Writing Prompt #11

As a former librarian I'm actually required to remind you that many libraries that subscribe to Libby are opted into a program that lets you subscribe and access magazines for free with no wait

And that this is actually a really fun, low cost way to not only access news and larger cultural magazines, but also to get free patterns for many different crafts that you can screenshot if need be and that lower the financial barriers to entry for trying new things

From my experience working in both academic and public libraries, many libraries are use it or lose it funding-- I have to say this because a lot of patrons feel guilty for how much they use the library and how often they're using it funny enough, but the worst thing you can do for libraries is not try out new features and not use what's already given to you as much as possible.

The numbers that come as a result of your patronage are how most libraries justify their continued existence in times of financial hardship, which sucks but, go check out some magazines on Libby!

From The Anatomy Of a Character - Luna Azzurra *~*

themes commonly found in international friendships

- ‘u dont have (insert food/music/restaurant here) over there??’ - ‘wait what time is it. shouldnt u be asleep’ - alternatively: timezoned/clockblocked again - ‘do u need a hug. have a virtual hug’ - weird slang terms - ‘i will fight everyone thats mean to u. i will fight them rn’ - vague embarrassment regarding ur accent - ‘dont maKE ME COME OVER THERE’ - ‘oh yeah i have a friend who lives in (insert country here) and apparently’ - no real hugs :(( - suffering - fahrenheit vs celsius - the measuring of things in feet fucks one of u up, probably

sorry my fault

for some reason ive had to viciously fight the overwhelming urge to add “dawg” to my every day vocabulary for like, the entire past month. No one i know says it. where did it come from? why is it here?? how do i get it to stop??? no but seriously i think ive heard it like, twice my entire life how did it get into my brain and why wont it leave.

“Why do you write so much angst?” Because happiness is temporary, but emotional devastation is forever.

sometimes intimacy is a field standing between you and the person you want most.

What the hell even is intimacy anymore? It feels like that word is everywhere. ‘The intimacy of this, the intimacy of that’. It’s a little funny, how I seem to complain of that wording in spite of the opener of this post. But truth be told— I’m not complaining. Not about the core value and notion of the sentiment. Sure, I think people could be more original with titles— but that’s just a nitpick. I’m glad people are realising there’s an intimacy in almost everything. An intimacy in life’s small pleasures, an intimacy in perhaps a breakup or a falling out. Intimacy is a word that triggers the human psyche— brings intrigue and sometimes, I think, for a lot of us— it can bring a sense of anxiety. And with that being said— if your idea and sense of intimacy is not much beyond something like physical relations, well— then maybe you won’t understand the nuance of what I and a lot of other people are saying and coming to realise. Intimacy, in my eyes, goes so much beyond the physical. To be intimate— to look into the eyes of someone, to laugh, to cry, to be perceived. It’s all sickly intimate. Oh, as I type this in my late afternoon, I’m coming to realise how much I am hating that word. Simply because it has bern dulled down to nothing. Nothing everything has to be euphemistic, my possibly close-minded reader. Not everything in life is chalked up to a human hunger, lust.

For me? There’s nothing more intimate than distance. Between me and this hypothetical person, stands a field. And what is in that field? Well, it’s whatever I want it to be. Maybe it’s empty and sun bleached, maybe it’s lovely and green with a small pond and that long grass that snakes seem to love to hide in. Maybe it’s full of flowers— yellow ones. Because I know that they’re her favourite colour. What stands between this person is something only myself and they know. It’s between us— between two souls whom shall not utter a single word to eachother, for one reason or another. However, actions always weighed more than words. A glance to me may feel more intimate than a kiss— a kiss can only portray one or two things. But a glance? A glance is a glance into the soul of the other person. A glance can mean a million things? Is it the look of love? Lust? (Seeing how my generation seems to care about not much else)— or maybe it’s one or anger? Unspoken words that stay unspoken like a sin? Maybe you’ll look at me and I’ll have to wonder why it is you looked at me that way. What it is about me that caused the twitch of your left eye. I doubt I’ll ever know. But it’s intimate. I’d be exploring and guessing the inner workings of a brain that is not mine— my calloused fingers (probably calloused from doing this a million times over, mind you) shall run their course along the curves and crevices of one’s brain, perhaps one’s soul, should I want to look that deep. Maybe I’ll run my index and middle fingers along the valve of your heart. My curiosities metaphysical body will touch your unknown soul— isn’t that intimacy? For those who chalk intimacy up to physicalities, think of it metaphorically. There is an intimacy in everything. So much so that the word holds so little weight. But because it’s so humane— so every-day— that’s why it’s so important. That’s why it’s important to appreciate it. Breathing air is normal, but losing oxygen will kill you. Appreciate things. Appreciate the intimacy of life.

Writing is just aggressively whispering “Suffer.” at fictional people and then crying about it like it wasn’t your fault.

Love without Sex

I’m doing a Philosophy paper on Asexuality. Please reblog if you think Love without Sex is possible! I really need the data. Like if you think love has to have sex.