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Optimism - Blog Posts
This, is perfect idea of the future! A world that a cross between Solarpunk & Cyberprep. Where rual america is thriving, plants are as common as people, the farm land is diverse in GMO crops, & the the land shelters local wildlife. I know, it's a bit of a stretch. But, when it comes to the future of Humankind, I'm a major optmist!
I fact this is what my home town dimension I am from!
An Essay on Nihilism and Ennui
Maybe the world is doomed. Maybe you can’t do anything about it. Maybe you were born on a train that had run of our track, long after we shot the engineers and burned the plans to lay track anew. The conductors barricaded the engine room where they hold hostage generations of coal miners who are forced to keep full steam ahead lest they be shoved into the incinerators themselves.
Maybe we can’t change any of that. I’d like to hope we can. Unfortunately hope isn’t the thing that drags your ass out of the cave you’ve collapsed into constructed of pizza boxes and soiled sheets. Drive is. Action is. Curiosity is.
Suppose we’re stuck on this train. It will crash. We will all die in a horrible fiery explosion, or succumb to the fumes first. What are you going to do in the meantime?
Here’s the thing: Life sucks and we’re all going to die. We don’t know when, we don’t know how. It feels impossible to plan for a future we have little data to prove will exist. What we do have is the interim. We can sit around and doom-scroll on our phones, or we can live life while we have it.
Plant a garden out of old coffee cans. Invite your friends over to fingerpaint on cardboard. Kiss the people you think about when you lay in bed at night. Chase an unrealistic dream, not because you believe it is possible, but because you can’t live with yourself if you never try.
That’s what you’re doing when you ingest endless content. You are simultaneously looking for the thing that will complete you, and desperately running from the voice inside that asks “what if there’s more?”
Stop. Running. Turn around. Look at the voice headlong. Dare to ask it back: “What more do I want there to be?”
Then go find it.
Perfect days do not exist. Perfect moments do not exist, but this one is damn close. Or, well, as close as I can get with my massive amounts of cynicism and jaded world view. But, it remains; the sky is a gentle blue, tinged with yellow from the Western sun. The air is warm but not hot. The lake looks as if it was made from silk, gently rippling under the faintest of breezes. There are ducks and people in the park, all admiring the day under the shade of trees and screaming of cicadas. I have a book in my hand and a song in my ears. An ice cream truck is driving past as I write this, and I get to go home to a pair of cats and a cup of tea. The bluffs are on the horizon, accented by the occasional wind turbine and water tower. This moment is good, this day was good. Despite all the bad moments, there are good times. Nothing us perfect, but because of that I will always savour the sweet, maple-sugar taste of a peaceful, pleasant moment.
It's hard sometimes. To live a life with happiness. But it surely reminds you that life itself is never supposed to be happy. It's supposed to be interesting. Full of surprises and shocks. Now answer me, what keeps you waking up every day? It's the will to see another day with hope of getting through it alive. There's no meaning to life, it's us who put meaning in it. What is important is to live each day with the nonchalant optimism that the next will be better, it doesn't matter if it isn't any better. What matters is that you made into another day!
You know what the second I stopped saying “I wish I had a friend who-“ and started being “the friend who-“ my life has gotten 100% more fulfilling
you know what. I will. I will make life beautiful and better one goddamn step at a time.
we are way overdue for a new renaissance.
You must believe that the world is going to change. You must believe that you can change it. Not alone, like some ruggedly individualist caped superhero, but as part of a mass movement, a superorganism, a shared heart, a moment of unity. You must trust that your actions matter, even when they don’t. You must remember that even if going to a protest or opening your doors to the desperate or giving up hyperpconsumption cannot alter the wider societal patterns if only you undertake to do so, that you are just one drop of water in an ocean. And it will change you. That is often the first step. You must believe that one day all the fossils will stay in the ground. You must believe that one day war will be a distant memory. You must believe that one day women will dance in the streets at night unafraid. You must believe that one day land will belong to everyone and queer liberation will be achieved. You must believe it. Even if your great-grandchildren do not live to see it done. Prefiguration is praxis. It’s therapy. It’s all we have.
