Hey y'all. With the Writer's Guild of America on strike, you might be hearing a lot more about something called "residuals," which are payments that the writers get for the studios continuing to air their work on reruns and such. Already I'm seeing people trying to frame the union trying to bargain for better residuals as greedy and unreasonable, so I just wanted to give you guys a peek into my dad's full, 100% real residual payments for writing some of the most watched episodes of American late night television.
Yeah lol. If u hear anyone trying to frame the conversation around residuals as writers being greedy, please do me a favor and punch them straight in the face ❤️🙃🙃
THE LITTLE MERMAID (1989) dir. John Musker & Ron Clements THE LITTLE MERMAID (2023) dir. Rob Marshall
Chim: hey where’s Buck?
Hen: I don’t know, hold on. We’ll find him, just look at Eddie.
Chim: *looking at Eddie* Buck isn’t with him though.
Hen: just follow his line of sight.
Hen & Chim: *follows Eddie’s eyes to See Buck standing across the room talking to someone else*
Chim: oh my god-
Hen: yeah, that works 90 percent of the time 🙄
i know a lot of people feel like you can't enjoy how a trans person looks until after surgery or hormones, but there are a lot of pre-everything trans aesthetics that i quite enjoy. i love trans men and transmascs who dye their already present mustaches to be dark and bold. it's sexy and cute. i love trans women with flat chests who wear deep cut shirts and dresses. it's sexy. i love the way transmasc and transfem voices sound before hormones. i love watching someone evolve. it's an extremely beautiful part of the journey, and should be appreciated, too
if you can’t get store-bought forehead touches for your finale, homemade will do just fine :-)
Halle Bailey + The Little Mermaid press tour looks
Let's be real for a moment here. Forcing every human being everywhere to convert and conform to one belief, aka your belief, is a form of colonization and cultural genocide, no matter if it's a religion or atheism.
Some of y'all are basically repackaging colonial conservative Christian hegemony with a progressive bow wrapped around it.
*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of harassment, panic attacks, PTSD symptoms, anxiety, threats of physical violence. Mentions of trauma, abuse, bipolar depression, PTSD, anxiety, coping, self deprecating thoughts, dark humor.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023
12:06pm
This is the letter that I wrote to my older (half) sister, before the texts in Part 1 the next day.
Here’s what I said to her:
“Hey Angel… I think it’s time we talk about the distance that we both have experiencing. Honestly, I don’t even know how the distance started, but it’s something that I fell into and followed. I would like to talk when you’re ready because it’s necessary that we do. That we talk about everything for as long as we both need, and that we come into this conversation ready and willing to hear each other out. Just let me know.”
“I was in such a dark place when this all started. I think after looking back on it, that I never took the time to properly explain what happened, what’s been happening…
As you know, I’ve had such an extensive amount of trauma, especially from my supposed father-figures. It was September… I was on a shuttle, trying to get to my rehearsal for dance on a Sunday afternoon. I stepped onto the shuttle, wearing my headphones, listening to the same playlist that I do before I dance. It’s my… ritual, the thing that grounds me, calms me, but also, psyches me up to go. And, that’s the paradoxical thing about having anxiety as well as bipolar depression; you have to calm yourself down in order to build yourself up to feel excited.
In that process, I missed the driver telling everyone to not get on if they were not going to the next stop, which would unfold in our confrontation.
I got on the bus, and when we arrived at the next stop, I didn’t get off the bus, which was odd, but not too unusual… until I noticed the yelling. I took out my earbuds to hear the driver yelling, and it took me a second to realize that he was yelling at me. He was trying to force me off the bus because I apparently wasn’t supposed to be on otherwise.
