there is a small space called the in between between not having and having, where craving settles and lingers. i don’t want comfort i prefer silence. something in me hates the fact that you listen now, that you pause when i say something isn’t right, that you ask for my opinion and take it seriously. i see your potential while feeling myself stretched thin at the edge, less tolerant, less patient, emptied out. i’ve let go of things i once fought for, and i’m no longer who i thought i was meant to be. what i want most is escape. i no longer measure things through your eyes, i don’t feel the need to be liked anymore, and the distance in me has turned cold and hollow. for years i wanted this safety, steadiness and now that it’s here, it feels fake, like something imagined too long. i see now that i may never need it, that some of it lived only in my head, and that you may never change or do but that no longer moves me. i want to leave everything as it is and go. i’m no longer in the middle, not pulled to either side. maybe it’s freedom, maybe it’s peace, maybe it’s just running, anything it is idk and i don’t want to know either.
❤8
you never, i mean NEVER, truly know what people are going through.
❤10
elllowww peeps
i like when the sky is blue but the sunn thooo.
i like when the sky is blue but the sunn thooo.
❤3
Imagine if us non tech peeps had an event,
What would we do? Be miserable together?😂
What would we do? Be miserable together?😂
😭7
Every time I try to write what I think, I end up fighting my own opinions. I keep telling myself I need to reach some level of certainty before I’m allowed to deny the other side.
💯1
so lets write from down here, i don't think i can sleep without doing that.
❤🔥3
Do we have to lose our morals in order to reach understanding?
i have recently realized that to understand and enjoy something, we must indulge in it first, stay with it long enough until it becomes swallowable. As if resistance is immaturity, and endurance is intelligence.
(Everything I’m saying comes from the position of someone standing outside the door. Idk much about movies. I haven’t watched many. But as a normal human being, I still have questions especially when it comes to “cinephile” culture and the way it speaks about art.)
There seems to be a process to growth you grow first in order to carry more.
Nothing is meant to be taken in all at once!( see self aware)
With movies you usually start with simple animations or family films, stories that feel safe and familiar. Over time, you move toward darker material, toward discomfort, toward things your brain slowly learns how to hold. Music follows the same path melody before noise, rhythm before screaming. There is a natural progression.
But somewhere along the way, that progression became a shortcut. Enjoying art started to mean enduring the extreme. The unspeakable. The unwatchable. These are now treated as proof of depth, as markers of taste. To be disturbed is no longer an effect of art,it is its credential.
I recently watched a movie I found deeply uncomfortable, even wrong. Yet the reviews praised it endlessly. I couldn’t even stand fully inside my own reaction, because the “cinephiles” had too much to say. Their language seems confident, intellectual, final.
insert*( maybe i am too woke)
Pain and disgust had been turned into something to admire, something to defend, Ithe purpose of art, as James Baldwin said, The purpose of art is to lay bare the questions that have been hidden by the answers,” meaning
Instead of giving us simple solutions or telling us what to feel, art should make us pause, question, and reflect, not force us to abandon our morals or reactions just to appear sophisticated.
it feels like loathing itself has become the question and endurance the answer.
As if the more you can tolerate, the more you understand.
I still believe enjoyment is a process. You stay with what is good or familiar long enough until your mind asks for more. But I also know people who jump straight into the undigestible. When I watch that, it doesn’t always feel like curiosity it feels like performance. Like watching movies not to feel or reflect, but to reach the level of another “cinephile,” to belong to a language that rewards numbness.
And I think something gets lost there.
I think we’ve started to trade our morals for understanding. Or at least to treat moral discomfort as something childish, something that must be outgrown. I still believe there are points I haven’t reached yet that I need to watch more, see more, sit longer in order to understand( again I am self aware babes)But the process of indulging in art is supposed to be freeing. Instead, it sometimes feels like a disguise.
There’s a two quotes I don’t remember where I read it that says:
“They call it art so no one asks what it’s protecting.”
or
“Art can shine truth or be polished enough to bury it.”
Art can mirror pain. It can make you feel. It can make you weep, shake, or break open. But it doesn’t have to make you abandon your morals in order to be considered good. Discomfort can be meaningful without being worshipped.
And I keep returning to the same question without an answer
does understanding really require the loss of righteousness or have we confused understanding with desensitization?
i have recently realized that to understand and enjoy something, we must indulge in it first, stay with it long enough until it becomes swallowable. As if resistance is immaturity, and endurance is intelligence.
