girls changing wherever because being ladylike isn’t a thing when everyone’s a lady
girls who literally couldn’t give less of a shit about their appearance
freshmen who care too much about their appearance (watch them turn into seniors who stopped giving a shit)
uniform violations for the silliest things—colored shirt under your uniform instead of a white one, wrong shoes, patterned head band, wrong color socks
seniors with skirts SO FUCKING SHORT not because of some tired stereotype but because who the fuck wants to buy another skirt when you bought two or three in freshman year when you were like 13
actually by senior year all your uniform pieces are falling apart. even your socks
boys from your brother school trying to get with you except they haven’t realized that 1) they’re gross testosterone lumps and 2) lesbians are a thing
that one girl who always wears the optional pants and is absent on days when the skirt is required
ALL THE POPULAR GIRLS ARE LESBIANS
GROSS TESTOSTERONE LUMPS
OK SO WHEN I WAS YOUNGER I MOVED TO AN ALL GIRLSCHOOL AFTER BEING IN A COMP FOR MOST OF MY SCHOOL LIFE HERE IS WHAT I LEARNT ABOUT GIRLSCHOOL IN MY YEAR THERE:
-BOUNDARIES DO NOT EXIST, IF YOUR TIGHTS ARE FALLING DOWN, YOU HIKE THAT CROTCH UP NO PROBLEMO IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALL WAY, GOT CRAMPS? ANNOUNCE IT. NEED A TAMPON? SHOUT DOWN THE HALLWAY SOMEONE WILL GIVE YOU ONE.
-GIRLS ARE MAGICAL PROBLEM SOLVING CREATURES, WE HAD A NO MAKEUP RULE AND IN THAT YEAR I LEARNT HOW TO USE VASELINE AS MASCARA, HOW TO CREATE A ROCK SOLID HAIRBUN THAT STILL LOOKS POOFY AND CUTE AND HOW TO GET RID OF SPOTS USING NOTHING BUT TOOTHPASTE AND ICE.
-GIRLS HAVE WEIRD TRADITIONS LIKE CLEANING OUT LOCKERS ALL AT ONCE AND TRADING THINGS DOWN BECAUSE UNIFORM AND STUFF IS EXPENSIVE AND PEOPLE LIKE TO TRADE JEWELLERY AND THINGS IDK I NEVER EXPERIENCED THIS.
-GIRLS ARE PACK ANIMALS, IT DIDN’T MATTER IF YOU HATED THAT BITCH IF A GUY CHEATED ON HER OR HURT HER IN ANY WAY HE WAS UNDATABLE TO THE ENTIRE FORM.
This past summer, I had an incredible experience out in Montana scouring the northern Morrison Formation for ancient beasts and lost worlds. It’s been part of an equally incredible year of research and related projects: I rode out to Chicago to get a firsthand look at some exciting new specimens from the depths of deep time (see image at the end of the post), I’ve been playing with some real old Leidy holotypes, I may have semi-accidentally so-far-informally commissioned Brian Engh for a painting or two, and I’m scheduled to present on the jaw morphology of Tiktaalik at SVP in Albuquerque in just over a week’s time.
However, all of this has been hindered by some sudden and unexpected challenges:
The high cost of city living, low income of museum work, and unforseen family medical issues over the summer have resulted in the uncomfortable but very real and scary fact that I am currently unable to properly take care of rent/utilities/personal bills.
Thankfully, I was able to register for SVP with enough advance notice, so I am still slated to present – but with not enough left to spare for flights/accomodation. Since 2019’s conference is in Australia, this year’s SVP will likely be the only major opportunity in my undergraduate years to network in person for potential job openings or grad school opportunities, and for once I know exactly who I need to talk to. But only if I’m there.
On top of all this, and probably the reason why it’s gotten so bad in the first place, at some point within the past few months my anxiety most likely developed into fullblown depression, which (in addition to the whole apathy and lack of motivation thing) is significantly more terrifying than I would have initially expected. Medication is obviously on my mind at this point. In theory I could deal with this after all the other stuff, but since I’m a bit new to all this that might not be the wisest of decisions.
