Complete Insanity. Possibly Edited.

So I’m participating in GISH, and one of the items is to sign a petition.  This is the one I chose, and while I would do more - I’m an American living as a permanent resident in another country.  So I CAN sign these, but I’m not certain whether that signature actually carries any weight.

C’est la vie.

Dear bear:

We’ve known each other for over 20 years now, and there’s no one else in this world I would be happier to call my sister.  This letter was sparked by the GISH, and while mulling over who I’d want to express my gratitude to the most (amongst those still alive, because you knew my grandmother) the first person I thought of was you.

When I first met you, I didn’t know anything about you.  You were a screen name, someone who I knew was smart, was interested in copyright and the internet, and I knew you loved polar bears.  That… was about it.

I rapidly learned that you were caring, protective, could hold a massive grudge, and were giving to a fault.  

Over the years, you visited me while I cared for my grandmother (much to her delight - she thought you were awesome), you travelled from New Jersey to Minnesota to help me clean my basement.  You travelled from Mississippi to Minnesota to Alberta to help me move all my worldly possessions to a new home in another country.  You supported me in the grief after my husband’s death, through my years with my grandmother, you went on a trip to Vegas with me with two of the other most important people to me in the world, you were there through my online relationship with my wife, from friends to best friends to romance and marriage.

You encouraged and continue to encourage me in my writing.  You help me with my struggles even while your troubles are greater than my own.  You spent a month or so of your life looking after my ailing parents (and they absolutely adore you).  I was speaking to them one day a few years ago and used your real name instead of your online handle, and they had no idea who the heck I was talking about.

“That’s the bear.  It’s her real name.”

“Oooh!  The bear!  Why didn’t you say so!”

Parents, am I right?

It’s nice to know when I call them, that they worry about you too.  They always ask if I’ve heard from you, and how your mother is doing.

I bumped into you accidentally one day almost two decades ago, and have flailed my way after you through various fandoms, musical interests, learning how to crochet, the beginning and ending of relationships, friendships, lives - you’ve given so much meaning to me, been so much more of a sibling than anyone else in my life.

You’ve taught me how to forgive when I can’t forget, how to move onward when things go wrong with my head held high.  You’ve taught me how to believe in myself, how to believe in others, how to quit a toxic job, and how to continually persevere in the face of malice and/or the wilful ignorance of others.  

You always believe in me, give me far more leeway than I deserve, and are always, always there for me, even when your own life is trying its best to drag you down.

You’ve given me so much.  I love you.  Thank you for helping me grow, for being my older sister, my best friend, and reminding me that there are really wonderful, giving people out there in the world, and that I should be one of them.

All my love,

T

Me and my bestie, Nessie, on a New Zealand vacation.

somethingsomethingporn:

mererecorder:

Smaug by *Nemca

I had to stare at this for so long before I stopped seeing an octopus.

(via jeza-red)

rainbow-veinsrel:

Some terry pratchett quotes.

(via jeza-red)

fackfackfackfack:

I was curious about something, because with the light of the Amazon announcements, I realized that as a fandom, we treat Christopher, Tolkien’s 2nd youngest child, like he’s a second JRR Tolkien–and don’t get me wrong, I love his work with the Histories, but I realized a major error in our fandom as well.

For all our talk of “but what about women in Tolkien’s works” I realized that there are no search results for his only daughter and youngest of his children. Not on tumblr at least. She’s not devoid of interaction, either, as she has written articles, given talks, and supported general fanworks (such as the Tolkien Ensemble). 

She co-published the Tolkien Family Album, with her older brother, John (now deceased). 

Why does it bother me so much that she has no search results, despite also the severe irony of “We only care about his surviving son, and not at all his only daughter, who her parents had long hoped for.”? Because all of his children are extremely crucial to his work, and not just his sons. 

Frodo is named after her stuffed bear (Bingo Bolger-Baggins), which is highly delightful to me. He eventually altered the name, obviously, to Frodo. 

She attends the Oxonmoots frequently.

She has a BA degree in English and worked as a social worker. (Hence why she isn’t so “famous” as her older brother.) 

She is a member of the Tolkien Society (last I checked, honorary VP).

As Tolkien’s only daughter, Priscilla has noted her father’s “complete belief in higher education for girls; never in my early life or since did I feel that any difference was made between me and my brothers, so far as our educational needs and opportunities were concerned.” [x]

She typed out some of the early chapters of Lord of the Rings for her father (around the age of 14). 

She has written for Amon Hen. 

She was one of the heading trustees for suing Warner Brothers over a breach of contract.

She is one of the founding members of the Tolkien Trust, along with her three brothers.

