This Ant And I Are The Same Level Of Smooth.

The real reason I became a vegetarian.

Speaking Thoughtfully on the Suicide Hotline

I was experiencing heavy ideation, worried I may actually try to go through with it again. I decided to call before it was too late. I thought of my potential suicide in the most logical ways possible, giving myself true pros and cons, considering grey areas, realistic impact, etc. The person on the other line was clearly struggling. Eventually he admitted that they were trained for people who were in paroxysms, simply panicking about their situation, and he had no idea what to do with someone who thoroughly thought it out in a rational manner. He couldn't help me. After a while of speaking to me, he assumed from my relative calm and way of speaking that I wasn't in danger. He said "it sounds like you're going to be okay. I need to talk to other people calling." I felt even more alone and uncared for after calling. If not even the people whose job it is to care (volunteer or otherwise) seem to care about me, I felt it must truly be hopeless, that there was no reason to be around. Sharing hotline numbers is great. I'm sure the service has helped many people. I wanted to share my experience to potentially help people like me, who don't sob and cite purely emotional motivations (a different experience which is also terrible) so they know what they may be walking into at such a vulnerable moment.

Revenge Utopia

Where diurnals have to keep the noise level down during the day so nocturnals can get some friggin sleep.

Where the housed have a sunset curfew to keep the houseless safe.

Where various public servants are treated "like servants."

Where it's widely considered weird and gross to force someone to eat in a bathroom - including infants.

Where being attracted to someone regardless of their genitals is the default you see depicted, and not liking someone because of their genitalia is something you're fine with, you just don't want it influencing the children.

Where the common myth is that gay or het exists only as a phase before they grow out of liking one gender.

Where Duck Dynasty was cancelled after one season, and Firefly was renewed for ten.

Where the phrase "but they're your family" emphasizes how fucked up something is, not how much more "forgivable."

Tolkien: The actual battle isn’t that important. This is Bilbo’s story, and he’s not a warrior. Maybe I’ll just make him sleep through it. 

Warner Bros: You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. 

I've never seen a sex scene or post-sex scene in a movie or tv show in which any of the characters try repeatedly to pull a stray body hair from their mouth, and this was probably the most unrealistic expectation I received from Hollywood as a teen.

Friend: "I don't feel like watching another Doctor Who." Friend: *sees it's a Weeping Angel episode* Friend:*sits the fuck back down*

It's Not Just You, Supporting Your Suicidal Loved Ones. They're Supporting You Too.

I'm going to toot my own horn here, indirectly remind others with depression how great their work is, and directly tell those who are not suicidal to appreciate the work we do. Conversations about the relationships between suicidal and non-suicidal people are almost always framed as what *you* are doing to support *us.* That's an important topic, but talking about it to the exclusion of what *we* do for *you* is detrimental. There's an important element that suicidal people are constantly attacked for non-adherence, but when we *do* adhere to this unofficial "rule," we don't get recognition, much less respect and appreciation for it. We work our asses off to keep the struggle going FOR YOU. We don't want the people we care about to be sad. So we continue to live a life that is bad enough to prefer death (or, for many, not prefer death per se, so much as we want something to end, and death is or seems like the only way to achieve ending it). We could be doing this for a single day or several years, and everywhere in between. It's exhausting, mentally and physically. I have never had a job that was as hard as staying alive when I have an illness that literally makes me want to die. It's WORK. I don't have to put that work in. None of us do. If you have an at-risk loved one still hanging on, odds are it's because of the intensely difficult labor they put in to make sure you don't have to deal with loss just yet. Treat them like who and what they are. Treat them like someone who is immensely considerate of you, who routinely sacrifices what they want for you. Treat them like someone who has a hard job with long hours. Treat them like someone who has a chronic illness that is more manageable at some times than others.

"Pretty pretty rainbow!" -Me "YOU'RE a pretty pretty rainbow!" -My S.O.

Some Things Are Just Wrong.

It should be illegal to be a seamstress. Like, if you just want to sew as a hobby, that's fine, but look at children who are forced to work in sweatshops all day. You know no one would be in that industry if they had any other choice. It's really a public safety issue when you think about it, because all those people in a room with all those blades and needles - that's bloodborne illness waiting to be spread. Not to mention it's just another example of demeaning and exploiting women, because it's almost always women. The people we really need to go after, though, are their employers. I don't know what's worse, that they pay the seamstresses for the "labor" they provide, or that the employer forces the seamstress to cede a portion of her payment in return for facilitating her "work." I can't believe some people seriously call it "work," like it's legitimate. Just because you provide a service and get paid for it doesn't make it work, and we all know it. -Some of the inanity that sex workers have to deal with constantly.

Friend: "What's your favorite food?" Me: "Synthetic neurotransmitters." Friend: "What?" Me: "What?"