I have not been able to reach out to family regarding any of this – partly because of the aforementioned medical issues, but mostly due to financial uncertainty on their end as well. Same goes for their own mental health – and I don’t want my own issues to potentially endanger their safety or well-being.
And with most other options exhausted, the only remaining (and admittedly shitty and unfair) option I could see involves turning to the folks on tumblr. Do I feel bad about it? Yes. But honestly I feel more scared right now than anything else.
As of now there are a few ways to help out:
PayPal: kns67@drexel.edu (I know PayPal has a bit of a shitty reputation these days – if you know of decent alternatives, please feel free to share)
Venmo: @diplotomodon
And honestly even just shooting me a message is helpful at this point. I feel a little better when I can talk to people about it. And any questions are equally appreciated if you needed some things clarified (either publicly or privately).
Any support you can offer (through donations, messages, or reblogging/signal boosting), no matter how small it might seem, would mean the world to me right about now. I’ll provide updates as regularly as I can, and if I can promise one thing for sure, it’s that I’ll give it everything I’ve got to pay it forward.
Mace Windu takes his seat on the council and waits for the other members to join the session. Currently it’s only Ki Adi and Yoda who’ve joined him, both quiet and lost in their own thoughts. Mace isn’t about to bother either of them, not wanting to deal with Yoda and his constant rambling speeches that circle around and around, like an Albatross looking for land.
Today they’re discussing Obi-Wan Kenobi. The youngling who has a hard time controlling his temper and a harder time finding a Master. He’ll be thirteen soon, and from the way things are going, it doesn’t seem the young one will find anything within these temple walls.
Perhaps-
The thought stalls out before Mace can even finish it and he feels a shatterpoint begin to form. A shatterpoint that feels oddly familiar. It feels like-
Him.
There’s a burst of light and Mace finds himself staring up at….himself. Ki-Adi and Yoda both startle in their chairs, Ki-Adi drawing his saber on the intruder who he can only see from the back.
“Put that away before your hurt yourself.” Mace Windu says and turns to face Ki-Adi.
“What in the Sith!” Ki-Adi exclaims and then holsters his saber.
“Calm down.” Windu says, hands on his hips. "I came back through a shatterpoint to take care of some very urgent business.“
“Very urgent this must be.” Yoda croaks in his horrible little gremlin voice and Windu considers planting his fist in Yoda’s entire fucking face before opting against it. Punching the master of the order isn’t going to help him….yet.
“Only if you consider the obliteration of the Jedi Order urgent.” He snaps it at Yoda, pissed beyond belief at the sass he’s getting. Yoda’s ears perk up and he looks more alert than Windu ever remembers seeing him.
“The obliteration of the order?” Mace echoes it and shares a look with Ki-Adi. "What happened?“
“The fucking Sith happened.” Windu half shouts and waves his arms. "Motherfucking Sith are invading the motherfucking SENATE.“
"The senate?” Ki-Adi parrots and Windu snaps his head to glare at the man.
“Senator Sheev Palpatine.” Windu confirms. "He’s a Sith lord.“
"A very heavy accusation this is.” Yoda humms and Windu goes from mildly pissy to volcanic eruption.
“HE CUT OFF MY HANDS AND THREW ME OUT A FUCKING WINDOW.” Windu explodes. "I’LL SEE THAT ASSHOLE BURN IN THE DEEPEST PITS OF HELL BEFORE I LET HIM KILL ME AGAIN.“ Even Yoda goggles at him, mouth dropping open at having someone, anyone lift their voice at him in anger. It hasn’t happened in….Yoda doesn’t actually remember.
"How.” Ki-Adi clears his throat. "How we do stop that from happening.“
"The first step.” Windu says, voice dropping to a low angry growl. "Is to get that little shit Kenobi a master.“ He stabs a finger in Mace’s direction. "And NOT your wookie-fucking friend.”
“That was one time.” Mace says incredulously, taken aback at Windu’s anger at a man he thought they would both call friend. "And he’s just going through some hardships, he needs-“
"Qui-Gon Jinn needs SHIT.” Windu spits it. "He needs some fucking therapy is what he needs. If I come back here and find out you gave Kenobi to him I will be VERY unhappy.“ And as suddenly as he appeared he vanishes, leaving Mace alone with two other very confused members of the council.
