matter what (not necessarily a bad thing, btw!! throwing the boule into the sea is a success but like. in some other ways one would want a perfect petanque throw instead. but people wouldn't typically assume that failure is desirable sometimes from the start) persuading you to accept that you'll fail some things that is irrevocable, for a world where everything is just a tiny bit easier.
The faux game over screen when you faint after reading Dora's letter— emulating a sense of failure on the scale of the entire game. When it rolls up most people go "What?? Game over?? No way, what did I do wrong!!" and waking up after that, with no huge or lasting impact on Harry's health or morale really tells the player, "Sometimes things will seem so bad that it all seems like it's coming to an end, but it's not the end, it's really not the end, go drink so water, you can still go on despite this failure"
I'm sure there are other things as well that are eluding me but like. The literal gameplay rewards failing and succeeding far more so than simply succeeding every single time, and I think you get a fuller experience of Elysium that way too
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i may be skeptical abt labru, but there's no denying how much laios is on kabru's mind jfc
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I'm sure a million people have already written about this and better than I ever could, but there are so many hypocritical moments in the hunger games that stick with me. the way the capital citizens gasp and are furious at the flag being torn down, but not at the dead children directly under it. the way they riot after peeta says "if it weren't for the baby" as if they don't watch children slaughter each other every year. the list could go on.
those moments are something I think of daily, just given the current political climate in america. suzanne collins really took a mirror right to our society and nailed it. makes me insane to think about it too much
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Bruce and Clark start dating and Clark finds himself spending more time around the batkids and whenever he's losing an argument he just says "yeah? well I fucked your dad."
It's very effective.
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Danny's parents take him on vacation to Metropolis.
They go to talk to some guy named Lex Luthor, but Danny isn't worried. He already tampered with literally everything they'd show to Luthor, rewrote the formulae used on the blueprints so that they made no sense, and Jazz was staying with them to play the straightman to their insanity and convince Luthor they weren't worth paying attention to.
Which left Danny with spending money and free reign of Metropolis.
So he went to a hot dog vendor, because who wouldn't want a hot dog that didn't try to fight back?
Then there's this...puff of air. Right behind him. Right as the vendor is giving him his hot dog. And it feels like someone, something, strong.
So in front of Metropolitans, CCTV, the vendor, and the gods, Danny reacts on instinct; he whips around and decks the threat.
Right through a wall.
Yeah.
Danny Fenton, nerd and bully-bait, just punched Superman through a wall.
In front of E V E R Y O N E.
Superman comes up from it, actually holding a hand against his ribs, very confused. He'd just been about to get a hot dog, what villain had attacked-?
Oh.
Oh, it's that scared, terrified looking teenager on the verge of hyperventilating. That's who punched him.
So this was clearly an accident, then. No one would do that deliberately and look so horrified.
Superman straightens and holds out his hands in a sign of peace-
Then the kid disappears out of thin air.
Across the city, Lex Luthor watches his phone, expressionless, as a meta with the power to suckerpunch Superman disappears from the feeds.
Facial recognition already made him as the son of the very buffoons in front of him, who successfully managed to waste two whole hours of his time.
Well.
They can pay it back by being involuntary guests while he has a little chat with dear Daniel.
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christ sometimes I just wanna. steal a time machine & go back & sit down next to my 9-year-old self and just like. let them pull out their pokemon card binder & gush about their holographic gyarados or whatever. I'd just smile & ask questions about motherfukcing bulbasaur & tell my kid self that I thought they were a neat person, & someday they'd find other people who thought so too.
like i'm a grown adult who honestly finds most kids stuff boring, but. damn if i could go back & hang out with my baby self & listen to them ramble...just so they knew someone was listening. i would in a heartbeat. thinking about u kid
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hey btw if you're in the USA at 2:20 p.m. ET on Wednesday, Oct. 4, they're testing the emergency broadcast system. your phone is probably going to make a really loud noise, even if it's on silent. there's a backup date on the 11th if they need to postpone it.
if you're not in a safe situation and have an extra phone, you should turn that phone completely off beforehand.
additionally, if you're like me, and are easily startled; i recommend treating it like a party. have a countdown or something. be surrounded by your loved ones. take the actions you personally need to take to make yourself safe.
i have already seen mockery towards any person who feels nervous about this. for the record, it completely, completely valid to have "emergency broadcast sounds" be an anxiety trigger. do not let other people make fun of you for that. emergency sounds are legitimately engineered to make us take action; those of us with high levels of anxiety and/or neurodivergence are already pre-disposed to have a Bad Time. sometimes it is best to acknowledge that the situation will be triggering for some, and to prepare for that; rather than just saying "well that's stupid, it's just a test."
"loud scary sound time" isn't like, my favorite thing, but we can at least try to prevent some additional anxiety by preparing for it. maybe get yourself a cake? noise cancelling headphones? the new hozier album? whatever helps. love u, hope you're okay. we are gonna ride it out together.
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i feel like people are sleeping on the occam's razor situation of how buckwild it is to outright accuse a guy of being a clone of your friend even if you DO have a lot of circumstantial evidence. there's other options is what im saying. they could just be like. a guy. that's a sensible deduction. you should explore that deduction. ignore my shirt that reads I <3 RED HERRINGS.
i still think odile has the correct theory on lock but she's smart enough to know it needs like... a real smoking gun to be able to bring it up without sounding insane.
anyway. (mirabelle voice) i know its rude to speculate but has anyone else noticed the grieving? they seem to be grieving. does anyone have any thoughts on the grieving? i have some thoughts on the grieving.
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aaa games: we have some of the most CUTTING EDGE character customization options for you!! you can't make them fat tho, only cause we'd have to design more clothing models and adjust the animation for them and we just don't have the resources for that haha you understand right. that's totally the only reason we don't let you do that. anyways which of these 6 cocks would you like your character to have
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Danny, Sam and Tucker co-own a resturant. (Yes this is going exactly how you think if u got it) Danny makes the mascots, Tucker supplies the coding and Sam is both their biggest donor and takes over the vegan menu.
Surprisingly, the resturant goes extremely well and so far hasn't been robbed even though they're in Gotham.
They hire a nightguard just in case.
However, none of the three knew that a few specific ghosts keep coming back every night to possess the animatronics and have their fun while also throwing out intruders.
Jason Todd thinks that his bosses should've at the very least told him their mascots would try to put him in the grave again.
(They aren't but he doesn't know that and they don't know he's supposed to be here.)
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