I was confused, and shocked, and frightened, but I found the courage to ask why. I didn’t know at the time that he had said that he would swing back around to get the people going to main campus. I got frustrated with how he was acting, because we would get there eventually ‘cause the route is continuous, as all bus routes are, but he kept getting more aggressive as he was trying to force me off. His reasoning was, “because he said so”, instead of any semblance of reason. It reached the point where other students were getting on to return home, and that spurred him to park the bus, say that he wasn’t moving until I got off, and threatened to call the police or physically removing me himself. I was panicked, so I did what my mind told me to do in the moment. I made my way off, asked for his name, which was like pulling teeth, and tried to call the office to make a complaint. He drove away, I was officially late to rehearsal, and then, I realized that I had no idea where I was.
My anxiety was building exponentially as I called the transportation office 3 times with no response before I realized there wasn’t going to be, because they are closed on the weekends. I then tried calling all my friends, with cars, to see if they could pick me up to no avail. Then, I had my first panic attack on the curb of a parking lot in an unfamiliar place, while people walked by with odd stares and no concern for me. Then, I tried calling all and any family I could, my mom, you, Camille, and Auntie Roz and Auntie Julie, but no one answered.
Cue my second panic attack.
A friend called me back, I explained the situation, but they couldn’t come get me. So, I made the decision to call an Uber with the last $11 I had. On the drive, my mom called to see what was going on. She responded to the story by saying “Get over it”. Not understanding how triggering it was for me, or caring for how upset or shaken I was. I got out of the Uber, had my third panic attack in 40 minutes, and after, I noticed the time.
Rehearsal was over, and I cried.
I called my professor to apologize and after I explained what happened, he Venmo’d me for the Uber, but that’s where the resolution of the incident stopped. I did end up filing a complaint, and they took my side, but didn’t act on any of the solutions I asked for. After that, well, I spiraled.
Part 1 -- Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of abuse, nightmares, neglect, PTSD symptoms, and depressive feelings.*
Saturday, Oct. 22nd, 2022 Part 3
10:30pm
I had a nightmare last night that repeatedly woke me up. I didn’t remember it until I was writing in my other journal. Last night, my Papa told me that my stepdad, James, came with my Mom to California to visit, which in hindsight, I should have realized that sooner. We talked about James being there and how Papa would react to meeting him for the first time, but initially, I was just joking around. It wasn’t until the nightmare that I realized how triggered I truly am by James.
It was about my Papa confronting James about his abusive treatment of my brother and I after getting upset. The situation was really aggressive and resulted in my Mom packing up their things and leaving early, while ending things with Papa.
I find it a little defeating and irritating that James still sets me off after all this time. I don’t think I’ve processed that trauma at all, and it clearly still affects me. I’m still harboring all this hurt and trauma from both him and my Mom. From the moment that man entered our lives, my mother stopped being a mom to me when I needed her to be. I’m disappointed and full of rage towards her and what my childhood was like from that point onward. I really don’t understand why I still talk to her, other than holding out hope.
I want so many things for my mother that I not only grieve my childhood, but also her experience. She is so powerful, resilient, and intelligent, but James stunts all of that. I wish that she felt that she could stand alone, and realize that she does not need him to carry on. I wish that she could have everything that she needs and wants, just not with him.
Now, I also wish that she had those things for my own benefit as well. To have a mother who is not trapped by a narcissistic man. She has only ever fulfilled his wants and desires and prioritized him, while neglecting me. I love my mother to death, but I also resent her. All because of her love life choices. I wish things were different…
I think that I need all the time I can have away from college, so that I can focus on myself and heal. I have so many desires that I want in this world, but it feels like it will never happen. I need the strongest reminder that things are going to be okay, that I will still have a chance, and that things are not over yet. Because I have not suffered through so much for this to be the end. I deserve to be on this journey to heal and I deserve every good thing coming.
Part 1 -- Part 2
Discovering and Rediscovering Me, while Adapting, Changing, and Evolving along the Way - Public Diary21 y/o Black, Non-Binary, Queer Individual with Dreams, and a Life to Live and a Story to Share TW: Abuse, Su*c*de Attempt, Su*c*dal Ideation, Depression, Anxiety
162 posts