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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
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lnthefade

I’ve been using tumblr on and off since 2009. In the early days, we had a vibrant community here. Writers, musicians, artists, people who shared their daily lives with us - we all formed a cohesive group and became friends both on and off the platform. We met up occasionally, we held talents shows on the site, we cheered births and mourned deaths together. We were like a family, we were always there for each other. It was an incredible community and I’m so thankful to have been a part of it. 

Like all good things, that community came to a slow, lingering end. Sure, most of us remained friends with each other, but tumblr as we knew it was changing. Many people left. They went to twitter or they left social media entirely. Some of us stayed, on and off, here and there, sometimes posting daily, sometimes going weeks without opening up the site. I hated to see us lose what we had, but, we did.

I came back, stubbornly, trying to recapture the feel of reading about your lives every day, listening to the music you post, enjoying the art. But let’s face it, it hasn’t been the same. And now tumblr is instituting this new rule, which I think i short sighted and wrong headed. I don’t look at porn on tumblr. I don’t post nudes. But I can’t get behind what they’re doing. All this is going to do is make people leave. In droves. I think a lot of people were just waiting for that last straw and this is it. It’s been hanging on by a thread and that thread is now unraveling.

I’ll never forget what we had here. It was awesome and the friendships I made and the time I spent here added value to my life.

We were great together, guys. We had some fun times. Never forget them. 

tumblr is dead. long live tumblr.

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putting the pen down

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Some dreams die hard. Some just flit away, untethered balloons drifting into the clouds. I’m glad my dream didn’t just crash and burn, it really was a slow dance up until this point, something I’ve tangled with for about a year now, and I’m ready to let it go.

I’ve wanted to be a writer since I could first form words into sentences and sentences into paragraphs. I wrote hundreds of stories when I was young, first by hand, filling up legal pads with my tales, then by typewriter, pecking away until stories were finished to my liking. There were a lot of garbage pails filled with crumbled up paper. But there were also a lot of finished stories.

I do consider myself a writer of sorts. I write. I publish my little essays and stories here. I have been published — for pay — in various magazines. I was a paid writer for Forbes for a while. I contributed to some now defunct sites. I completed a novel. But — there’s always a but — I’m not the writer I wanted to be. I wanted to be well read. I wanted my name known. I wanted to have a steady income from writing. The blame for all that not happening certainly lies with me. I’ve been a little gun-shy about sending things out. My anxiety gets the best of me. And when I do send something out and get a rejection, I immediately give up and just throw it up here on medium instead of sending it somewhere else. My heart, my brain can’t take all that rejection. I was, in fact, not cut out to be a writer.

I had dreams. Dreams of a published essay collection. Dreams of a published novel. Dreams of turning my 100 word stories into a book. Dreams of steady writing for publications. Slowly I realized those dreams were not going to happen, partly due to my lack of diligence, partly due to the fact that I’m not as good as the writers out there making a living. I’m an imposter, a wannabe, a poser. These are the things I tell myself at 3am while I contemplate my lack of a writing career.

I am tired. Tired of chasing the dream. Tired of pretending that I am better than what I am. Tired of having 20 people read something I put my heart into. Tired of thinking that, at age 56, I can get off the ground running. I’m mentally drained, my depression weights on me, my anxiety is relentless. I just can’t do it.

And so I’ll call it quits. I’ll still write here occasionally when the mood strikes, but I’m no longer going to dream that little dream of a writing career, of selling anything. I will still be a writer, but I will never be a Writer. And that’s ok. Giving up on a dream is almost freeing. I’m letting go of all that stress and anxiety that comes with not living out your goals for yourself. I’m freeing myself from the anxiety. I’m watching that balloon sail into the clouds and I’m just exhaling while it sails away. No more pretending. No more unrealistic expectations. No more.

I want to thank anyone who ever read what I wrote, everyone who encouraged me to power forward even when I felt like I was standing still, everyone who ever said a kind word about my writing. It’s been great writing with you in mind, but I’ve reached the point in my “career” where I’m just going to write for myself, for the sake of writing, and not for any other reason. I won’t be looking to sell anything, I won’t be writing failed pitches anymore, I won’t write with certain publications in mind. I’ll just clack away at the keyboard at 4am in a blogging sort of fashion because while a Writer is something I’m not, writing is something I need to do. It will just be with a different frame of mind, from a different place. All the pieces I wrote with intent to pitch will take on a different form. My novel? I don’t know what will happen with that. I might self publish it just for friends and relatives to read.

