Sometimes I cry happy tears when I hear kids having a grand old time playing at playgrounds. That sort of pure joy is so far from my grown-up experiences, it’s like my brain can’t process it anymore.

I wish I had the permissions to install ad blocks on my work laptop. On the plus side, the kids I work with are learning that ads are to be disliked. When an ad interrupts something we’re watching, I go “booo.” Now one of my students does it, too.

At least I can consider it a form of inoculation - gotta teach ‘em young to resist the ever-present brainwashing attempts advertisements.

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Yeah, just rub it in, why doncha

would it kill you to let her continue in the game?

I mean, technically…

I’m so sorry that shit like that is still happening. As an (as-yet undiagnosed) autistic child, I was in the same boat. Bullies use their “strength in numbers” to have a gaggle of friends agree to lie against a lone victim, perhaps one who’s already known to struggle with emotional regulation. It’s nearly impossible to convince anyone of your innocence when other kids weaponize your weaknesses like that. Maybe you threw a chair against a wall in class one day, and now the school administrators are ready to believe that you’d escalate to actually attacking someone (even though you don’t have a history of hurting anyone. Just inanimate objects. Because believe it or not, some of us do have some degree of self-control.)

I’ve been there, and I know what absolute bullshit is possible for someone like us. I’m livid on your behalf.

Thank you for this.

It’s so simple, dumb, and judging from the dopamine hit, exactly where my brain wanted to go.

I didn’t know what it was at all until I came to the comments. I just thought, “Why is there a random cooler rolling around? Did somebody lose it?”

Ah, can’t wait to look back on this comment a few years from now and slowly shake my head at how naive I was…

I work with kids, including a bright little boy who told me that “Why?” is his favorite question. I explicitly tell him that I hope he never stops asking it. His questions challenge the depths of my knowledge and compel me to look up questions I never thought of before. I love it.

I call him my “little scientist.” He’s only 4 and he teaches my coworkers new things all the time. I feel so lucky to get to work with a little knowledge-sponge that’s as curious as I am!

I love to make a positive impression on the world. I love to empower children, give comfort to those around me, to volunteer my energy and talents for a greater good.

But in the back of my mind, sometimes there’s a little voice that reminds me, “Whatever good you put into the world, your mom can vicariously claim to have created. This will never not be true, because she is responsible for your existence.”

And I hate it. I learned what not to be by observing her. I learned how hypocrites are able to function, how some people are able to override reality with their “feelings,” and how manipulators manage to get their way. Credit goes where it’s due, for sure, but she really shouldn’t be proud of the things she taught me. I became who I am in spite of her, not because of her.

I came to the same conclusion. I know how my mom reacts to news she doesn’t like - she defaults to denial. My memory has always been stronger than hers, so there’s no shortage of incidents that I remember, that she has long forgotten. (The tree remembers what the axe forgot, after all.) If I were to attempt to bring things up, she’d deny such things ever happened. Instead of me having catharsis and her having self-recognition, I’d be put in a defensive position and she’d say I’m exaggerating or making things up. Which is to say, attempting to have a serious talk with her always makes me feel worse.

Thankfully, I have siblings, and they remember what our childhood was like. We have all given up on trying to get our mom to see the light. Instead, we have a secret group chat where we can vent as needed.

This is why I love Lemmy. There’s a recognition that we’re all imperfect beings stuck in this crazy thing called “life” together. It only makes sense to support each other.

my existence is technically “illegal” lol

Small community Lemmy, you’re one of those commenters that I feel like I kinda know (even though I totally don’t. But I seem to upvote you a lot, so you’re recognizable in a good way.) I just want to say, I think this is a really cool fact about you. It’s like you were born a badass.

The only things that could make it cooler would be if you were born with your middle fingers raised, or your first words were, “Fuck the system” (in any language.)

Minutes ago, I was hoping to get laid by the new person I’m texting. However, it’s past 9pm on a Friday and they went to sleep. Totally understandable, I think.

Now, I’m laughing at an obscure history reference that I just learned through a community called “Really Shitty Copper,” and my nerd-brain is telling me, “This is better anyway.”

Meanwhile, some distant voice in the back of my head is yelling, “Dooooork!”

… Being in your 30s is fucking weird.

Instructions unclear. Now stuck on a cosmic journey.

Well, they did show up at her door and asked to help her “come to Jesus.”

Thank you for the clarification. I agree 100%!

Not once have people channeled negative emotions into action or art. It’s impossible.

Except, no? Art is about expressing one’s self. There’s tons of art out there inspired by negative emotions. Anger-fueled protest songs, Emily Dickinson’s poems about death, countless paintings created to express a people’s or an individual’s plight, the list goes on.

Being positive is definitely better for one’s health, but to say negative emotions have never and could never be used to create art is absurd.

Edit: Or was your comment sarcasm? I truly cannot tell anymore.

Aw, actually I did have pet cockatiels as a teen. (Sadly, not for long - my parents didn’t know how dangerous Teflon was, and my babies paid the price.)

They didn’t care to be held like this, but boy did they love face scratchies.

Who knew that even birds could be fans of bondage