I make stuff because I can. I am creative because I create. I have no delusions of talent, or peculiar worth. I mean, I kind of think creation—itself—is worthwhile.

still, I mostly hate myself most of the time. and, some days, tumblr gets to being the voice inside my head. as a depressive cycle starts to taper off—please, fuck, taper off—nothing can stall the beginning of a manic phase (which is also fucked, but bearable) quite like targeted abuse.

no. I don’t think most of what I make is particularly good.

yes. more thought goes into most of it than what I explain in tumblr posts.

sure. maybe I should make better use of self-deprecating tags about my own patheticness.

but … should I supply complete critical justification with everything I post? I don’t think so. I don’t think most of you guys are stupid enough to need that. I don’t think most of the internet is stupid enough to need that.

I’ve seen it—abuse—happening to other people far more frequently than it happens to me (it’s really not that often). and it’s fucked. I’m sick—particularly—of hipster craft culture—or whatever—and its naive elitism.

‘I’m tons into craft and it’s totally cool. but stuff you make is shit. you can’t do that, or you’re rubbish at it. now I’m going to blog about how I’m tons into craft, and how stuff you make is shit. … because that will fulfil my participation requirement, or whatever.’

I’m more attracted to an idea of craft that is encouraging, than one that’s limiting. I am interested in facilitating people to create, engaging them, showing them that creation is an end, regardless of the objective value of what is created.

I don’t know.

I’m more into surrounding myself with things that I admire than things I don’t. I certainly don’t see the point of lurking blogs I don’t follow to find content I don’t like, so that I can reblog it … simply to be cruel.

probably, I’m weak. I’m absolutely afraid this post will open me up to further shit. whatever. fucked people are fucked and should probably fuck off. if they’re not going to, that’s their problem. this has pretty much fulfilled my participation requirement, or whatever.

I don’t even know, you guys. sometimes I can’t sleep—at all, all night—and stuff like this JUST HAPPENS.

this is my favourite cat friend.

she used to be the absolute scarediest; now, when she hears my shoes, she comes running over to say hi and walk me home.

so my workshop portfolio is a collection of zines. because it doesn’t count as work if I ever ever sleep. wew!

I’m a totally great investment.

hi.

crown for king.

[inspired by this, practice for craft with Nathania]

guess who spent all day in hospital? … I did!

and with my twin (who is also my hero).

thank you, Myers-Briggs test, for completely vindicating all my life choices. 

and I like that I got the best personality.  and that it’s complex.  and that it’s rather like me.  spooky, like when your horror scope totally makes sense.

I’m doing an actual one next week. because doctor doesn’t know what to do with me. then it will be official.

if Mitchell would just shave and wash his hair people would love him and he wouldn’t have to be so angsty.

there is no ‘uni-gender’ third-person pronoun.

I’ve just spent half an hour being confusing while explaining this to my housie.  instead of doing my copyediting assignment.

historically, the masculine third-person pronoun was considered the appropriate generic:

no hipster is complete without his skinny jeans.

clearly, it’s not.  but pronouns are difficult to coin, so:

no hipster is complete without his or her skinny jeans.

this is hardly stylish, so the alternative:

no hipster is complete without their skinny jeans.

if you think their sounds retarded, that’s because it is.  it is plural, but applied to the singular hipster.

so you slyly rephrase:

hipsters are incomplete without their skinny jeans.

which is kind of comfortable (aren’t complete would be awkward).

certainly beats being misleading and sounding like a sexist dick.

“it’s okay, you can do this.  you’re a person who can exist in real life.”

I tell myself this almost every time I leave the house.

Grandma’s House S01 E03 (kind of via: facetsofthesameface, taraei)

I’m getting worse at outfits.

these have so many more spots than my last pair.  I don’t know how to respond.

existential crisis.  like humanism is dead.