anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Ok so… when am I going to get chased by my true love in a labyrinth of rosebushes at night after we snuck out of the ballroom?? bitch?
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Nick Drake // Pink Moon
One of the preeminent lyrical geniuses of the 20th century. Tortured manic-depressive, haunted insomniac, creative impresario, beautiful soul. Died at 26. When I think of him, this quote comes to mind…
“What though the radiance that was once so bright, be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; we will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind…" - Wordsworth
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
Lisa Marie Basile, from “Light Magic for Dark Times,” published c. 2018
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
The thing about Tumblr that probably makes me saddest is the underlying assumption that women past a certain age (which seems to be about 25?) stop having any sort of outside interests beyond family/career/kids. Like, y’all are always so shocked that grown women have lives and can fangirl as hard as we did as teenagers.
It makes me sad not because it makes me feel old (although it does), but because these younger women are constricting their own lives–they fully expect that this will happen to them someday. Y’all deserve better. Y’all deserve to EXPECT better.
And worse than that, the idea that there’s something WRONG with a grown woman who has other interests.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
alwayshometomarvel
One of the biggest things I realized growing up?
It doesn’t happen.
You expect somehow you will change when you are finally An Adult™. You’ll stop enjoying the things you enjoy now for something more “adult” or “mature.” You’ll FEEL like an adult and not like a child anymore. You’ll feel comfortable and secure and not scared and unsure and confused. You expect you will feel like you have your shit together.
But I can tell you that it doesn’t happen. You’ll still feel like the “you” you were at 15 or 17 or 19.
You just have these…things to deal with. Like rent. And insurance.
You have a job either because a) you like it or b) it keeps the lights and internet on.
You’ll look up from fangirling one day and realize “Shit. I am twenty eight years old. That’s almost 30!” Or maybe it will be that you look down at the small child clasped around your legs and realize “That is my child. I have a child. A human being child.” Or maybe it will be that you have to negotiate your budget around con tickets AND a mortgage payment.
Growing up isn’t a thing that happens.
It’s a realization that it doesn’t happen.
Holy shit, y’all. There are some AMAZING responses to this post. Yes, everything alwayshometomarvel says. All that.
Feeling like I wasn’t ‘adult’ enough fucked me up for years. I would cry at night and feel like a total piece of shit because I was married with a kid, and yet I still did ‘not adult’ things–I played MMOs, I cosplayed and went to conventions, I drew fan art and wrote fan fic. I kept waiting for the day that I would wake up and realize that what I really needed to be doing was the laundry, cleaning the house, making dinner every night, etc. Basically, be the ‘perfect’ wife and mother.
And somewhere between then and now, I somehow managed to tell myself…fuck it. I AM an adult. I go to work every day and pay the bills and help raise my son and take care of the house. I do legit adult things. AND I play MMOs, go to conventions, and participate in fandom. And THAT’S OKAY. I’m 32 years old now and finally at peace with that part of myself. (Having a supportive husband and kid doesn’t hurt either!)
All of this is such truth. Believing these things about growing up, and especially about being over 25? Really made it hard for me when I turned 30.
I was literally suicidal on my 30th birthday. I spent the whole day in tears. I felt like I had died and my life was now worthless and small and never going to be hopeful or full of promise or fun again. I felt like killing myself on my birthday because I bought into this lie that somewhere after your mid-twenties, you diminish as a woman because the only thing that made you alive and shiny was your youth.
I’m 31 now and I’m done with that shit. I’m over it. I don’t care if you think I’m too old for something. If I’m an old lady in Tumblr terms, then I’m past the legal age where I’m obligated to care what you think.
So, I’m telling you girls out there right now who are in your teens and twenties, get rid of this idea of what older women are “supposed” to look like. Get rid of this idea that “soccer moms” don’t play video games or that all women over 25 should be married and contemplating kids. Get rid of the idea that fanfic and fandom and fun things are for “kids.”
