You’re not crazy. They are crazy. The ones who are going around acting like everything’s fine. The ones dismissing the Gaza genocide as a “single issue”. The ones who don’t like it when you talk about this stuff because it bums them out. They are the crazy ones.
I say this because living in the west during a western-backed genocide can make you feel like you’re going insane. Like maybe there’s something wrong with you for not being able to go along as though your government isn’t helping Israel burn people alive, shoot kids in the head, deliberately destroy Gaza’s healthcare system, and target civilian populations with deadly siege warfare in order to annex Palestinian territory. Like maybe you’re defective if you can’t be as chill about all this as everyone else is being.
But there’s nothing wrong with you, and you are not defective. There is something very wrong with a civilization that could go along with all this. It is our genocidal dystopia that is defective.
History is rife with examples of horrific mass atrocities to which the majority of the population did not respond with the appropriate revulsion and urgency at the time. Slavery. The Holocaust. The systematic extermination of other indigenous populations in other settler-colonialist projects. Most of the people who now look back and judge those evils correctly in hindsight are sleepwalking right through their present-day reiteration in Palestine.
Those who stood against the mass atrocities of history tended to be in the minority, because if opposing them was conventional wisdom they wouldn’t have happened in the first place. This shows us that there is no correlation between conventional wisdom and real moral clarity. We cannot look to others to evaluate whether our position on an issue is the correct one, because history tells us that the majority is very often wrong on the most important issues in the present moment when it matters.
And the majority is wrong now. The ones flagrantly supporting Israel’s abuses are wrong. The ones who try not to think too much about what’s being done in Gaza and Lebanon are wrong. The ones who say it’s all so tragic and heartbreaking but it’s oh so very complicated and Israel has a right to defend itself are wrong. The ones who don’t oppose Israel’s atrocities but only oppose their own country sending boots on the ground or spending their tax dollars on it are wrong. The ones who know a genocide is happening but avoid making too much noise about it because they want to make sure the Democrats win the election are wrong. The ones who know it’s a genocide but don’t respond to this reality with the appropriate level of urgency, forcefulness and focus are wrong.
All around us we are bombarded with messages trying to gaslight into believing that we are the ones who aren’t perceiving reality correctly. These messages can be overt, like the propaganda of the mass media and the talking points of the Israel apologists we run into online. They can also be subtle, like the unspoken messages we get when nobody around us is talking about Gaza and how people grow uncomfortable when we do.
But those messages are lying to us. We absolutely are the ones who are seeing things correctly. We absolutely are the ones who are responding to this nightmare appropriately. They are the ones acting like a bunch of lunatics casually strolling around in the middle of a house fire.
Don’t look to others to evaluate your own level of clarity. In a civilization that has gone insane, you have to sort out what sanity looks like for yourself. When our leaders are throwing their support behind an active genocide in a society that is awash with propaganda-induced delusions, we’ve all got to be brave enough to stand on our own two feet.
This is free advice from an expensive psychologist. If you’re an anxious person, do everything for fun. Go to a job interview for fun. Submit documents for fun. Start a blog for fun. Anxiety feeds on importance. Don’t make everything a matter of life and death.
Fun fact, they’ve done studies by playing different cat’s chirps and meows to pet owners and they can often identify their cat’s cry, and identify what the cries mean!!!
Cats and their owners develop their own little language. Adult feral cats don’t meow. They do it for us.
I went to the shelter looking for one old cat.
Two untouched food bowls changed my mind.
At the end of a row of cages sat two senior cats pressed tightly together.
An orange cat named Otis.
A gray cat named Milo.
Neither touched their food.
Neither seemed interested in the people walking by.
They only seemed interested in each other.
I had come with a plan.
My children were grown.
My husband had been gone for years.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I didn’t want a kitten.
I wanted one older cat.
Someone who understood long naps, sunny windows, and peaceful afternoons.
Then the shelter worker stopped in front of Otis and Milo.
“They lost their person,” she said.
I nodded.
Then she told me the rest.
After their owner died, the cats spent days sitting outside the locked front door waiting for someone who was never coming home.
A neighbor left food.
Otis would eat a little and then step aside for Milo.
Milo wouldn’t eat unless Otis sat beside him.
When rescuers arrived, Milo hid under the porch.
Otis stayed in the yard and made one small sound.
Milo came out immediately.
That detail broke my heart.
Not because it was dramatic.
Because it was simple.
Two frightened old cats had lost everything.
And somehow they still found comfort in each other.
The shelter tried finding them homes.
Families wanted one cat.
Not two.
Some thought they were too old.
Others thought Milo seemed too withdrawn.
One family wanted only Otis.
The shelter tried separating them once.
Just once.
Otis stopped eating.
Milo sat facing a wall for hours.
They never tried again.
I kept reminding myself:
One cat.
One bed.
One food bowl.
One set of vet bills.
One small companion.
That was the plan.
Then Otis slowly stood.
His legs were stiff.
His fur was thin.
He didn’t try to impress me.
He simply stepped in front of Milo.
Like a tired older brother protecting the only family he had left.
Milo finally looked up.
The shelter worker opened the cage.
I sat on the floor.
Otis approached first.
Careful.
Suspicious.
Then Milo leaned forward.
Just a little.
And rested his chin on my hand.
Not a purr.
Not a cuddle.
Just a tiny act of trust.
As if he were asking:
“Are we allowed to stay together this time?”
That was it.
I was done.
I looked at the shelter worker and said:
“I think I’m going to need two cat beds.”
She immediately turned away so I wouldn’t see her cry.
The ride home was quiet.
At one stoplight, I glanced in the rearview mirror.
Otis had his chin resting on Milo’s head.
For the first time, neither looked afraid.
At home, I put down two bowls.
This time, they ate.
Side by side.
That night I found them sleeping together beside the living room window.
Otis had one paw draped across Milo’s back.
Milo was tucked against his chest.
Neither looked like they were waiting anymore.
I can’t replace the person they lost.
Some loves leave spaces nobody else is meant to fill.
But maybe love doesn’t have to replace what came before.
Maybe it just sits quietly beside it.
Otis and Milo didn’t need a perfect home.
They only needed the same home.
And somehow, in giving that to them, they gave something back to me.
I went looking for one old cat.
Instead, two old cats made my house feel like home again.
Via Born Legend
getting constant rejection emails from job applications where they ask for 3-5+ years experience when i have 8
it's just bullshit, all of it
literally what the fuck is happening
we live in age of great moral panics about things that don’t matter and zero moral outrage over some of the most egregious societal sins we’ve ever seen
PLEASE We NEED to stop glamourising overworking. The absence of sleep, good diet, exercise, relaxation, and time with friends and family isn't something to be applauded. Too many people wear their burnout as a badge of honour. And it needs to change.
Even during this extreme heatwave when temperature feels like 48°C, K Electric's load shedding continues for up to 12–15 hours a day. This how they facilitate common man in this country. We don't hate our government enough
There is no "Gender war." Men have been abusive to women for generations, and this generation of women is finally refusing to tolerate it anymore. That's all.