My point isn’t to devalue Christopher at all, but rather to highlight that while the brothers are important to Tolkien’s works, so was his daughter and for some reason, at least among the American fandom, I almost always see Christopher the only mentioned surviving Tolkien when Priscilla is still alive and active. I get why we don’t have search results for John Francis Reuel Tolkien (his name is so similar to JRR’s, obviously), but you do have results for Michael Tolkien (one tagged post, it seems, but still far more than Priscilla has; she doesn’t even have general Tolkien posts pop up for her as her brothers do). 

I’d also like to point out that while Christopher is no longer a board officer of the Tolkien Estate, his younger sister is. Just because she didn’t write the Histories doesn’t mean that she doesn’t care about her father’s work.

(via ewebean)

scarylullabies:

robotmango:

awed-frog:

robotmango:

it’s ninety-nine degrees outside, four fuck-thousand percent humidity, and my husband was like, “i’m gonna go for a bike ride.” and i was like “why. no. why. don’t put us on the news like that. local fool collapses on unnecessary journey. don’t do it.” so he says he doesn’t want to “hide in the house” because the sun is shining. bruh. honeybruh. “the sun is shining” does not cover it. its hot outside. its motherfucking hot as fuck outside. our outdoor plants have been crying into their hands all week. whole cars are melting into the sewer. our fucking patio umbrella developed sentience to ask me for lemonade this morning

@robotmango, you need to work for the weather forecast - this was both hilarious and so vivid it made me stand up and get some iced tea.

this is a great idea, thank you. here goes. my audition tape for the weather channel. dearly beloved. we are gathered here today to have a fucking funeral for the outdoors. it had a good run, with all its creeks and clouds and shit. pretty great. now it’s ten-thirty at night but still ninety-two asshole-sweating degrees and humid as fuck. everything is hot and slimy, like being a “borrower” that got trapped inside a bottle of shampoo and then accidentally microwaved. you can see on my doppler radar that nothing is moving around out there because everything is probably dead. the only alive thing is the mosquito currently trying to drill a hole in my leg. no surprise that all the shitbag mosquitos are fine, since the thermostat of hell is always at the devil’s preferred temperature. this forecast has gotten away from me a little, but in conclusion fuck the sun

I think I’ve reblogged this before, but “the thermostat of hell is always at the devil’s preferred temperature” is fucking poetry

(via nonasuch)

frank-kastle:

“I believe that’s there’s a really ridiculous and unwarranted stigma that’s attached to both pit bulls and pit bull owners. There are a lot of causes to get behind in the world, but I think that breed-specific prejudices can lead to problems that are as mundane as simply people crossing the street when they see a pit bull, to people being kicked out of their apartments or being separated from their family pets because of the breed of the dog, which has nothing to do with the dog’s behavior or the level of responsibility of the owner”- Jon Bernthal

(via thebatwiggler)

c-is-for-circinate:

Twist on the ‘chosen one’ trope that I’ve been super into lately: your hero is the actual Chosen One, selected by gods or destiny or what-have-you, but they themselves think they’re lying about it.

It’s been centuries and nobody’s been able to pull the magic blade that can kill the demon king from the stone, but people keep dying–so the local blacksmith takes a hammer and chisel to the rock in the middle of the night because fuck it, somebody has to do something.  Little do they know the sword was specifically placed so as to be un-drawable by everyone until somebody came along with enough practicality to do things the sensible way.

The paladin very definitely never had any prophetic dreams, but if she’d said she was leaving her village to go be a mercenary just because she was so desperate to get out everybody would have cried and scolded and been super-judgy, so she maybe invented a Call a little bit.  But now her first aid’s working way better than it should and some weird shit happened the other day with those undead, and she still hasn’t had had any contact from her god but she’s not meant to be this good of a liar.

A trio of con artists take on the persona of an old folk-legend for a job, and gets in over their heads when a little sleight-of-hand gets out of hand and the whole countryside starts believing it.  They end up fulfilling half the prophecy just by deliberately trying so the con doesn’t fall apart around them.  Meanwhile the other half of the prophecy’s coming true around them at every turn, which they keep chalking up to good fortune, assuming one of their co-conspirators is pulling off on purpose, or just plain not noticing because they’re too distracted with the rest of the con.

Possibly I just need to watch The Road to El Dorado again, but seriously, more of THIS trope please.

(via hhertzof)

somekindaspacecadet:

tng: welcome aboard the starship enterprise, a luxury cruise ship drifting among the stars. our crew contains notable elements of Diversity and our captain gets pegged by an omniscient being from another dimension. enjoy the soft jazz concerts, shakespeare performances, and infinitely powerful holodecks at your leisure

ds9: hop aboard Station On Fire Trash Can bitch. does our shit work? no. is this a safe place to live? fuck no. senior officers include Space Dad, Lesbian Terrorist, Trans Worm, Goo, Dr. Twink, and Perpetually Confused White Guy. if you want to get dragged into an elaborate crime syndicate, contract a deadly space disease, or get stabbed in a barfight, you’ve come to the right place. also, holosuites are for fucking. yeehaw

(via hhertzof)