hi! i go by Gino and Carmine so you can choose the one you like most haha
(like i started with Gino & used it for 2 years but then started using the masculine version of my deadname – Carmine – as a first name because i missed the meaning and sonorities of that name. Most of my friends still call me Gino tho, and its gonna be my middle name!)
as for my pronouns, i mostly use they/them in english and a mix or il and elle in french (because i find it easier than saying iel lmao)
it took me 3 times reading this post to realized that (wild) meant living in the wild and wasn’t just a casual remark on the longevity of these organisms
Maximum longevity: 15,000 years (shit dude)
you know, i always rolled my eyes at media that go like “follow your dreams! believe in yourself! you can achieve anything you set your mind to!” because… as a crazy traumatized dyke, this really didnt apply to me, or what i thought was “the real world”… but in the hindsight?? my abusive mother did literally all she could think of to deter me from writing and studying literature, from hardcore manipulation to physical abuse & outright refusal to let me do what i love – throwing my books out of the window into the muddy garden, forcing me to be held back a year in highschool even tho i had the best grades of the whole school because she didnt want me to go into the literary section, forcefully going through my writings (and telling me it was shitty), forbidding me to see my writer friend & be involved in writing seminars, etc. –
she persuaded me i had no literary talent whatsoever, be it in creative writing or in text analysis, and all…
but i persisted and now im a literature major and im going to write for the Comédie-Française lmao
A butch in men’s clothes isn’t a “stereotype” it’s survival and relief and agency and if you think it’s regressive, that just says more about your negative view of gender nonconformity than it does about butch being a restrictive and controlling identity
white person: *eats chicken tikka masala once* i just…. i feel so connected… to indian culture …. I’m learning to speak islam…. check out my third eye….. chakra
Every time I see this. Every damn time. I’m immediately sucked back into my fuckin. Fuckin English lit class with Mr. Fuckass McShit. Mr. “Hit the gong to begin class”, “Namaste, Children”, “I wanna go backpacking in India to find my spiritual awakening and also my left burkinstock that I lost during a cedar sauna drum circle” ass bastard.
“Do you want to share your poetry with the class to get in touch with your emotions” ass fucker. Mr. “Here’s a photograph of a tribal shaman, describe him using nature words” asshole. Pretentious-ass, condescending motherfucker.
“Do you want to tell us about your saddest memory?”
“I dunno, sir. Are you giving me an option?”
“No.”
“Then why are you asking”
Every goddamn day. Fuck. “You seem tense.” Oh, I seem tense? I seem tense. Well fuck, Professor Pillsbury, maybe I ‘seem tense’ because I walk into a room on five hours of sleep to the sound of a goddamn brass gong drilling through my brain and your seven-foot-nine, socks-and-sandals-wearing, patchouli-smelling ass immediately gravitates in my direction with some shit like “a tree……… Is a Poem” and I gotta sit here and politely tell you that No I’m Not Comfortable Telling The Class About A Time I Was Emotionally Vulnerable With A Loved One using words that sound like the way the color yellow smells. Maybe I don’t wanna sit in a circle and hold hands with Brittney from Computer Sciences to “align our auras” or some shit. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.
I swear to God, if I wanted to sing ‘kumbaya’ with a smelly old guy with gross facial hair who writes bad porn on the side, I’d go out to the parking lot and share a Hookah with Crazy Dan, the disgraced electrician.
What, I don’t wanna do an interpretive dance to represent the spiritual experience of eating Quinoa in a room full of ambivalent preteens and suddenly I’m the ‘troubled youth’ you need to Robin Williams “O Captain My Captain” your way into having a Paternal Bonding Moment powerful enough to Expand My Impressionable Young Mind and Turn My Life Around, you goddamn saint, you? Jesus Fucking Christ. You insufferable jackass. You’re not “Enlightened”, you rolled out of bed and ate half a pot brownie, wrote a sad song about a leaf, and strolled into class to ramble about your Spirit Animal for six hours straight before calling it a day. Holy Jesus goddamned Christ. Fucking Balls, sir. Holy Fucking Balls
Okay but I wanna know what Crazy Dan did to become a disgraced electrician
What a goddamn ride.
no seriously. the way the horror franchise portrays these places keeps people from getting help
*ptsd is the exception tbh
when in doubt: find someone w/ that illness (who is chill w/ being asked) and ASK THEM
Some Stock Photo Sign Reminders To The RPC From Your Friendly Neighborhood Psychotic Because As Much As I Love Halloween I Am Actively Scared Of This Shit!!
happy goddamn halloween (some of these have captions)
i thought i was done with dysphoria but apparently not lmao
i got misgendered all day by classmates (who also said psychophobic things) & im on my way to work with children and families…. so its not like i can walk to them and tell them i go by a masculine name & pronouns bc im a nonbinary dyke lmao
like i started thinking i was really just a cis woman estranged from her own gender but i dont think cis women have dysphoria and change their names for male ones and hate being called “she” or “girl”, yknow
les gens!!! Je vais bosser avec la Comédie-Française!!!!! genre wow!! C’est un genre d’atelier d’écriture/lecture pour les étudiant.e.s et les textes sont lus par les comédien.ne.s à la fin de l’année je!!!