It may sound like I’m giving up and, well, I am. I just feel like I’m too long into this life to struggle at something that is obviously going nowhere. I’m old. I’m closer to 60 than I am to 50 now and that scares me, I feel like I’ve spent too much of my life struggling to accomplish something that’s not going to happen. Giving up is the best thing I can do for my mental health.

The dream is over. It feels ok to let it go.

******

You can read my 100 Word Stories — I’m most proud of these — here.
My short fiction is here.
The rest of my essays are all within the pages here.

amadcap

This basically sums up why I quit making music (and most art) a few years ago. For me, the business side of things killed my passion for the creative side of things. I spent 10 years, all my free time and money trying to do something and it didn’t work. I ended up looking at my life, 26 in my parents’ basement, working my 7th year of midnights at 7-Eleven and realizing I needed to move on. So I did. Was it the right choice? Who knows. All I know is when I hear interviews with successful people, they always talk about how they had a great support system when they were starting out. And when I told my friends and family I was thinking of giving up music, the only response I got was “Yea. That Makes sense.”. 
  Now, I’m turning 30 next month. I own a home and a new car that has caught fire (like my last one). I have a job with paid vacation I’m using to go to Europe for the first time. I’m still a lonely sad sack. I just don’t sing and write about it now. Whenever I hear a song of mine on shuffle or look at my guitar or drums, I just think, “What a waste of time.”.

fuckshitasscunt
thewieneryears-deactivated20130

Moss Graffiti: A How To Guide

missythemermaid

are you fucking for real

cirquereveur

Imagine being the criminal who returns weekly to make sure his fucking plant art is doing alright

fandombatched

Later

royal-creep

I found it! I fucking found it! In my fucking dash! Nothing can stop me now! *EVIL GIGGLES*

male-witch

OMG SAME RIGHT I SAW IT A YEAR AGO AND WAS UPSET I COULDNT FIND IT AGAIN

antifainternational
antifainternational:
“June 23 - Occupy ICE Detroit  Occupy ICE Detroit: 7 p.m. this Saturday, June 23rd. ICE field office, 333 Mt. Elliot, Detroit.
Our protests ended the policy of stealing children from their parents. Now let’s shut the whole thing...
antifainternational

June 23 - Occupy ICE Detroit

Occupy ICE Detroit: 7 p.m. this Saturday, June 23rd. ICE field office, 333 Mt. Elliot, Detroit.

Our protests ended the policy of stealing children from their parents. Now let’s shut the whole thing down. We have much more to do.

Protesters with #OccupyICE have shut down the Portland ICE facility. They’ve been camping out and refusing to allow cars in and out of the facility since Monday. ICE has closed the facility. All ICE appointments there are cancelled.

Occupy ICE.
Shut down the Detroit field office.
Shut down all concentration camps.
Abolish ICE and Customs and Border Patrol.

Bring your camping supplies. Plan to stay a while.

fuckshitasscunt
infamous-legacy:
“ kennedying:
“ bemusedlybespectacled:
“ flockof:
“ stayingwoke:
“ intergalacticsociety:
“But they aren’t documented so they wouldn’t be pa…..nvm
”
This is a huge misconception for regular Americans. When the government uses the...
intergalacticsociety

But they aren’t documented so they wouldn’t be pa…..nvm

stayingwoke

This is a huge misconception for regular Americans. When the government uses the phrase “undocumented” they’re using it incorrectly because if they were truly undocumented then they would’ve be in system. However these immigrants are in the system and they pay taxes, file tax returns and get no benefits that citizens and legal residents get. They also get to see ICE showing up at their doors because the government has their addresses. Fun fact. “Undocumented” workers pays $12 billion dollars every year in taxes. https://www.google.com/amp/www.forbes.com/sites/niallmccarthy/2016/10/06/how-much-tax-do-americas-undocumented-immigrants-actually-pay-infographic/amp/

flockof

Reblogging for info.