crazy to think at the beginning of this year i had 0 idea what a productive writing process should look like, and every time i tried to write it felt insanely hard. like writing 200 words in a day felt like a major accomplishment, and i had never even managed to complete One full scene before.
but now!! i actually have some of my writing posted! and i have a bunch of wips that feel like theyre actually possible for me to complete 100%! idk, its just that, even tho i dont have much to show for it rn, im feeling proud of myself and i got the urge to share.
lets gooo 💪!! hopefully ill have more to show you guys soon!!
Other than the name, this just seems like culture shock. The lighting is weird because they bought the bulbs at a store you never knew existed. The smell is some cleaning product, perfume, or spice you've just never smelled before. The music is just foreign music in a genre you've never even heard of, and there are a few thousand languages on this planet, so it's no wonder you've never heard this one. The employees are all stressed because everyone is stressed right now... or maybe they have different traditions around hospitality? Regardless, all this is pointing to their food being amazing (and even if it isn't, you have a great story).
A restaurant named You're Not Supposed To Be Here, where the whole point is that the vibes are unnerving. The lighting is weird, the whole place has a faint scent that's not a bad smell, but it's certainly not food smell and you can't quite identify what the hell it is. The music is weirdly janky and you can't quite tell what's wrong with it, the vocals aren't exactly garbled but sung in a language you swear you've never heard anywhere and couldn't name if you tried. Only hiring staff who have anxiety and they're 100% permitted to show how much your presence here stresses them out.
Tonight House Republicans voted 217 to 215 for a budget that'll take $1 TRILLION dollars from Medicaid, attack food benefits for kids, hurt seniors and vets.
but I don't want to talk about that, I want to talk about these two Democratic members of Congress you've never ever heard of.
Democrats, Congressman Kevin Mullin of California and Congresswoman Brittany Pettersen of Colorado.
Congressman Mullin had knee surgery that didn't go well, two surgeries, a life threatening blood clot and a week long stay in the hospital, and the moment he was discharged from the hospital he got on a five hour flight to DC to vote against the Republicans evil budget, using a walker to get to the floor of the House
Congresswoman Pettersen gave birth to her son Sam, in the picture, exactly one month ago on January 25th. They flew from Colorado to DC after Republicans refused to allow her to vote by proxy after having a baby. Congresswoman Pettersen took Sam onto the floor of the House to vote to protect the Health care of 400,000 Colorado kids.
why talk about this? because so much of the conversion is about telling people there's no one good, no one worthy, no one fighting. I promise you there are people undergoing personal hardship to do the right thing.
You Will Be Okay. You Have No Choice.
“An optimist is...”
“An optimist is merely an ex-pessimist with his pockets full of money, his digestion in good condition and his wife in the country.”
Helen Rowland
«Оптимист — это вчерашний пессимист — сегодня с карманами, полными денег, не беспокоящим желудком и женой в деревне».
Хелен Роуленд
© Перевод
Dear Creator,
Thank you for waking me up this morning and allowing me to see another beautiful day. I ask that you guide me with your firm hand, and protect me with your armor. I ask that you fill me with your lyght and drive out the darkness within me. Allow me to lead the way for those who seek truth. I ask that you give me the experience to gain understanding. Allow me the ability to create the life I desire. Shower me with your love... Wash away my sins, my pains, my doubts, my insecurities and impurities.Fill me with your wisdom.
I will exercise my faith, hold my head high and maintain my focus. I will keep my heart open to receive all that you pour into me. I will exercise discipline to assure that I am well balanced.
Life is abundant. LOVE is the LAW. Lyght travelz! [A-M-N]!
