![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/29zHfOh:
starlightify:
wastelandelders:
zombeesknees:
queerical:
#i bet she used to think she was above it too
WHY WOULD YOU POINT THAT OUT. but no like at first she looks up like “goddamn these naive idealistic youths” but then her gaze drops for a moment like “yea we’ve all thought that at one point. but thats not how the world works” and she looks back to the dag and eventually gives her the seeds like “i hope you’ll be able to stay above it”
#your stupid revhead car film with scenes between women talking about themselves #where one of those is an old woman #who’s not necessarily blandly sweet nurturing #and not necessarily wickedly crone-like #but is a completely valid combination of both #yes I am a loving and nurturing figure #yes I also am a horrifying murderous crone #behold they are come together in one person #as is the way with most people #wandering in search of our Better Selves
The wastelandelders account has been quiet for a while, as we “elder” ladies have been busy with other pieces of our lives… But I love the tags here, and this seemed the right place to share some thoughts. Life seems to get simpler in some ways as we get older, as we figure out what makes us happy and what we want from our lives. But being older is also so much more complicated.
In the years of a long life we’ll have times when we’re generous and others when we’re selfish. Times of kindness and cruelty, wisdom and foolishness, happiness and sadness. Times we’ve been loved and other times hated.
And all of those histories are carried in the same body and soul, folded into the same wrinkles, hidden within the same strands of greying hair. They are confusing, sometimes: Which of these things am I? How can the parts I’m not proud of still be me? (Possibly it’s history, not gravity, that causes our skin to sag, makes our faces draw down into jowls and our upper arms go jiggly?)
Another reason to love the Vuvalini, isn’t it? They are our experienced, complicated, history-laden selves, and they are treated with such respect, and honor, and they are shown to have such value. Such a shame this is so rare, I would love to have more complex, badass, proud old ladies to squee over!
(thoughts from @bethagain)
@fialleril
starlightify:
wastelandelders:
zombeesknees:
queerical:
#i bet she used to think she was above it too
WHY WOULD YOU POINT THAT OUT. but no like at first she looks up like “goddamn these naive idealistic youths” but then her gaze drops for a moment like “yea we’ve all thought that at one point. but thats not how the world works” and she looks back to the dag and eventually gives her the seeds like “i hope you’ll be able to stay above it”
#your stupid revhead car film with scenes between women talking about themselves #where one of those is an old woman #who’s not necessarily blandly sweet nurturing #and not necessarily wickedly crone-like #but is a completely valid combination of both #yes I am a loving and nurturing figure #yes I also am a horrifying murderous crone #behold they are come together in one person #as is the way with most people #wandering in search of our Better Selves
The wastelandelders account has been quiet for a while, as we “elder” ladies have been busy with other pieces of our lives… But I love the tags here, and this seemed the right place to share some thoughts. Life seems to get simpler in some ways as we get older, as we figure out what makes us happy and what we want from our lives. But being older is also so much more complicated.
In the years of a long life we’ll have times when we’re generous and others when we’re selfish. Times of kindness and cruelty, wisdom and foolishness, happiness and sadness. Times we’ve been loved and other times hated.
And all of those histories are carried in the same body and soul, folded into the same wrinkles, hidden within the same strands of greying hair. They are confusing, sometimes: Which of these things am I? How can the parts I’m not proud of still be me? (Possibly it’s history, not gravity, that causes our skin to sag, makes our faces draw down into jowls and our upper arms go jiggly?)
Another reason to love the Vuvalini, isn’t it? They are our experienced, complicated, history-laden selves, and they are treated with such respect, and honor, and they are shown to have such value. Such a shame this is so rare, I would love to have more complex, badass, proud old ladies to squee over!
(thoughts from @bethagain)
@fialleril
