lays in bed staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night wondering if I’ll ever be able to move out of the house and be financially stable and follow my dreams and be happy and pay bills and do taxes and still be able to feed myself and to be able to follow my dreams and be happy and be a full functioning adult all at the same time and to be happy
(via andrewmnyard)
So I finally got another job (after 7 weeks unemployed, thank god for credit cards, ((oh hello debt))), and tomorrow’s shift starts at 5am. That means I’ve gotta be up by 4am to get ready & get there on time.
*looks at clock, which says 11:20pm*
Never let anyone tell you that adults have got all their ducks in a row. Whoever says it is lying.
On the bright side: The job itself isn’t glamorous on the outside, but I really respect the company for its stance on big topics and its treatment of its employees. I worked for it before, for the four years I was in San Francisco, so I know what I’m getting into & I trust the company to take care of me. unlike the hellhole I walked out of in July
And at the very least, I’ll get a lot of free coffee in the morning to make up for tonight’s tragic mistakes. ;D
I Hate Children
Maybe I should clarify:
I hate the culture of children.
It’s not really children, per se. Granted, I’m not fond of them being around, I don’t want one in my house or very often in my immediate presence, and I especially don’t like it if I have to watch one that can’t even talk coherently let alone understand what I’m saying, but all this is because I have no patience and no strong maternal instincts to speak of.
If I’m out in public somewhere and a child looks at me, I will smile at it. If I see a video or gif of a child doing something adorable, I might coo and share it. I don’t actively go out of my way to upset children or even discuss them with most people.
But I hate with all my being the culture that surrounds the concept of children.
There’s an overwhelming societal expectation of a beuterused person that they must not only have children (usually multiple), but that they must desperately want children, often to the exclusion of all else. It’s tied very much into the notion that everyone is supposed to get married and promptly produce offspring and put themselves neatly into heteronormative traditional gender roles so as to be a good adult and a “productive member of society.” Indeed, the mere presence of breasts and a presumed uterus is indicative that a person’s worth is whether or not they reproduce.
And it’s this idea that infests every conversation about health or future or family. It’s this concept that makes those of us who do not want children (especially biologically) have to constantly brace ourselves for potential arguments when we talk about any of these things.
It’s the reason I had to switch doctors when my first one kept insisting that “the ideal” was for me to “remain a virgin until marriage and then marry a virgin before having children.” It’s the reason people with vaginas require checkups for “reproductive health” to make sure everything is “functioning correctly for reproduction” instead of just to make sure things don’t hurt/aren’t infected/need attention. It’s the reason we see language used like “baby-making” for het sex with no stated reproductive intent, why the term “biological clock” is still exclusively used in regards to reproduction, and why there is an over-emphasis on pregnancy and reproduction language in sex (“baby goo,” “baby batter,” “gonna make a baby in you,” etc.). It’s why there’s still so much debate over who gets a say in pregnancy, why pregnancy is still terrifyingly often referred to as a punishment or as a means to control the beuterused. It’s the reason why family, friends, and even strangers feel completely within their rights to ask you about your reproductive plans, to make you justify all of your life choices to them at a moment’s notice, to question your thoughts and beliefs as if they know you better than you do yourself.
It’s the reason why the questions are so intensive when someone asks for lasting birth control. It’s the reasons why we are told over and over the rate of regret, the success stories of people who changed their minds, the horror stories of those who didn’t. It’s the reason why, when you state that you have a “phobia of pregnancy” in the hope that it will make people stop asking you without making you explain yourself or justify your feelings for the umpteenth time, the only advice you get is, “Well, that needs to be fixed before anything else.”
It’s the reason why “because I don’t want children” isn’t enough. It’s the reason why adoption is never seen as an option because “you’ll want some of your own someday.” It’s the reason why people put such value on “extending the family line” and “continuing the family name.”
It’s the reason I have to say I hate children for people to stop questioning me. It’s the reason I have to monitor my conversations with certain people because they’ll say, “Ah, see, you DO like kids!!” It’s the reason parts of my dysphoria kick in hard when I see the sort of things mentioned above. Because, unless something happens to remove or damage a uterus, it is not only expected, but demanded of you to know why you’re refusing “the most precious gift on Earth,” “your womanly duty,” “the greatest love you’ll ever know,” and so forth.
