6 June - 20/135

Thank you so so much, very less time is left, please keep sharing and donating, anything really helps me a lot at the moment ❤

I did some math last month because I was curious how much the Japanese curry dinner for four that I made (including four Cokes) would cost where my internet friends and coworkers live.

All of the amounts are in USD.

USA: $20.43 [not necessarily what I spent, but using the data for the US from the same sources I used for everywhere else.]

Norway: $27.97

South Korea: $25.18

Australia: $19.82

Japan: $17.11

Canada: $16.97

UK: $14.66

India: $5.12

Long story short, I’m spending my money on Laylaaa this month.

As my Grandmother used to say: Study hard, learn lots.

Edit to add, because I have to clarify/justify (thanks, brain)…

I figure someone is going “TyGryph… What does the price of curry in Australia have to do with tuition in India?”

It’s… you know those charity commercials that run in the US? “For the price of your daily expensive ultra latte, you can feed three starving children and this bastard cat!”

When I was 17, there wasn’t money for expensive coffee shop drinks on any kind of regular basis. I couldn’t imagine having $100 a month to spend on myself, let alone donate to any charity for any reason. I never gave the economy of those charity countries any thought as all when I was a teen.

When I was in my third year of university, my dad was laid off from his job of almost 25 years. I called my credit card company to try to get a raise in my credit limit so I could pay my tuition before it started accruing late fees. [They refused. I didn’t get a credit increase for many, many years after that.]

So I understand, from my own experiences, what it’s like to have tuition due and have life not cooperate. There wasn’t Tumblr yet, and I don’t know that I would have been strong enough to ask for help if there had been. The point is I have the means to help now, and while it’s limited, I can still make a difference.

I understand that the cost of living varies from place to place [the curry dinner probably costs more on the West Coast than it does here in the Midwest, even], and I let my curiosity win and researched it after I made curry last. So I have the numbers to know that even though it’s a smallish amount to me, for her it’s huge.

Mood.

I am a human with depression, and I feel exhausted all the time. Napping is my new hobby, except it exacerbates the insomnia…

My Doctor told me this week that I need to be intentionally active - she means exercise, but clearly didn’t want to use that word - for my mental health. As a person with a sedentary job and art/writing hobbies that generally keep me seated… Ugh.

I’m gonna try it though. Getting enough sleep helps my meds work, and getting physically tired so I can sleep more/better will help my meds work their best, right?

Olive skin, black hair, skinny, dirty face with pale lines where tears had sliced through the ash and dust. A white chiton dress and a threadbare shawl draped over her shoulders.

A pair of wings - huge, black vulture wings, far too large on her tiny body - were the only things that suggested she was divine.

The general shifted his weight from foot to foot. Obviously respect had to be given to gods, but… “Er - I’m sorry, I was invoking Ares? The god of war?”

The child god shrunk in on herself, and pulled the shawl over her shoulders. She muttered something. “Sorry?” the general asked.

“Ares is the god of slaughter,” the child god said in a slightly louder voice. “Not war.”

The general looked at the priest. The priest shrugged, clearly lost at sea. “Well,” the general said, “then maybe Athena? Goddess of tactics in war?”

“Tactics,” the child god repeated. “Not war.”

There was a long, ugly silence, as the huge vulture wings shifted with the whisper of brushing feathers. “My name is - was - Iphigenia. Daughter of Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, commander of the Greeks who stormed the walls of Troy. When my father disgraced Artemis, and the winds of Greece would not blow her battleships to Troy, I was brought to Aulis. For my wedding, I was told. I was-”

She sobbed. Teardrops dribbled off her chin and fell to the temple floor. “I was fourteen. And then I was brought to the highest altar in Aulis, and - and then - and-”

Another sob. “I was fourteen,” she said.

The vulture wings draped over her, and she disappeared under the cloak of black feathers. When they parted, and when the child god looked up at the general, he fell backwards. Those eyes. Eyes he’d seen a thousand times in battle -

“I am the true spirit of war, general,” the child god said. “I am the goddess of bloodshed, of sacrifice, of the slaughter of innocents. I am invoked when men ravage, burn and pillage. I am invoked when mothers cry out, when sons die, when daughters are stolen. I hear it all, general. I have heard it all since the fall of Troy.”

The terrible wings opened up. The child god loomed over the fallen man, twenty, thirty feet tall. Somewhere, the priest was screaming. “How dare you call upon my name.”

every time you all reblog this post i'm imagining you're taking scorch and magic on a little trip around the website. i hope they're having fun

Garibaldo....

the :( at the end-

TELL GARIBALDO YOU’RE SORRY! 

Garibaldo sniffling in a corner while all the other cousins kick your ass for talkin shit.