Of course there is. That’s what the art of living is.

I read A Scanner Darkly years ago and it made me uncomfortable. Then I read about Dick and it made so much sense.

Uhh, US biscuit or UK biscuit?

Damn girl, this one is a knockout.

Masking is a transdiagnostic* risk for this exact reason.

Every time I see someone raking leaves I get the urge to thank them profusely. I wish lawnmowers and leaf blowers would just vanish. What happened to scythes, anyway?

As a child refugee who has moved around a bunch, I completely agree. I was never inducted into community, never shown how to establish this vital component of a pleasurable life. And some part of me understands that community doesn’t just appear, you have to work at it to find the people you want to be around, but how does that happen? Not in the logistical sense, that I understand how to approach, but in the relational sense. How does one begin to belong having never felt belonging in the first place?

Omg right? Summer means sandals and bare toes and that means summer is king. I walked around yesterday feeling sun on my skin and it felt like I was recharging spirit energy. And my regular walking sandals are so light now it’s like being barefoot. Ahh, heaven.

In my understanding “stay Black” means “remain authentic,” not “retain your melanin,” so the statement holds.

Realized? Very young. Had the language to articulate my experience? Still working on it. From the outside looking in a lot of this must seem like an intentional choice to differ. It’s how my mom approached it, like I was just intentionally being difficult. It’s how people around me approached it, like I was just intentionally refusing to fit in. My only exposure to autism was in the form of a middle school classmate, and we were not similar, so I never expected that my condition was closer to his than to the allistic folks around me. Some weeks ago I filled out a questionnaire, the RAADS-R. Got a score above the autistic threshold, and things sort of just…became apparent. After ten minutes of reading about the actual autistic experience I was relieved and heartbroken to discover that what I was living through all along really did have a name, and was not in fact just me choosing to intentionally lead a more difficult life. So I was 33 when I learned that I am autistic.

Buckshot is intended to hunt deer. Turkey shot consists of much smaller pellets, which can still do significant damage to a human, but the effective range is lesser due to the way the shot spreads out. Turkeys also see colors differently from deer, so while you can wear blaze orange and not spook the deer, you will absolutely be spotted by a turkey.

Not OP, but yeah, basically. Lots of incidents of hunters getting shot while turkey hunting.

I wonder how much of this has to do with the fact that most of us don’t chose the name we have? I’ve met people whom simply do not “look like” their name. It feels strange to refer to them by something that feels…other. I imagine this is why some cultures allow people to move through names as their lives go on. If we were given the space to emerge as a name, one embodied and truly ours, I think this phenomenon would be lessened.

Took the RAADS-R questionnaire two weeks ago, and got a score significantly above the threshold. Was kind of stunned for a moment, then hopeful. Then I began reading more about autism, and holy shit I can’t believe its been right there this whole time. A lifetime of feeling alienated and profound unbelonging and the answers were here all along, I just didn’t know where to look.

You did this? Way to go!

If not for labor unions we would still be working 12+ hour days. The 8 hour workday and the weekend is all thanks to the courageous efforts of labor advocates.