XxX XxX
Mace tries.
He talks to the few Jedi Masters around the temple that don’t have Padawan’s to teach, even goes so far as to ask Master Dooku if he’d be willing to train a youngling with a case of anger issues.
No one wants the boy.
Mace is….just too busy. No really, with his new seat on the council he’s far too busy with paperwork and council meetings to even consider taking on a padawan, especially one as volatile as Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is being disciplined yet again for picking a fight with another youngling.
Whatever that child has against young Bruck, Mace hopes he can be reasoned with, and soon. Or he’s going to find himself aged out with no one to blame but himself.
Well. There’s always-
Pain explodes in his face and leaves him reeling, stumbling back and blinking away the stars as blood starts to pour from his newly broken nose.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU?” Windu roars at him and Mace cups hands over his nose, staring at his older self with both apprehension and terror.
“I asked around.” He says, sounding nasily and annoyed. "No one wants the boy. He’s too quick to anger.“
"Too quick to anger my entire black ASS.” Windu says and Mace raises an eyebrow. "That boy is being bullied and no one gives a shit because you’re all too busy shoving your heads so far up your own asses you can taste your own shit.“
"Force, you’re full of profanity.” Mace says, glaring at his older self who slaps his hands out of the way and fixes his nose in one hard crunch of pain.
“You shut the hell up and go tell that boy you’re going to train him.”
“I’m too-” Windu has a handful of his robes, backing Mace up into the wall hard and fast and somehow LOOMING even though they’re the same damn height.
“The next words out of your sithdamned mouth had better be ’overjoyed to train Obi-Wan Kenobi’.” Windu snarls and Mace’s shoulders slump.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He mutters it and Windu vanishes like he’d never been there at all. "I really don’t like future me.“ He says to himself and then heaves a long sigh and goes to track down Obi-Wan.
XxX XxX
"I hear you’ve been having visitations.” Qui-Gon greets Mace during one of his very rare temple visits.
“I am and I hate him.” Mace grumbles into his caff.
“How can you hate him? He’s you.” Qui-Gon points out, like a bastard who’s never been punched in the face by his future self.
“He’s an asshole.” Mace says. "He punched me in the face and every second word out of his mouth is a profanity.“
"Well.” Qui-Gon cocks his head to the side and for a moment Mace can pretend the darkness that lives in Qui-Gon’s soul over the loss of Xanatos has lessened. "You must have done something to piss you off. Force knows I’ve wanted to punch you over the years.“
"Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Mace says dryly and Qui-Gon laughs for the first time since Xanatos fell. Force. It hurts to see his friend hurting and Mace takes a careful moment to consider-
“WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY?”
“Oh come ON.”
“I honestly thought you were joking.” Qui-Gon says, looking wide eyed between the two Mace Windu’s. The older one isn’t much older, maybe thirty years or so, but he wears them well.
“I am so sorry.” Mace tells him and Qui-Gon raises an eyebrow in question and completly misses Windu’s fist.
He wakes up on the floor, groggy and covered in his own blood.
“You can’t just PUNCH people.”
“I CAN PUNCH WHOEVER I WANT YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE.”
“Look. I wasn’t going to-”
“No YOU look. I can only show up when you’re about to make a FUCKING DECISION that will lead to the FUCKING DESTRUCTION OF THE GODDAMN JEDI ORDER.”
“Do I do that?” Qui-Gon asks from where he’s staring up at the ceiling, fixated on a missing tile.
“You don’t fucking HELP matters.” Windu says, voice sharp. "Get your dumb ass up off the floor before someone mistakes you for garbage.“
"What do I do?” Qui-Gon asks again and Windu fucking growls at him, fixes Mace with a hard look, and vanishes. "Okay you’re right.“ Qui-Gon tells Mace who snorts out a laugh and goes to help him off the floor.
"Oh I don’t know. I’ve wanted to punch you over the years.” He echoes Qui-Gon’s words and earns a groan as Qui-Gon hauls himself up off the floor.