It’s the reason why “I hate children” is rolled off my tongue more and more until finally people just stop talking.
But I don’t hate children.
I hate the culture of children.
I hate the misogyny that surrounds pregnancy.
Most of all, I hate the people who perpetuate this culture, who deny someone else the right to say they don’t want to be part of it, who threaten to make them part of it.
But, you know, it’s so much easier to just say I hate children.
“It’s the reason why “I hate children” is rolled off my tongue more and more until finally people just stop talking.“
I can’t even count how many times I used this line at my last job. I said it until my mouth went numb and the arguments finally stopped. For a while they understood it as a shock value answer, but eventually they believed me. It got to the point that they stopped joking about loaning me someone to knock me up and started joking that they had to hide their kids’ pictures whenever I walked past their desks.
It was also significantly easier to say “I hate children” than to tell people “I’m ace”. I made that mistake exactly twice at that job, and I said Fuck this I’m not getting into this one more time.
Adding a cut because there’s a bit of gore/violence in this post and some people might not wanna see it on their dash? I don’t think it’s that bad, but this is me we’re talking about, and I am attempting to learn social niceties. :O
If you are on mobile and this cut doesn’t work for you, uh, sorry.
saw it was mentioned in one of korakos‘ posts and holy shit this is so andreil it hurts????
OMG OMG OMG ANBERLIN MY BBS, MY PRECIOUS, MY FAVORITE
mysoulforcoffee introduced me to them and there was no going back. I’ve kept their 2008 concert ticket in my wallet ever since we went to see them in San Francisco that first time. They sang Paperthin Hymn. They also sang (*FIN) and I could have cried.
((FIN is Andrew&Bee’s song))
((Paperthin Hymn has more meaning, but FIN is like I feel like hurting what should I listen to))
((sort of like Kelly Clarkson’s SOBER))
I bought several of their CDs while I was in Japan, so their music is intrinsically tied to the three of the things that had the most impact on my life: The Foxhole Court, Japan, and Weiß Kreuz.
((They broke up recently, because they wanted to end things before the pressure of success wore them down, before they started becoming a MORE OF THE SAME band, before they stopped loving the music they were making. I went back to San Francisco while they were on their final tour, because I needed to end it where I started it. Bought a t-shirt after the show — the only article of clothing that hides in the back corner of my closet where daily wear & tear won’t ruin it, because if it gets damaged in any way I will not recover.))
tagged by wasdplz who was obviously cheating bc she knows most of these answers
1. Nono
2. Brown
3. Brown (Gray)
4. When I played soccer I had two jersey numbers, because our school had such a rag-tag mix of jerseys that the number I wanted wasn’t available in both Home & Away colors. So I was one number when I was home and another when we were away.
5. Black
6. Kyoto, Japan
7. Angelina Jolie
8. Cats
9. Paperthin Hymn, by Anberlin ((the original theme song for the fox books))
10. That Book by mysoulforcoffee
Tagging mysoulforcoffee if she’s interested, and the Foxes either way.
if the heavens ever did speak
she’s the last true mouthpiece
every sunday’s getting more bleak
a fresh poison each weekunrealitycw have a Super Gay version of take me to church
#i PROMISE its been too long since you’ve listened to this cover #i dont care if you listened to it five minutes ago its been too long
(via andrewmnyard)
sending “I hope you get that job” vibes to the people out here tryna get jobs
reblogging for yall bc the shit worked for me lol
(via januariat)
A couple months ago I remember warning my friend aionwatha not to get me started talking about Foxhole Court because once I get going I will not shut up. I can’t–it’s like a disease, a consequence of playing with (see: abusing) the same characters for 17 years.
Case in point: the ask I’m attempting to answer regarding Andrew & Mama Bee**. Some 600 words later I still haven’t finished rambling and I don’t even know if I addressed the question the way I was supposed to.
But let me trip over that again – seventeen years. Seventeen years of giving up & trying to walk away, then crawling back because despite how ridiculous the whole thing is I just didn’t want to let it go. For the longest time I knew if I could get just one stranger to read it and believe in it with me it would all be worth it. That was all I wanted, all I needed, please somebody believe in Neil
And now here we are, and here you are, and I wish I had words for how amazing you all are. You are the loveliest people I could ever hope to meet. Thank you feels horribly insufficient, but Thank you.
** below the cut because vague spoiler in that train of thought