Mostly I Reblog So I Can Look At Things Again

Happiness Will Come To You.

If you experienced trauma in childhood or had a rough childhood, dude listen to me. Offer yourself play. You were deprived of it.

Keep bubbles in the house, blow bubbles in the yard, blow them in your room, get a coloring book that doesn’t have to be an adult one with mandalas, watch cartoons, laugh at stupid things, dress up as a superhero for Halloween, wear a Santa hat on Christmas and big light up snowflake earrings, lay down on the floor, lay down in the grass, eat eggos for dinner sometimes. It’s not stupid. You’re not childish. You’re giving your inner child what they had taken from them. They deserve it.

Yup.

No single line has ever wrecked me as hard as this one from the Good Place and I think about it constantly

HARRIS 2024

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

feeling validated, heard, seen, and acknowledged in a friendship is so important. it’s the most beautiful feeling i think. being able to tell someone the most private feelings, exposing yourself at the most vulnerable, and being met with empathy, understanding, and confirmation that you’re not just being whiny, spoiled, ungrateful, or any of the other self-deprecating things you tell yourself you are when you’re breaking down. to have someone bring you back to reality when you’re busy minimising your struggles, yeah, that’s really beautiful and it’s truthful. someone who sees you where you are exactly as you are, not better or worse. just you. that’s so important in a friendship. definitely the most beautiful feeling.

reblog if you worried about your abusive parent more than they ever worried about you

You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.

So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.

But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.

The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.

It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.

This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."

And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.

Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.

I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.

This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.

Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.

Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.

So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?

And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.

They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.

If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.

If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."

But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.

Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.

If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.

What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.

Today I'm deleting podcasts.

Okay but like Aziraphale asking Crowley for things isn't just for Aziraphale. In fact it's often something Aziraphale does for Crowley. If Aziraphale asks, even wordlessly, this creates a scenario where Crowley is allowed to do something nice for someone while being allowed to hide it behind the context of an eye roll or an if you insist. It puts a degree of removal between Crowley and the act itself that makes it easier and safer for him to do. Crowley likes to do nice things. Aziraphale knows this. Just like Crowley knows Aziraphale likes to be cared for. They've stumbled this way into this mutually beneficial act where Aziraphale gets to indulge in being indulged and Crowley gets to indulge in doing the indulging - which are both things they do not normally get to indulge in - because they're complimentary even in this.

Asking the being that just quoted poetry at you to save this dying play you're both watching. Creating scenarios for him to rescue you when you know he loves the chance to get to save someone for once. Letting him drive you both around in his fancy new machine he's so delightfully proud of even though you got a license the same year he got the car. Asking him to remove a stain so he can act like you're the dramatic one while taking all the joy in theatrically removing it for you. They're all acts of mutual care and love. Because they're both so hopelessly smitten with another they can't help themselves from indulging the other.

in batman 2022 bruce wayne's parents were killed in 2001 he would have been like 10? i think. the black parade was released in 2006 when he would have been ambiguously high school aged and obviously very emo and unpopular. what i'm saying here is that i think battinson heard the lyrics "when i was a young boy my father took me into the city to see a marching band he said son when you grow up will you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned" and decided to become batman then and there.