XxX XxX
“Talked to many masters we have.” Yoda says and Mace hunches over in his chair because if Yoda is about to say what he thinks, this is going to be a very bad council session. "Train the young Kenobi, none of them will. Too much anger he has.“
"He was always so promising.” Ki-Adi sighs it and Mace breaths out in relief that maybe, just maybe he can get through talking or thinking about Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi without his alternate self showing up to throw hands and yell, as if that’s going to solve problems.
The future must be a very bleak place.
“Talked with Obi-Wan, I have.” Yoda says. "Speak to Qui-Gon Ji-ACK.“ Yoda’s words cut off at the enormous Korun fist in his face.
"HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES DO I HAVE TO COME BACK HERE?” Windu roars it and then turns in a circle so he can address the whole council. "HOW GODDAMN HARD IS IT TO FOLLOW ONE FUCKING RULE? DO. NOT. GIVE. OBI-WAN KENOBI. TO. QUI-GON. MOTHERFUCKING. JINN. YOU DENSE MOTHERFUCKERS MIGHT AS WELL SEND A FORMAL FUCKING SURRENDER TO SHEEV PALPATINE.“
"Oh fuck my entire life.” Mace mutters it, drawing a startled look from Kit sitting to his left. "Fine. Fine. I’ll train the boy.“
"This had better be the last fucking time I come back here.” Windu warns in a low, mean voice and then he’s gone. You could hear a pin drop in the council chambers until Yoda sniffs.
“Bleeding, I am.”
XxX XxX
Mace scowls all the way down to the creche, scowls all the way through picking up Obi-Wan, who looks equally sullen even though he’s finally been taken on as a Padawan. Together they scowl all the way back to the new rooms Mace has taken, already missing his single suite.
“I have to go take care of some things for the council.” Mace says, not even looking at his new padawan for fear of resenting him. "I’ll be back by the evening bell.“
"Yes Master Windu.” Obi-Wan says, as if having a Master is some horrible obscure punishment. Should have given him to-
“Finish that thought and I will kill you and take your place.” Windu hisses in his ear, making Mace jump like a frightened cat.
“Why are you here?” Mace demands, trying and failing to calm his pounding heart. "I took the boy didn’t I? I’m training him just like you wanted.“ Rather than respond, Windu shoves him out of the way and then goes down onto one knee in front of the boy.
"Hello young Kenobi.” Windu’s face brightens with a smile and to Mace’s surprise the boy goes from sullen storm cloud to a bright little sunbeam.
“Hi Master Windu. I knew you were real, even if no one else did.”
“Well of course I’m real.” Windu reaches out and ruffles Obi-Wan’s hair, tugging gently on the boy’s ear to make him laugh. "I’m just from another point in time, that’s all.“
"Thank you for finding me a Master.” Obi-Wan says and then his voice lowers and Mace can barely make out what he’s saying.
“Youngling.” Windu’s voice goes impossible fond, the way Mace remembers talking to Deepa when she’d first moved to their new quarters and she’d had bad dreams. "Everything is going to be alright. I promise.“
"Okay.” Obi-Wan’s voice goes small and he darts forward suddenly, circling his arms around Windu’s neck in a tight hug. Windu wraps him up in a hug, holding on until Obi-Wan draws back first, rubbing at his cheeks like he’s trying to keep Mace from seeing his tears. "Thank you.“
"Of course.” Windu says and then gently bumps Obi-Wan’s chin with a knuckle. "Chin up young Kenobi. You’re future is as bright as the sunrise.“ And then he’s gone and Mace is left with Obi-Wan who sniffles wetly.
Mace swallows the urge to heave a long, endless sigh at how his life is turning out and drops to one knee, tugging out a handkercheif and wiping down Obi-Wan’s wet cheeks. "There’s no need for tears, padawan.”
“’M Sorry for crying.” Obi-Wan’s eyes drop and he shuffles his feet, like he’s waiting for Mace to administer a punishment for having the ever dreaded emotions.
“It’s fine.” Mace says and then gives into the urge to sigh. "Would you like to meditate?“ He asks, mentally reshuffling his afternoon.
