Hello, dear reader! In lieu of writing something that requires analysis, emotional wherewithal, and sources, I made a thing!
My current job involves screening and editing academic articles, one of which was titled, “Squiddle: The Octopus with a Unicorn Horn.” It’s about a totally academic topic, but the title stuck in my brain to the point that I just had to draw Squiddle, as you see below.
Mr Squish has been working on his art skills the past couple of years, and I’ve watched videos with him and his process. So I actually did some experimental sketches before putting Squiddle together. I stole his alcohol-based markers, which allow for better blending, shading, and a smoother finished product. As you can see, I’m still getting the hang of it as it was my first try with them, but I’m pretty pleased with how the water turned out.
Any who, there ya go. Something not depressing! Hopefully Squiddle will gently squeeze your heart so you feel happy. Squiddle does Squiddle’s best.
At a time meant to commemorate seventeen people killed at school, and a moment meant to be about holding adults responsible for inaction that caused the death of children, this young woman goes on a rant about how mass shooters are caused by bullying, specifically, the kids that are protesting right then. What this is, is the unsoftened side of those who support Walk Up, Not Out. Continue reading I’ve “Walked Up” to your idea, and found that it was bullshit
Hello dear reader, I’m not sure if you noticed, but the world has kind of exploded with sexual harassment/sexual abuse news. I’ve been just kind of rolling with it to the best of my ability. It is ultimately a good thing that this is all coming out. But I’d really like to address some things I’ve been hearing… address them with rage.
OMG! We’re all going to be prudes and NEVER have fun AGAIN.
Ok, first of all, what the fuck do you do for fun? How the hell does “remembering that other people don’t exist for you to torture them” infringe on your fun times? Maybe you’re an asshole who doesn’t deserve to have your “fun.” Ever thought of that? Continue reading Buckle Up, Here Comes a Rant
Wow, it really sucks that Trump is the POTUS, right? He is really terrible on so many levels and different ways. Worse still is that Mike Fucking Pence is next in line, and the two are supported by morally destitute members of Congress like Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan. It is really, truly awful knowing that these are the people in power: the kind of guys who would probably strangle me to death with their bare hands if they thought they’d get a dollar for it or get to pass a bill to hurt LGBTQ* folk.
Anyway, the reason why I’m writing this post isn’t just to vent my spleen and remind everyone of the heavy blanket of dread that they carry around. (Everyone who reads this blog anyway.) I’m hoping, in however small a way, to reset the low, low bar that Trump regularly slides under. We’ve become accustomed to how horrible he is at everything and his supreme selfishness. When you see headlines that read, “Trump Did [X],” “Trump Says, ‘[Y],’ But Scientists Disagree,” “Trump Surprises Staff by Declaring [Z],” it all runs together, and when he’s marginally less bad, people are starting to call it “presidential behavior.”
So instead, I’d like you to think of Trump’s behavior through the lens of people who write to advice columnists. (It’s a stretch, I know, because Trump hates asking for advice.) The people who write advice columnists are usually looking for someone to say that a) they’re right or b) they can get a divorce; the advice usually is to a) stop what you’re doing, b) stop hanging out with awful people, and/or c) have a real conversation with someone like an adult. Though sometimes, the advice columnist will publish something and the advice is, “You’re a terrible person, and I hope your family, friends, co-workers, and strangers are safe from you.” That’s the kind of letter writer Trump would be. Continue reading What Trump’s Letters to an Advice Columnist Would Look Like
Okay folks, let’s get some stuff out of the way first thing. I know responsible gun owners and gun enthusiasts. I know people who hunt and go to gun ranges and gun shows and they’re all responsible kind people who don’t relish the idea of blowing someone away. I assume you know these type of people too. I am not here to say that these people are a menace. I am here to say that as a country, not just gun owners, we’ve got a culture problem.
Now, let’s talk about what the problem isn’t, not directly.
Not Enough People with Guns.
This is just… It’s a solution that at the very least lacks nuance. It’s like people saying, “Fight fire with fire!” without understanding things like fire breaks or controlled burns… So they light your car on fire when they see flames on your house. Continue reading Our Culture of Mass Shootings
I missed my blog’s second birthday (blogday?), and I haven’t been feeding it regularly at all. Poor thing! Auntie Mommy strikes again.
Part of this is because I like to have something nice and polished, thoughtful, or at least funny if I’m going to release words into the primal soup of the Internet. But then again, who do I actually need, Mr. Right Post or Mr. Post Right Now?
Having taken heed of the perennial nosy, pushy family member who worries about whether or not you’re getting laid, I’m lowering my standards and not being so damn picky.
So. I wrote a novel, and now I’m looking for an agent to represent me. This is a long process that I’ve just begun, and all my querying has been unsolicited, which means I come out of nowhere to these people and usually end up in their enormous slush piles. I’ve read that I shouldn’t give up until after about 100 query letters. This is what that feels like.
(Click to embiggen!)
Please don’t ask me what the novel is about. I’ll let you know when, well, probably after a couple drinks. But when you try out for a musical, I’m not all, “Hey buddy, sing me your audition song!” That’s mortifying, and a post for a different day.
Have you guys seen those photos about race swapping everyday interactions? A lot of people have been excited about them and Oprah gave them the stamp of approval for her magazine. My initial reaction was like, “Oh, I get it.” Followed by anger.
First, allow me to first cushion the hell out of what I’m going to say. There is space for photos like these, and that they may have made a positive impact in a discussion about racism in America is great. I’m no Oprah; I don’t have that magic of being a significant social influencer for millions of people. These photos very well may be what the (fake, TV) doctor ordered.
There are things these photos do well. They portray relatively simple scenes with seemingly low-stakes in everyday situations for women and girls. I like that aspect. There should be more discussion about race relations between women and the effects of power dynamics in everyday life. That’s important stuff.
Poor, neglected blog! I was writing so much other stuff that I didn’t take time to write for you. But I did pay real money so you can exist on the Internet for at least two more years, so there’s that. [/end Aunty Mommy “apology”]
So, dear reader, you may be thinking, “What hard-hitting, incisive, thoughtful post are we going to get now? Surely, there’s so much going on in the world that you can’t not talk about it.”
Yeah, no. Look, I know I should probably get into it, but when’s the last time you’ve tried analyzing shitty things happening instead of just acknowledging them? It’s not that I don’t care; it’s that it takes a lot out of me. I was an emotional husk after doing a piece about the Global Gag Rule. I made Mr. Squish watch The Last Unicorn with me, and I cried at parts that weren’t even sad. I don’t feel like revisiting that in my free time.
But what I do have energy for is complaining about pop culture!
I’ve been perusing The Hairpin, and Kelly Conaboy’s scented candle reviews are truly excellent. I have written my own scented candle nonsense, but it got me thinking about my actual candle-related expectations. You’d think having only ever bought maybe five candles ever, and at least two because I thought Mr. Squish would like them, that I wouldn’t have strong feelings about this.