bemusedlybespectacled

“Undocumented” just means “without papers,” i.e. a social security card, valid visa, etc. They’re still on databases and whatnot, they just don’t have the documentation that allows them to reap the benefits.

kennedying

so if it didn’t click- the government is aware of their presence and gladly taking their money under the table while simultaneously promoting the idea that undocumented people are a threat and encouraging hatred and distrust of them
it’s super messed up, literally the scheme of an evil villain, and it’s really happening

infamous-legacy

🗣 undocumented immigrants in Los Angeles contribute more to the GDP than the state of Montana and like 5 other states

Source: stayingwoke
wilwheaton
quilavastudy

I get really confused when americans, when talking about universal health care are like ‘yeh but it’s not free sweaty :) :) you have to pay it through taxes :) so gotcha!!’

and I’m like ….???? That’s the whole point??? Everyone pays their fair share so that no one has to be turned away because they don’t have insurance??? And no one has to set up a Fundraiser page just so that they DONT DIE???? So people don’t put off going to the doctor because they’re scared of going bankrupt?? Because healthcare is a RIGHT and should be free at the point of access?!?

peccatopotpourri

“So no one has to be turned away” she says hahaha go to a universal health care country and get a necessary operation in less than a few years and come back and talk shit.

Look at the cure rates compared to mortality rates in universal health care countries and compare them to ours, then talk shit.

Tear your ACL in a universal health care country and see what the people say if you should go to their hospitals or go to an American hospital, then talk shit.

fluffmugger

2010. I’d been feeling a bit ill. Work was going nuts, so I figured it was stress.  Pretty good call considering a week later work fired their entire IT department (of which I was part).    

But then I got sicker.  And it turned out I had cancer.

Burkitt’s lymphoma, stage 4a. It had spread into my brain and spinal column. 90% cure rate, but I needed nine months of chemo - and not the outpatient chemo, nope, talking multiple week stays per round of the magrath protocol.  Drugs were about 10k an IV bag.  I was unemployed.  And there were complications.

Thankfully I live in a country with universal healthcare.   And it didn’t cost me a goddamn cent to save my life.  I’m now officially past the five year mark to move me from “remission” to “Cured”.

I’ve lived in a universal healthcare country my entire life. And I’ve seen the US system in action.  Your system is fucked. Straight up fucked. You’ve got fucking Dickensian shit going on there, people dying on streets from preventable causes or ending up broke for breaking a hip.   Your health insurance companies have you by the balls and people like you are begging them to squeeze harder.  What the actual fuck is wrong with you? 

“But but but TAXESSSSSSSSS”

yeah no shit. That story above? Happened when I was 32.  I’d spent 14 years of my life paying those fucking taxes that funded the system that saved my life.    And guess what?   Now I’m cured, I’m…Back..at work..And have been for several years…earning waaaay more money and paying back into the system.

This shit doesn’t exist in a vacuum, dickhead.  You’re not feeding some imaginary pack of leeches, you’re paying forward on your own damned healthcare so you don’t have to argue with an insurance company while trying to heal. 

bpd-disaster

i also don’t get why americans can’t wrap their heads around the fact that universal healthcare is actually cheaper

like yeah your taxes might go up (hell, take a chunk out of the military budget, they might not even change) but you won’t have to pay ridiculous health insurance premiums. it’s a net saving, dumbasses. 

spaffy-jimble

Also I care about people that aren’t me

swordlesbianvraska

Also I care about people that aren’t me

wilwheaton

Also I care about people that aren’t me

Also I care about people that aren’t me

Also I care about people that aren’t me

Also I care about people that aren’t me

Also I care about people that aren’t me

Source: quilavastudy
demonofnoontide
deathtrajectory

“I wouldn’t call it depression, rather a matter of conscience. One has to notice that we are immersed in a terrible and catastrophic age that is affecting many people. Each day hundreds of nameless people die, while I am singing and you are listening to music. It’s a constant apocalypse, and in some people, that leaves its mark.”

— Leonard Cohen • October 1974