"I’d like that very much.” Obi-Wan says and he feels like a beacon of brightness in the force. "Thank you Master.“
"Alright.” Mace gets to his feet. "Let me show you where the mats and incense are.“
Someone stole a 21 foot hammer from the community center in Healdsburg, CA and it hasn’t been returned so someone else (I’m assuming) mysteriously installed a 3 foot nail that reads “BAIT” on its head. (article)
I love this ask because it’s such a polite way of going EXPLAIN THAT POST ELANOR
EXPLAIN YOURSELF
EXPLAIN YOUR PEOPLE
I’m not sure if you’re after the history of the thing, or the actual practice of it, since ‘tradition’ could cover either – so, I’ll give you both, and hopefully your answer will be in here somewhere. I will also include more Frightening Images of the Mari Lwyd because you can never have too many horrifying photos of ornery skull-masked winter horse demons to scare the tits off you.
Okay, so. The Mari Lwyd.
Now, the first concrete recorded incidences of the Mari are from the late 1700s/early 1800s, but as with a lot of Welsh history, that’s misleading. We didn’t write a lot of our own shit like this down for much the same reason that Egypt never mentioned where to find Punt, and the English didn’t generally travel into Wales much if they could help it. Given that it seems to fold into a lot of other older traditions, though (the Hooded Animal, the Mast Beast, etc), and those have pre-Christian roots,
I believe there’s a theory that it might have its roots in worshipping Rhiannon, the Welsh version of Epona, the pan-Celtic horse goddess. But there’s no way to be sure.
The meaning of the name is disputed. It’s generally accepted to mean “Grey Mare”. For a while some people thought it meant “Holy/Blessed Mary”, as in, y’know, the Virgin Mary, but this is no longer accepted because
“Llwyd” means grey, not white, and “gwen” is the colour normally used to also mean pure or holy; grey would be more likely to mean venerable/wise, which the Mari Lwyd ain’t;
I think there’s reference to ‘Mari’ being used for ‘Mary’ (instead of ‘Mair’) in the Black Book of Carmarthen, so at least since the 14th century, but that was likely only by poets – there’s no record of common folk using it before the Protestants came and reformed everything, so it seems unlikely that it could have been the original name; and
As far as I am aware there is no record of the religio-historical figure of the Virgin Mary mounting the donkey’s head on a stick and hammering down the door to the inn with a half-empty bottle of gin in one hand while scream-singing insults at the innkeeper so he’d give her cheese.
So, it’s generally accepted now that the connotations with Christian Marian symbolism are part coincidence and part encouraged among the clergy post-Reformation so that everyone could keep getting blind drunk with a horse’s skull and calling each other a willy. Plus, both Ireland and the Isle of Mann have very old hooded horse traditions too, called the Láir Bhán and the Laare Vane in Irish and Manx respectively. Both meaning, surprise surprise, the “white/grey mare”. Given that Wales and Ireland had a lot of historical interaction, this seems like more than coincidence.
Plus, you know, it is kind of a grey mare. Bones are white.
It did have other names in some places, mind – I think Carmarthenshire had some weird name for it, like Y March or y Gynfas-Farch, but you mustn’t ever listen to people from West Wales because then there would we be? Calling woodlice ‘pennysawls’ and claiming the word “Wi’n” is an acceptable variation of the verb “to be”, that’s where.
Anyway. Once upon a time, this was seemingly a mid-winter celebration in Wales, which then became a Christmas celebration until the Church went “You’re doing WHAT” and it became New Year instead. But, it did vary when different villages would do it. Some would do it on New Year, some at Christmas, some in that weird week in between when you don’t know if the bins are going out or not… You get the idea. These days, it’s New Year, as a rule.
Now, Europe does have a lot of varying traditions of doing this shit – google ‘mast beast’ for exciting photos. But usually, the beast is made by someone bending over beneath the sheet to make it look, you know, like the beast they’re mimicking. The Mari Lwyd stands out because, alone of all of them, she stands up straight, and is seven feet tall. She is the tallest of all the mast beasts. In a country where the average female height is 5’4", and men not much taller, that makes her fuck-damned enormous.
So, with that out of the way, let me tell you how it goes!
Traditionally, making the Mari is an important part of the whole thing – most villages would have a set skull they’d use, like, but the decoration was a week-long community affair, because as we all know, it would be creepy if you just stuck a skull on a pole oh my god. You have to put ribbons and glass eyes on it! That stops it being creepy! Obviously!