(Everything I’m saying comes from the position of someone standing outside the door. Idk much about movies. I haven’t watched many. But as a normal human being, I still have questions especially when it comes to “cinephile” culture and the way it speaks about art.)
There seems to be a process to growth you grow first in order to carry more.
Nothing is meant to be taken in all at once!( see self aware)
With movies you usually start with simple animations or family films, stories that feel safe and familiar. Over time, you move toward darker material, toward discomfort, toward things your brain slowly learns how to hold. Music follows the same path melody before noise, rhythm before screaming. There is a natural progression.
But somewhere along the way, that progression became a shortcut. Enjoying art started to mean enduring the extreme. The unspeakable. The unwatchable. These are now treated as proof of depth, as markers of taste. To be disturbed is no longer an effect of art,it is its credential.
I recently watched a movie I found deeply uncomfortable, even wrong. Yet the reviews praised it endlessly. I couldn’t even stand fully inside my own reaction, because the “cinephiles” had too much to say. Their language seems confident, intellectual, final.
insert*( maybe i am too woke)
Pain and disgust had been turned into something to admire, something to defend, Ithe purpose of art, as James Baldwin said, The purpose of art is to lay bare the questions that have been hidden by the answers,” meaning
Instead of giving us simple solutions or telling us what to feel, art should make us pause, question, and reflect, not force us to abandon our morals or reactions just to appear sophisticated.
it feels like loathing itself has become the question and endurance the answer.
As if the more you can tolerate, the more you understand.
I still believe enjoyment is a process. You stay with what is good or familiar long enough until your mind asks for more. But I also know people who jump straight into the undigestible. When I watch that, it doesn’t always feel like curiosity it feels like performance. Like watching movies not to feel or reflect, but to reach the level of another “cinephile,” to belong to a language that rewards numbness.
And I think something gets lost there.
I think we’ve started to trade our morals for understanding. Or at least to treat moral discomfort as something childish, something that must be outgrown. I still believe there are points I haven’t reached yet that I need to watch more, see more, sit longer in order to understand( again I am self aware babes)But the process of indulging in art is supposed to be freeing. Instead, it sometimes feels like a disguise.
There’s a two quotes I don’t remember where I read it that says:
“They call it art so no one asks what it’s protecting.”
or
“Art can shine truth or be polished enough to bury it.”
Art can mirror pain. It can make you feel. It can make you weep, shake, or break open. But it doesn’t have to make you abandon your morals in order to be considered good. Discomfort can be meaningful without being worshipped.
And I keep returning to the same question without an answer
does understanding really require the loss of righteousness or have we confused understanding with desensitization?
❤4🔥1
Scribe your soul out
Do we have to lose our morals in order to reach understanding? i have recently realized that to understand and enjoy something, we must indulge in it first, stay with it long enough until it becomes swallowable. As if resistance is immaturity, and endurance…
the movie that made write all of this was “poor things”
it was such an awful watch.
( you might find things you like the colors, whimsy aesthetic or the dramatic wardrobe my problem was with the question it brought up)
it was such an awful watch.
( you might find things you like the colors, whimsy aesthetic or the dramatic wardrobe my problem was with the question it brought up)
mtsm, i have so much to say and nothing at all because of this.
https://www.theguardian.com/film/2024/jan/24/bound-gagged-poor-things-feminist-masterpiece-male-sex-fantasy-oscar-emma-stone-ruffalo
https://www.theguardian.com/film/2024/jan/24/bound-gagged-poor-things-feminist-masterpiece-male-sex-fantasy-oscar-emma-stone-ruffalo
the Guardian
‘She’s bound and gagged for laughs’: is Poor Things a feminist masterpiece – or an offensive male sex fantasy?
The Oscar contender about a sex-crazed young woman with an infant’s brain is dramatically dividing cinema-goers. We asked cultural commentators for their verdicts. Warning: contains spoilers
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Ngl I am today years old when I learned about birthmarks and how they occur.
dero I used to joke about myself, saying:
“እናቴ እኔን እርጉዝ እያለች የሆነ ምግብ አምሯት፤ ሳትበላ ገላዎን ታጠበች፤ ለዛ ነው ጥቁር የሆንኩት።”
woo i was a funny kid!
dero I used to joke about myself, saying:
“እናቴ እኔን እርጉዝ እያለች የሆነ ምግብ አምሯት፤ ሳትበላ ገላዎን ታጠበች፤ ለዛ ነው ጥቁር የሆንኩት።”
woo i was a funny kid!
😭10