Yes, I folded my fitted sheet, but I'm no hero. I'm just someone who watched a YouTube video twice, got frustrated, read a tutorial, gave up, came back an hour later to try again, watched a different YouTube video, watched it again while trying to copy it with my sheet, somehow got it all mixed up, slowly went through the process while narrating exactly what I was doing so I could be sure I didn't make a mistake, and then watched the video one last time and finally understood how it worked.
Hey guys, we’re having a preliminary meeting this Wednesday to strategize and discuss a timeline for action. I’ll be bringing cookies, so use this post to let me know if you’re allergic to anything. Posted at 12:32 on Thursday 20th May, 2023. No comments.
I guess we’re re-scheduling the meeting since nobody turned up the last one. More cookies for me, though! For real, folks, write in your suggestions for a better time for the meeting. We need to get to work on Taking Facebook Back from the corporate overlords! Posted at 20:45 on Wednesday 26th May, 2023. No comments.
Everyone is being real quiet. You guys can see this, right? Posted at 01:14 on Thursday 27th May, 2023. No comments.
Okay, can someone–anyone–please just comment to let me know if this post (or any of the others) are just invisible to everyone, or if you can see them but Facebook’s changing your mood so you’re too lazy to comment? Posted at 03:23 on Thursday 27th May, 2023. No comments.
Okay, I’m shutting this group down. I’ll talk to you all individually about joining the new group, Eating Cookies And Not Discussing Anything Else. Posted at 12:32 on Tuesday 18th May, 2023. No comments.
There you are. You were out for quite a while. How did the surgery go?
Oh, I can’t say, really. I’m just a nurse. Could you fetch the doctor for me, then?
That decision’s not up to me. The decision to ask a doctor to talk to me?
Exactly. Who is that decision up to?
The doctor. Just the one doctor, or any doctor?
Any doctor, I suppose. So… any doctor can ask you to call the doctor, but you can’t decide to do it on your own.
Precisely. You’re becoming quite the expert on nursing, there! Okay, um… I’m a doctor.
You are? I don’t see that on your chart. That information wasn’t relevant to the surgery. Can you call a doctor for me?
And you’re a doctor at this hospital, are you? Sure. So you can trust my decision, and make that call for me.
You’re not lying just so that I call a doctor, right? I wouldn’t do that to you. We’re friends now.
Oh dear. Fraternization is extremely frowned upon. I should go.
You’ll have to forgive this attempt at a poem
I have never been good at writing them
and I’ve relied on simple rhymes in the past
to try and hide my lack of comfort with the form
not that that ever worked
the use of a common tool
the strict adherence to expected expression
will always indicate fear of failure
I am afraid of failing
That will never leave me, though I’ve been trying
I’ve been trying to let go of my anger and hate and fear
Most important, the fear
But it is tough going
Knowing that those emotions have been a driving force
in my life and work and interactions
both with others and with my own mind
The hate especially has been a ship
I’ve used to sail the oceans of opinions
that would be harder to experience
and now I’m trying to abandon that ship
to dive in to the water with no life jacket or boat
not even a raft
and very little experience with swimming
Fear is not a mind killer
Your mind is never more alive
than when conjuring up the possibilities you’re afraid of
But there is no power in those what-ifs
At least, I think there’s maybe more power in the present
in letting go of fear
as trite as that is
Will I manage it?
I’m afraid I won’t
You’ll have to forgive this attempt at a poem
Just as much as you’ll have to forgive me
For acting out of fear and hate and anger
You’ll have to forgive the lack of rhyme
or reason in my actions
I am scared of drowning
and this ship has been a comfortable place to live
the water looks so cold
and I am far from shore
I Am A Famous Writer, And My Habits Will Inspire You And Remind You That You Are Dirt
Writing is a job, so treat it like a job. I wake up early every day and write. How early? So early that I haven’t even gone to sleep yet. If you’re still sleeping, you’re not a serious writer.
Are you sitting comfortably? Stop, because that ain’t how books get written. A lot of authors like standing desks, which is fine for beginners. Me? I hang upside-down, suspended from the ceiling so the blood can rush to my head and I can think harder. Not better, harder. Writing is the hardest job in the world, but also it should come naturally to you. Or else you’re an imposter.
I write on a typewriter. That I built myself. Out of a junked steam engine. It reminds me that I am doing hard labor, that this is the work of heroes, and sometimes women.
Before I can write, I have to kill something. Usually there is a deer or boar in the large forest on my estate, but if I have no time for hunting (because The Muse is upon me and I must make love to her with urgency) I snap the neck of one of the mice I keep for just such an occasion. Before one can give life to characters, you must make an offering to Death himself. Writing is dangerous work.
When I write, I do not censor myself. Nor do I correct my mistakes. I don’t even bother with sentences, standard syntax, or words. I will not let my art be restrained by the rules of man. I simply sweat upon the page and let the blotted paper tell a story. I mean, if the reader is interested in something as banal as a story.
Not that my work shall ever end up in front of a reader. I have written one hundred and eighteen books, and I have burned each and every one of them on a pyre fashioned from wicker in the shape of a giant book. I roast the animals I claimed in service of the book over the flames, and nourish myself on my own literary ability.
I am the best writer in the world, and I will fight all who deny it. Then I will document the tale of that fight with slaughtered beasts and burnt pages. And when I get a headache from spending too long suspended upside-down, I will know that I have beaten the world, and suffered for my victory. I will place three shotguns in my mouth, and the pulling of the triggers shall be the ellipsis at the end of my sentence.
Weather Queen: Helen, that was a beautiful ceremony. Helen: Thank you, Weather Queen. How have you been? Weather Queen: Oh, you know - nice and easy, warm and breezy, ha-ha. Helen:Warm and bree-? Oh, because of the weather thi- Weather Queen: Uh-huh, ‘cause I control the weather and stuff. Helen: That’s fun. That’s a fun joke. Weather Queen: Yeah. Helen:Speaking of which… It’s looking a little cloudy out there, huh? Weather Queen [sighing]: I knew it. Helen [innocently]: Knew what? I’m just making conversa- Weather Queen: I know exactly what you were doing. You want me to use my powers to make it sunny outside. That’s the only reason you even invited me to your wedding, isn’t it? Helen: Wait, what? No. Come on. No. That’s not… Not at all. Weather Queen: Oh, really? So you don’t want me to change the weather for you? Helen: I’m not saying that. I mean, if you… If you happened to do it I wouldn’t mind… Weather Queen: This is great. I got all dressed up and everything, and now I find you just wanted me here because of my freakish ability. Helen [indignant]: Hey now, that’s not true! I invited you because we’re friends! Weather Queen: Yeah? If we’re such good pals, name one thing about me that’s unrelated to my weather powers. Helen: Um… Your hair is blue? Weather Queen: Firstly, you can see that right now, because I’m standing in front of you. And second, my hair is blue because of my weather powers. Helen: Oh. Weather Queen: Yeah. Helen [disappointed]: So… You’re not gonna change the weather, then? Weather Queen: Oh, no - I will. But you might want to tell your guests to head inside. Looks like a tornado is headed our way. Helen: C’mon, really? Weather Queen: Oh, and don’t think I didn’t notice that line in your vows about being “gathered here in front of our nearest and dearest, all of whom would no doubt fully utilize their genetic gifts to make this day better.” Real subtle, Helen. Helen: Hey, the wedding planner suggested that line! Weather Queen: Well, tell her she’s a piece of shit.