(Also, as a side note, battery-powered fairy lights have been a gift to the Mari Lwyd.)
The skulls, incidentally, were almost always from a beloved village horse who had at some point died at a ripe old age, and then whose skull was taken to live on as the Mari. Most villages knew their names, decades later. Down the Gower peninsula I think there was one account, mind, that they used to bury the skull for the rest of the year, and just dig it up in time for the Mari. But most kept it in a cupboard, like. Next to the sugar. I dunno. An important point, though – the skulls are also rigged so the person inside can snap the jaw, and incidentally, few things in this infinite and wondrous existence are as creepy and low-key primally unnerving as hearing ten of these things around you snapping in the dark, just btw, just fyi.
Anyway; you’ve spent a week decorating! (Although these days they’re kept pre-decorated.) What now?
The Mari party gathers at about midday. That’s the Mari herself, plus others – it varies who, but classically, I think they dressed up as Punch and Judy characters, those being the mischievous comedy extravaganza of the day. Then they start at one end of the village and go to the first house, where they sing Cân y Fari. That’s a bit like yelling ‘Trick or treat’, except rather than asking for sweets, they’re after delicious alcohol and cheese (side note: Wales’ relationship with cheese goes beyond Peak White Person and out the other side into What Is Wrong With You People. We have myths and folklore about it. It is Very Important.)
Now, the house holders do not want to give away their delicious alcohol and cheese, and so at this point, they begin something called the Pwnco (the ‘w’ is pronounced like the ‘oo’ in ‘book’, while the ‘o’ is short like in ‘hot’.) The Pwnco is, like… sort of like a rap battle? But sung. But that’s the idea. It’s beautifully poetic, and almost always opens with the same very nice verse, to whit:
Wel dyma ni’n diwad (Well here we come) Gyfeillion diniwad (Innocent friends) I ofyn am gennad (To ask leave) I ofyn am gennad (To ask leave) I ofyn am gennad i ganu (To ask leave to sing)
which you can hear a bit of here; I filmed that in Llangynnwyd. But, it’s very much a “So’s your FACE” type of thing. The householders tell the Mari to get straight to fuck, and then the Mari responds in kind. And they go back and forth until one side loses.
Now, if the Mari loses, she goes to the next house. But if the householders lose, they have to let her in and give her their delicious alcohol and cheese. IMPORTANT STEP, HOWEVER: if they have a bare ounce of sense between them, they first make her promise to behave before letting her past the door. Because if they don’t, HA HA all hell breaks loose, and the party do as much mischief as they can, like smearing ash on your walls and stealing your goats and mixing your white laundry in with your colours and hiding your drawing tablet pens. It is a Riot.
Anyway, once done, they leave the tattered ruins of your former house, go to the next house, and start again. More delicious alcohol and cheese!
It all got banned by the Welsh Non-Conformist Church of No Fun ever, because rival Mari parties would get blind drunk and then fight each other in the streets. It started to die out in the 50s, though some smaller villages kept it going – Llangynnwyd never even stopped. And in the last two decades it’s started making a resurgence in places like Brecon, Llantrisant, etc – tonnes of places in the belt between Vale and mountains, really, which makes me think it’s because the Folk Museum is in St Ffagans.
But Chepstow do a modern twist – the town is right on the border with England, so they do a festival of Welsh Mari Lwyd and English morris dancing combined in mid-January each year. Turns out, every goddamn Mari in the country comes to it, too, which is why this year I got to see 24 Mari Lwyds. I had NO IDEA. So, so many Maris…
It also used to sometimes get mixed in with other festive cheese-begging traditions like Calennig, but it is pretty much separate. As a final question: why do it? Well… we dunno. The purpose of the uppity skeletal horse beast is unknown at this point. Like I say, it may well have been a Rhiannon thing; given the way it got folded into some Christian things post-Reformation, it may have absorbed some form of fleeing-on-a-donkey-to-give-birth stuff. It’s hard to even nail down distribution patterns. But, something I find interesting about its distribution is that it was predominantly done in areas that either mined, smelted or sold minerals a lot. Make of that what you will.
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