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Metaphor - Blog Posts
one of my absolute favorite conversations i have with random gentiles goes like this:
me: i face a lot of harassment and weirdness when i wear a kippah and star of david in public.
gentile: ok but u could just not wear them.
me: i mean yeah but i do.
gentile: but u could just not wear them and then ppl wouldn’t harass u and be weird to u.
me: yeah maybe but i do wear them.
gentile: but u have the option not to.
me: correct. but i choose the option to wear them.
gentile: but if u didn’t wear them then no one would know.
me: sure. but i do wear them.
and it goes round and round and round in a circle for like 20 minutes bc goyim cannot comprehend why i would not want to just shut up and assimilate.
anyway here’s ur reminder that telling ppl who are being oppressed or discriminated against to just hide whatever it is that people are targeting them for is contributing to said oppression and discrimination. forced assimilation is violence, and telling people “just don’t do/wear/say x thing that’s a core part of your identity” makes you complicit in that violence, if not actively a part of it.
Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude
theres this one drawing that i spent hours on, that i put a lot of effort into. everybodys just treating it like trash despite my best efforts to keep it nice and pristine. my cat is using it as bedding right now.
i feel like there’s a metaphor somewhere here.
I love having the resources to print a 30 page full color packet at home without worrying about the financial repercussions but then not having a FUCKING STAPLER
There’s a metaphor here somewhere I’m sure of it
people are like "if you put crabs in a bucket they can't escape because they keep pulling each other back in, this is called crab bucket mentality and describes why people don't help each other" and never acknowledge that crabs do not naturally occur in buckets, a human with more power had to put them there
Here’s a silly little metaphor for my aroace experience, as someone who grew up with romcoms and shipping and “romanticised” romance. Because I can’t express my emotions in a non-jokey way.
CW: kind of a vent so it’s a bit depressing
It’s like someone who really wants to eat meat, has to be vegan. Not by choice, but because they physically can’t eat meat. Let’s say they’re allergic or something.
Sure, there’s vegan substitutes for meat and milk etc, like facon (fake bacon) and vegan cheese. And sometimes, it tastes good, maybe even better than the real deal.
But they’ve heard of how great meat tastes, and to such details that they can imagine the exact sensation. Though they’ve never had a bite, they’ve always thought that one day, they’d be able to eat all the meat in the world.
Recently, it dawned on them that they can never take a bite. And they’re fine with that, they have to be. Eventually, they move on with their life. They try to avoid thinking of meat as much.
They see people eating meat, everywhere. And it’s much more noticeable, now that you know you’ll never be able to taste it. And you get more curious, and jealous. You want to ignore it, but people eating meat is all around you, it can’t be ignored.
And the way people describe the taste is so glorious that you can’t help but feel happy seeing other people enjoy their meat. You feel happy thinking about the unattainable. But at the end of the day, that only makes you feel more miserable and empty inside
AaAAAa!!!! She's sitting on my shoulder!!! <333💕❤💕
If I am to become another berry picked too ripe so I can be sold to the masses I will use the cut I was given so you can rot away in the warm sun on the vines. I won't let you, my daughter, be eaten by the people even if you must eat me alive in exchange.
snippet of Dear Daughter I Never Wanted
abstract art he says
i dont much understand it
he says its intriguing
i find questions with no answers
he says in a good way
i tell him i can't stand not knowing
he says im like abstract art
i dont much understand it
Wolverine is an interesting name for Logan.
While he is somewhat feral and hairy, yes, that’s not enough to go off of when Scott and the Professor stumble on him in those woods. Another trait of a wolverine is that they are easily domesticable. Easily tamed, in a way. Xavier took one look at Logan, who was broken and scared, invaded his mind to shape it how he saw fit, and named him after one of the most tamable wild species. And even still in the X-Men, he is shamed for his animalistic instincts. He is expected to be tame and civilized, is expected to be domesticated like many wild animals people bring into their homes. And when he acts on these less desirable instincts, he is cast out, in a way. When he lashes out, whether in some sort of courtship- much like a wolverine- or because of overstimulation, he is scorned and tosses aside until he is ‘presentable’ or docile. He is fundamentally deprived of the pack activities from the very animal he is named after, and is just expected to be okay. He is expected to discard these instincts, and yet he is named after the very thing these instincts resemble. He is used as a work animal, sent into dangerous situations like a canary in a cave, only to be retrieved and saved if someone may be fond of him- like someone may be fond of a pet. Logan is presented as an animal, and is yet expected to act like a man.
