Marching in solidarity. #noncompliant #nc #bitchplanet #womensmarch #womensmarchportland
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Saturday, January 21, 2017
#noncompliant women filling the max. #bitchplanet #nc
#noncompliant women filling the max. #bitchplanet #nc
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Tuesday, January 17, 2017
robotmango: madamethursday: tariqk: eclecticmuses: roane72: alwayshometomarvel: roane72: ester...
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.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
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.
Yus! This!!
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Monday, January 16, 2017
EVERYONE WHO REBLOGS THIS WILL GET A MONSTER CREATED BASED ON THEIR BLOG
And I am serious here
There are no rules, just reblog and you’re in!hey, a monster Lawn Chair would be something I’d never thought I’d see before..
might as well try… these never work for me though
Why not.
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Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Photo taken near midnight! No work tomorrow. Woot!! #nofilter...
Photo taken near midnight! No work tomorrow. Woot!! #nofilter #pdxsnow #ilovesnowdays
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Monday, January 9, 2017
My cool friend @veronicarosser looked awesome today and I felt...
My cool friend @veronicarosser looked awesome today and I felt the need to draw her.
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Thursday, January 5, 2017
Okay I need to ask. Why do YOU write?
I grew up surrounded by words, quite literally. By the time I was six months old my parents had taped words to every surface in the house, so the walls said “wall” the window said “window” and so on so forth. I still don’t know how they managed to get the cat involved but some things are meant to be wondered at.
But for the next six years the world was covered in words, as first I learned to read, and then my brother. I dare say if you move some furniture in my parents house to this day you will find a faded piece of paper that says “shelf” or “bookcase” on it. It was a sad day when they were taken down, they were like old friends. But by then the magic had already worked. I was able to look at the world and see words, whether they were printed there or not.
I was four when I sat down to consciously write my first story. I remember it vividly because I had my bright yellow Cadburys Caramel mug, that had the purple flowing font on the side with the bunny rabbit lady on it. It was filled with “baby tea”— mostly hot milk with a splash of tea from the pot to give it color— and I was holding it in both hands, sitting at the little “art” table dad had built for me in the corner so I had a place to sit and scribble that wasn’t the walls. Contemplating my next masterpiece I looked around the room for inspiration. Would it be an exploration of color through pinky finger painting only? Or would it be the greatest macaroni interpenetration of a dog we’d ever seen? Sadly we’ll never know how this might have worked out, as at that very moment, mum came in holding a crystal mobile and hung it up on the window sill. This in turn had the effect of creating a living, dancing rainbow in the living room, and something in my brain short fused.
That was the day I learned the word “iridescent”. It was like learning the language of angels.
After that I was always scribbling something. My school books were a mess of words, crammed into margins and on back pages. I was always in trouble for letting my mind “wander into whimsy.” Once I got a report card that said “fantastical leanings towards flights of fancy.” It was meant as criticism, but dad still has it framed in the office.
Then there came the time a few years later when I was reading the Hobbit with dad, and I turned to him quite seriously and asked “where are all the girl hobbits?” and dad hemmed and hawed before eventually telling me “they’re in another book, darling…having their own adventure…” and I accepted this and settled back down to let him finish the chapter. He probably thought I forgot about it until that weekend I marched up to the Librarian and asked for “the girl hobbit book please”, which was met with much confusion and my dad rushing over to tell me they probably wouldn’t have it yet because it was very rare. A few weeks later, dad handed me something. It was sheaves of paper bound together by string. It was, he told me, a very exclusive copy of the girl hobbit book.
I still have it somewhere, back home. Probably on a shelf somewhere that still says “shelf”.
