![]() It’s strange– not quite like you’re constipated, but like there’s a softball weighing down on your pelvis, giving you occasional cervical cramps.Īfter a few hours of rolling around in bed, you get up to go eat, unable to wait much longer. Since your cycles are so irregular you’d figured it must be time for another painful period, and if that wasn’t enough you also feel… Heavy. You haven’t had much morning sickness over the course of your pregnancy, but today you woke up ill. Your stomach had pouched out into a small, firm slope as if you were bloated, something you’d attributed to a newly increased appetite. Your light symptoms had easily been explained away by other conclusions, like your already-irregular cycle, and you hadn’t gotten very big. Imagine you didn’t know you were pregnant when you went into labor. again if you think this is about you then it’s probably not but also tumblrs blocking feature sucks so idk not in character If I’m using vague language, then I would rather be seen as neither male nor female. If I’m writing a post and referring to myself as a mother or housewife, then it’s ok to refer to me in those terms. But if you consistently ignore or try to rewrite my identity to make it convenient for you then you are disrespecting me and I’m going to stop interacting with you. I know that these things can take a while to adjust to and the stray misstep isn’t a big deal. My gender is whatever makes you gay for being attracted to me.Īlso, let it be known that I’m not going to get mad at you if you struggle with using gender-neutral language because you’re not used to used to it or because your native language doesn’t have many gender-neutral terms. I understand that the nature of this content means that questions about whether or not I have kids/am biologically capable of having kids is just par for the course, but if you keep prodding me for an answer that I’ve already given you then I’m just going to assume that you don’t respect me and don’t have any reading comprehension skills. Calling me a woman isn’t going to give me day-ruining dysphoria or anything but I’ve gotten a number of messages from people trying to suss out what I “really” am, as if I’m going to be like “lol! You got me, I was just pretending to be nonbinary )” I know some of y’all might be quick to consider me a girl because it’s easier for you or it fits the whole fantasy narrative we’ve got going on here but I need you to understand that when you do that, you are creating a character of me, not acknowledging me as I am. I can understand not knowing what nb stands for but I feel like “they/them” is at least a pretty good clue. In my studio I use one like this, but you can get one for cheap anywhere.This isn’t at any one specific person (it’s the culmination of various experiences from people I’ve already blocked) but, guys,: I put my pronouns in my bio for a reason. Of course, you can just use the timer on your phone, but that requires you pulling out your phone, and, if you’re anything like me, touching your phone means you’re not going to get any work done. If you don’t have that, I say 20 or 30 or whatever your lunch break is. Is there a magic amount of time for losing yourself? Some people say 90 minutes. It’s actually EASIER to lose yourself in the work, because you don’t have to look at the clock all the time. You’d think that setting a timer makes you hyper aware of time, and that’s certainly the case at first, but the real secret of setting a timer is that it means that you can lose track of time completely because you know the timer will tell you when it’s time to stop. Lynda actually recommends TWO timers in her amazing book, What It Is: It’s a trick I learned from Lynda Barry, who uses timed exercises in her teaching. This is always my advice for people who are struggling: just sit down in front of your work every day, set a timer, and don’t get up or check the internet until the timer goes off. To my mind’s perpetual, child-in-the-back-seat questioning (Can we get up yet? Can we get up yet?), I had finally discovered a stern answer: ‘‘Has the timer run down? Then, no, we can’t.’’ ![]() To be exactly 43 minutes from my next break - a break that would itself be of a discrete length - was, it turned out, vastly more bearable than having to decide over and over whether a particular impulse was worth following, whether a creative impasse was the kind that you ought to surrender to or the kind that you ought to overcome. To my surprise and delight, this hunk of Chinese-made plastic proved a capable tyrant. When it came time to work each morning, I would set the timer for no more than an hour, and then, barring fire or bodily emergency, I would not budge. In this week’s Sunday NYTimes, writer Ben Dolnick recommends the simple kitchen timer: ![]()
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