Mostly, get rid of this notion that the only thing really valuable about you is your youth. Youth is part of life, but it’s not the most valuable or beautiful or exciting time of your life. I like my life at 30 about 1000% than I did at 15, 18, 20, even 25.
on her deathbed, my grandmother pulled my mom close to her and said, “i don’t feel old. i don’t know how i’m supposed to feel. but inside, i still feel seventeen.” when I was a teenager, I used to think that story was sad; sad and strange somehow, like she’d been frozen in time. but now that i am a woman in my thirties, I understand. I understand her. I am a grown woman in the ways that matter. I listen to myself more, trust my experience more. but inside? I still feel the joy and rage and mess; I am still changing. we’re not frozen in time. we are just still growing.
the more we acknowledge that modern “adulthood” is largely a concept designed to sell vacuums and sedans, and not an arbitrary total overhaul of self at age 35, the more we can admit our ongoing capacity– no, our ongoing NEED for play and playfulness and exploration. those are childish things we should never have to put away.
bless this post, i needed to hear this so badly. i so often tear myself down with negative self talk, thinking i’m a failure before i’ve even really begun, because it has taken me ‘so long’ [i.e. just longer than some] to begin. when, realistically, i’m only in my mid twenties, and i have time. and in a sense i have already begun; albeit on a different path than i, or anyone else in my life, expected to take. i am allowed to be whoever and whatever i happen to be at whatever stage of life i happen to be without the pressure to attain certain socially expected and imposed goals and honorifics. on my 23rd birthday i sat sobbing on my bathroom floor with a bottle of cheap wine, alone, grieving for the years, the opportunities, i had ‘lost’ to my chronic pain, my mental illness, and my ptsd. when again, realistically, these years have been periods of tremendous growth, transformation, catharsis, and introspection. these have been integral to the makeup of my character as it is today, and i know that if it were possible i wouldn’t alter them to meet a standard. i am where i need to be, i am enough. i do have contradictory, warring voices in my head, and sometimes the disparaging one wins the argument that day, and sometimes it doesn’t. but, the more positive affirming messages i read, the more i repeat them to myself, the harder it is for the negative ones, the FALSE ones, to be heard over the cacophonous bolstering positivity, over the love and acceptance i am learning to have for myself… i digress. i just wanted to add my textual hug to this beautiful post of textual supportive hugs/spiels. you are all lovely ever-evolving creatures xx
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Eartha Kitt | I’d Rather Be Burned As A Witch
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Cate Blanchett for Vogue, December 2004
Photographed by Annie Leibovitz
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
The rape joke is that you were eight.
The rape joke is that at the time,
you didn’t know people had sex to express love.
The rape joke is that the only other person
who’d seen you naked was your mom.
The rape joke is that he called you ‘beautiful’ first.
The rape joke is that he held your hands together
and told you to ‘try harder’ when you struggled.
The rape joke is that you believed him
when he told you were overreacting.
The rape joke is that your grandma
called him a nice boy and asked him to stay for dinner.
The rape joke is that he winked at you
when you apologized to your parents for not coming
downstairs the first time you were called.
The rape joke is that his friends
high-fived him for “getting some.”
The rape joke is that you still don’t feel like
you’ve regrown the pieces he stole.
The rape joke is that he was conceived when his
dad slapped himself into his snoring mother.
The rape joke is that her friends told her
she was lucky someone wanted her.
The rape joke is that each year in the United States,
32,000 other women’s bellies
ripen with life against their will.
The rape joke is that he never learned
to touch without scarring.
The rape joke is that your classmate thinks
‘have you seen what asses look like in yoga pants?’
is an argument.
The rape joke is your new boyfriend kissing
you and telling you he ‘raped’ his math test.
The rape joke is that ‘Why are girls so scared of rape? Y’all should feel pride that a guy risked his life in jail just to fuck you’
is a popular Tweet right now.
The rape joke is that you wake up to
the memory of him laughing,
“now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
The rape joke is that it’s been twelve years and
you still quiver when someone touches you.
The rape joke is that he hasn’t stopped laughing.
The rape joke is that you forgot how to.
The Rape Joke | Lora Mathis Inspired by this
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Detail of percussion target pistol, attributed to Antoine Vechte, c. 1850
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
The Head and the Heart | Lost in My Mind
How’s that bricklayin’ comin’? How’s your engine runnin’? Is that bridge gettin’ built? Are your hands gettin’ filled? We can start moving forward …
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
There is no better.
Only (for a short space)
the night sky like
a quarantine that sets you
apart from your task.
Only (softly, fiercely)
the stars shining. Here,
in the room, in the bedroom.
Saying I was brave, I resisted,
I set myself on fire.
Louise Glück, from “Stars”, The Seven Ages (via anenlighteningellipses)