Spread optimism
I've had an epiphany, maybe people mostly tend to remember and recount the negative traits of a person that they lost or moved on from not as an act of malice but rather self-preservation. Maybe remembering and acknowledging that someone was "really not so great" or "not as good as I thought" dampens the pain that would have increased manifold if we accepted that we lost someone uniquely dear to us and had good traits that outweighed the bad.
Probably I am being too optimistic, but you never know how most hearts cope in this transient world. ❣️🖤
The sun is setting on my life, but before the day is done, I’ll change my future escape at last
this makes me feel better
Anon besties—especially those of you sending me Twitter links to the HS-TR London stroll today and saying you’re devastated—it is ok. Promise.
Should I be more direct?
Blondie DID NOT WANT HIM THERE last night. At all. In fact, him being photographed and seen elsewhere is the *best case scenario* for her right now.
I am not sure H has ever said no to her requests - shall we listen to Fool’s Gold again, or Satellite? If she was open to his presence, he would have attended. Even as a friend; TR’s actual opening night (non press) is soon. He could have been at that instead.
The MH thing was a disaster for Taylor. I feel like she needed a restraining order to get out of that situation, and only days ago. You think she wants to introduce ANOTHER man into the dialogue now?
Let’s celebrate her career dominance! Her incredible music! Her overall awesomeness. No men need to be centred in this celebration. All Blondie!
Public Haylor is not an option open to Harry right now. And he is a hot, single guy whose most recent public relationship was tabloid fodder and caused a family break-up and feuding on the set of a movie. This is waaaaaay better for him.
I am certain that Haylor will be discussed as we get closer and closer to Oct. 27th. We know that they are supportive friends. Let’s wait and see.
Lights in the sky, but not the aurora... Maybe next time...
Stop living life as if you are on a timeline.
There is not set deadline for success and achievements.
It is okay to wander and take the scenic route.
Life is not a straight line.
i cry a lot, but i am so productive
A little vent I did with a bit of a happy ending (don't worry btw it's just nice to write about it)
I look into the mirror, and a tight knot is tied into my stomach. A bubbling starts in the depths of my gut and crawls up my body into my chest. It was very similar to how I felt when I got car sick on summer road trips as the feeling of throwing up grew inside me. The big difference is that it’s much more concentrated and there's a lower likelihood of throwing up. Much lower but not none. There was the obvious fact I’m quite fat or “chubby” if you didn’t want to be too blunt about it. Maybe I could deal with that if it was distributed more femininely, but I guess it makes sense why it wasn’t. My stomach bulged out, and the fat pushed out the side, messing up my back as well. There’s a unique torture in understanding you’re trans but not being able to do something about it. You have a need you can not fill. A hunger while the apple’s branch pulls upward every time you reach for it. Having no mouth and an intense need to scream. My family might be accepting, but there’s definitely the chance they’re not, especially with some things I’ve heard dad listen to. Even if I came out today and they embraced me as Kathrine fully, the next problem is the problem of money. The idea of insurance covering HRT is almost laughable, and even with how it would improve my well-being, it would be selfish to ask for it while we have more pressing payments and medical problems. Just two more years, I suppose. Two more years of hating the name everyone but my friends call me. Two more years of cuddling in my bed pretending to be a pretty girl to soften the blow of reality. Two more years of feeling like a creep when I imagine myself as that girl. Two more years of making social media accounts under Kat to feel any amount of euphoria. Two more years of telling my friends to call me that horrible name around my parents. Two more years of hiding my google searches and YouTube recommendations from my family. Two more years of hating every atom of me when my grandma calls me a nice young man or a fun boy. Two more years of writing stupid words in a google doc to vent. Two more years sound like a long time when you put it like that, but I've been doing this for a while, and a lot changes when you take a different perspective. Two more years till I can tell everyone to call me Kat. Two more years till I can take the magic blue pill to feel more like me. Two more years with great friends that help me. Two more years to save up money to not only be able to buy HRT but hopefully much more. Two more years of getting better at writing. Only two more years till I can be me.