And sweet, naive thing that I was, I believed him. It wasn’t until later on and someone else popped my bubble, that I realized dad, not Tolkien, had written it. And oh I was furious, furious because the story had been so good and because dad had lied about not writing it himself. But that small bubbling anger was nothing compared to the heat inside my brain when my dad confessed he’d tried without much success to find books I might like with girls in them. All the heroes were boys, you see. It made me quite tearful actually, that no one had ever thought that someone like me could go off on an adventure and save the world, when I knew it to be a blatant lie. Old Mrs McDougall across the street had been a land girl and saved a man shot down from his spitfire. Mrs Mitchell had been the emergency coordinator and saved people from burning buildings when the Nazis bombed the shipyards, and her skin was all bubbled and tightly pulled across the left side of her face because of it and her hands didn’t quite work because she’d gripped burning metal to try and free the men inside. Those, were heroes. But we never learned about them at school. We only learned about kings and tyrants and the kind of heavily filtered history that lead you to believe that women were in there somewhere, but only in the same sense that a wall has paint on it.
And now my books, my lovely wonderful books, where you could travel through space and time or climb up volcanoes to throw rings inside and save the world…those wonderful colorful worlds that spoke the language of angels, were just the same.
I was ready to cry and be defeated about it until dad, raising his eyebrows at me and offering me a notebook, said, “well, maybe someone ought to write one.”
And you likely know the rest by now. But in short I write because there are stories to be told. I write because it’s the closest I’ll ever be to how the word iridescent feels. I look at the world and I see words, dancing like rainbows, singing like angels.
There’s words everywhere. I’m just scribbling them down.
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Wednesday, January 4, 2017
#ImprovementHell day 4: 20 drawings of some part I’m bad...
#ImprovementHell day 4: 20 drawings of some part I’m bad at. Really, did anyone draw things other than hands and feet? Some were supposed to be muscle studies but I think I’m catching a cold and the meds are kicking in and I’m getting a bit vague. So have some hands! Really I must draw more hands.
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Tuesday, January 3, 2017
#improvementhell day 3… figure in an action pose! I...
#improvementhell day 3… figure in an action pose! I should probably have done some warmup gestures first. But here we are.
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Patreon..! 💚
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#drawing #illustration #sketch #procreate #ipadpro #action #espnbodyissue #basketball #artistsoninstagram #artistsofinstagram #artistsontumblr
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#improvementhell day 3… figure in an action pose. I feel...
#improvementhell day 3… figure in an action pose. I feel like I’ve been better at this, and seeing them together I can totally see things I should have seen while drawing. Also I should probably have done some warmup gestures first. But here we are.
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#drawing #illustration #sketch #procreate #ipadpro #action #espnbodyissue #basketball #artistsoninstagram #artistsofinstagram #artistsontumblr
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Monday, January 2, 2017
#improvementhell day 2: draw something from reference. I google...
#improvementhell day 2: draw something from reference. I google searched freckles and found this little guy.
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Patreon! 💚
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#ipadpro #procreate #sketch #drawing #illustration #30daychallenge
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#improvementhell day 2: draw something from reference. I google...
#improvementhell day 2: draw something from reference. I google searched freckles and found this little guy.
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Sunday, January 1, 2017
Day 1 of #improvementhell • #ipadpro #procreate #character...
Day 1 of #improvementhell
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#ipadpro #procreate #character #selfportrait #drawing #illustration #artistsoninstagram #artistsofinstagram #artistsontumblr
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We’ll Make YOUR Resolutions!
Tired of making your own New Year’s resolutions? Yes? Then this year, let That’s Believable do the resolution making thing so you don’t have to!*
Our team of experts and unpaid interns will send you a hand-crafted resolution tailored to your specific needs, or close!
If you would like an official THAT’S BELIEVABLE Resolution of your very own, please send us an ASK or REPLY to this post.
* This sounded much better in our head.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
If you would like a custom, hand-crafted, artisanally made resolution, there’s still time! Simply send us an ASK or REPLY to this post.
Congratulations! You have an official THAT’S BELIEVABLE New Year’s Resolution, suitable for whatever!
RESOLUTION FOR @danie-dreams
The best things in life are not frozen peas, but frozen peas are still pretty good. Let’s not get down on frozen peas so much, they serve a purpose. Let’s instead focus on resolutions, and it’s resolved that you should make a festive yet functional suit of tin foil that can screen out the mind-control rays which are constantly beamed at us by hostile powers. Note that we said “suit,” and not “helmet.” Everyone thinks you need to make a tin-foil helmet, but that’s not true at all.
Happy New Year!
Well. I guess I know what I must do this year!
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