Anyways, Scott/Storm/Wade is the white lady who takes one look at a traumatized fight dog, goes ‘oh, buppy’, and has that thing spoiled in a week.
I downloaded Obongbong's ink brush and WTH, I like drawing in CSP now (SB Pro has been my main for the longest).
Tested it by drawing the Metaphor Refantazio crew ✨️
nights at the hushed honeybee 🐝
the responsibility of nobility and all that
TRANS ART
Idk made this for that one trans tag but I wasn't there on the day so ummm yeah here it is lol
I have swallowed molten lead. Swallowed it myself. It tasted like empty seats in crammed up rooms and a pile of gathering dread.
It tastes like whispers I can't hear, my mouthful of molten lead. Like train tickets, bus fares I've never seen, and farewells that remain unsaid.
It tastes like rhythms I can't balance, my stomach of molten lead. Like the half rotted sweetness of memories in retrospect, and a pile that is already dead.
Our friendship deader than the sea on which we sailed,
Too long ago on a cloudless night.
Maybe if I'd known better then, I would've paused,
And never let myself drift out of sight.
Capitalism is so disgustingly goopy, sticking and amassing into deposits which never seem to release, creating increasingly larger gaps in equality.
How do you get a billionaire to care about anything when they’re coated in a mucous bubble of capital, sealed off from the real world?
This makes me so happy and sad at the same time.!🥺
To stray beyond the lines is to imply you are through with your visions, that you wish to join the mêlée.
Lytton Smith
Breaking Waves
See the water receding back into the endless abyss
Feel the pull as it gathers strengths in the thousands
Tiny waves coalescing into one
Before it breaks upon the immovable cliff face
Nothing less will make a difference
But something as grand is only mutable
Until the edges are worn by the relentlessness
As the mineral is shaved away by the layers
To not be seen and understood
Until the final blow is dealt
The consequence becomes too shocking
For the cliff rooted in its position
More than a chip off the shoulder
A gaping hole of what once was
The water surrounding the broken piece
Consuming whole the bitterness of old
There is a time for traditions
But there is also time for change
To not allow the growth of all things
Is to let them be enraged
- pyxisjaded
also today i was walking my dog and some old dude, in southern fashion, stopped to talk to me about her for a solid 5 minutes and at one point she started barking at something and i said sorry she’s so loud and he said to me “aw that’s alright. she’s a coonhound so she’s got lungs fit to blow the trumpets at rapture” and then chortled as though he hadn’t just spit the southern equivalent of shakespearean improv at me on the street
A Napkin
I feel like I'm a blank canvas, a sheet of paper, the napkin you use to clean up spilled coffee. A blank slate, to be filled with wondrous images, colours and blends. An artist sits down, struck with a thought, and precedes to sketch, doodle or create a new masterpiece. After they're done drawing on the napkin that is me, no one carries me back home. They throw me in the bin. It doesn't matter how great the art is, for the canvas is a napkin and must be thrown away. Forever forgotten. Forever lost. And the cycle repeats. Artist creates art and throws the napkin away. Everyone sees the art, but no one sees the canvas. The canvas is forgotten. Disposable. The canvas is the real picture that everyone refuses to see.
The Javelin
I feel as though a javelin has impaled me, from my back. But the thing is though, that the javelin's invisible and if you hide it well enough, the blood is too. The trick is to walk on like before, as if life couldn't be better, with your head held high even though it hurts, even though you want nothing more than to collapse and cry out your pain. That you want nothing more than to ask some seemingly kind stranger to take out the javelin and dress your wounds. But I think that when it pierced through my flesh, it impaled my heart as well. It's lifeless now, blood running dry from its vessels, my body left to live on only pain and miserable tortures.
A world of words
I like seing the world as a library. Streets as shelves and people as books. All with different covers, some plain but the pages are filled with insight and pride. Others are elegant and beautiful, though the ink is stained and pages scraped. Some are closed, some are open. Some pages are filled with small letters to fit it all In there, while others are still waiting to be filled. I love being in the library, and I will cherish every single book I bring home.
Well I think this is just about done. Not bad for my first finished watercolor piece. : ) I'll add some more details later today
What do you think the Titans symbolize?