If it’s Monday it must be moped

Barton Hartshorn On Writing, On Writing and Music

Today I’m starting to put vocals on the music and song cycle now known as Twelvemonth. As you can see from my songbook, lyric writing is not always (rarely in fact) a straightforward affair. I work in pencil for a good reason. And don’t let anyone tell you that using a rhyme dictionary is cheating. This song is from the second cycle and …

Harry Potter Normalizes Abuse

Louisa Leontiades Film & TV, Film/TV-Superhero

Maybe it’s my depression that twists a rainbow world into shades of grey. Or maybe the Order of the Phoenix really is a minefield riddled with CPTSD. In fact it’s so bloody obvious that my suspension of disbelief is starting to waver with the Potterverse. Surely there’s one decent, aware wizard or witch who would have said–a kid wrenched away from his parents at one year old might suffer some attachment disorder and need help.

Time, the Cost of Consent and Parallel Polyamory

Louisa Leontiades Diaries, Epic Relationships, Polyamory

Juggling time is a huge deal in a open relationship if the type of open relationship you have means investing in every relationship you develop. And it’s not only in your intimate relationships, it’s time spent with their parents, their brothers, sisters and depending on how close they are, cousins, uncles, aunts and the rest. It’s the emotional labour of negotiating holidays, cultural and family traditions and personality dynamics.

White Fragility and the path to White Depression

Louisa Leontiades Beastly & Beautiful, Psychology

Gone are the days when I positively affirmed every day in the shower, and shared uplifting memes. Now I see these past behaviours as tragic extent of mine and others’ unawareness. I thought if I changed my mindset and concentrated on dismissing the negative and amplifying positive activism, that the world I wanted would resettle itself with my aligned actions.

White woman in the mirror

Louisa Leontiades Beastly & Beautiful

Privileged white woman pain is more gradual and less dramatic than that experienced by intersectional minorities. It is insidious. Kind of like bonsai trees, white women have the innate capacity to grow to a normal size but our roots and branches are cut so that we grow far smaller. Stunted or trained along a trellis in such a way that few see, sometimes not even us.