imposter syndrome is so funny like fuuuuck i hope nobody finds out im tricking people into thinking im competent by knowing things and doing them
hello vonnie
Mike Driver
Three Goblin Art
Claire Keane
YOU ARE THE REASON
Sade Olutola
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

pixel skylines
d e v o n
Not today Justin
Cosmic Funnies

#extradirty
DEAR READER
One Nice Bug Per Day
todays bird
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

@theartofmadeline

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@andromedastars
imposter syndrome is so funny like fuuuuck i hope nobody finds out im tricking people into thinking im competent by knowing things and doing them
(having a good week) that’s right. the goal is to increase my baseline. make the spirals shallower until they spin lazily on the surface of the water, lose their suction. im not trying to fix it all at once, im trying to incrementally improve my way into something tolerable. and once im there maybe i can shoot for good
(having a bad week) and in my terrible forge i will temper the flames of ruin
so happy and free
this is going to be a silly reblog but i have kind of a fixation on animal qualia and the idea of an animal's umwelt, so i ended up wondering whether pudding was actually "enjoying" this.
which meant i went and read about snail brains.
here's the bad news, at least by human standards:
snails do not have anything like a centralized brain. their nervous system is made up of small clusters of neurons (ganglia) that mostly handle very local tasks. they don't have a cortex, they don't build big integrated models of the world, and they almost certainly don't experience things like appreciation, anticipation, or savoring.
pudding is not looking at the sky and thinking it's beautiful.
snail eyes are basically light sensors - they can tell bright from dark, but not form images. snail "taste" is done through chemoreceptors on their tentacles and around their mouth. those receptors don't produce flavor the way ours do; they just detect chemical compounds and sort them into "approach," "ignore," or "avoid."
so there's no evidence that snails enjoy food, or wind, or views, the way mammals do.
and that does sound kind of sad. but then i thought that maybe we are asking the wrong question.
snails do have valence. they detect aversive things (like salt or dryness) and withdraw from them. they detect non-aversive or beneficial conditions (like moisture) and stay extended. when pudding is stretched out like this, it means his nervous system is basically saying "this is safe; nothing is wrong."
if we define pleasure not as our human experience of dopamine and reward chemicals but instead as "the absence of aversion" - a state where the organism is open to its environment instead of defending itself - then this does count as something positive, even if it's extremely nothing like human enjoyment.
pudding isn't appreciating the wind. but his body is registering humidity, safety, and the ability to keep functioning, and that matters to him in the only way his nervous system can make things matter. he does not think "this is great, this is awesome, i love the weather", because he doesn't think in the way we do at all, but the neurological action in his ganglion tell his body that he is safe, that the moisture is an acceptable level, that it's not too dry or windy, and that there's nothing imminently threatening.
i think a lot of the sadness comes from assuming that a good life has to look like ours: full of enjoyment, meaning, and aesthetic experience. but a snail isn't missing those things. its world just isn't built to include them.
snails don't have a sense of flavor. they don't even have tastebuds. this seems like a gimme, right? but again that might be asking the wrong question about what "taste" is. biologically speaking, it's chemoreception. we taste sweet because it indicates high value, high calorie sugar molecules. we taste salty for salt, umami for proteins. so in what way does pudding's chemoreceptors differ from ours instrumentally? we can say "by our human perspective, pudding can't experience "preference" or "savoring" or "anticipation of delicious food"", but from pudding's perspective we have radically overengineered ourselves for the task at hand. pudding can tell what's salty, what's high value, what has the chemicals he needs. the functional outcome is that he can discriminate food souces based on their composition. is that not taste?
so maybe the point isn't "this is sad because he can't enjoy it," but "this is a reminder that minds come in radically different shapes, and value doesn't have to be rich to be real."
Random linguistic worldbuilding: A language with six sets of pronouns, which are set by one's current state of existence. There's a separate pronoun for people who are alive, people who are dead, and potential future people who are yet to be born, and the ambiguous ones of "may or may not be alive or aleady dead", "may or may not have even been born yet", and the ultimate general/ambiguous all-covering one that covers all ambiguous states.
The culture has a specific defined term for that tragic span of time when a widow keeps accidentally referring to their spouse with living pronouns. New parents-to-be dropping the happy surprise news of a pregnancy by referring to their future child with the "is yet to be born" pronoun instead of a more ambiguous one and waiting for the "wait what did you just say?" reactions.
Someone jokingly referring to themselves with the dead person pronouns just to highlight how horrible their current hangover is. A notorious aspiring ladies' man who keeps trying to pursue women in their 20s despite of approaching middle age fails to notice the insult when someone asks him when he's planning to get married, and uses the pronoun that implies that his ideal future bride may not even be born yet.
A mother whose young adult child just moved away from home for the first time, who continues to dramatically refer to their child with "may or may not be already dead" until the aforementioned child replies to her on facebook like "ma stop telling people I'm dead" and having her respond with "well how could I possibly know that when you don't even write to us? >:,C"
@witchofanguish it is also used in poetry and plays, ghosts talk like that. Imagine being in a folk story, staying overnight in an abandoned cabin and in the middle of the night there's a knock on the door and a bellowing voice going
LET ME IN.
and from the "me" alone you know that whoever is out there is not one among the living.
David Lynch aka David Keith Lynch
Light-bulb sea squirt (Clavelina lepadiformis). Mar Piccolo of Taranto, Italy
my head just fell off and exploded again if anyone even cares
women and fish would put aside their differences to beat the living hell out of me
me every time i take a sip of my cappuccino: do they know it's called cappuccino because the color is similar to the sackcloth worn by capuchin friars (cappuccini). do they know capuchin friars got their name from the hood (cappuccio) they wear. do they know cappuccino is a double diminutive as it comes from capo ('robe') + uccio = cappuccio ('hood' but literally 'little robe') + ino = cappuccino ('tiny hood' but literally 'tiny little robe'). do they know
Yeah well my mom's selling me to Kraftwerk
Dragons are extraordinarily good mimics, escaping human predation by disguising themselves as common airliners, some even going so far as to sport crude copies of carrier logos. This makes them difficult to track, though most sources agree that the dragon population is critically endangered.
While there has been some success with halting large-scale dragon hunting, conservationists are still concerned about a recent spate of crashes in otherwise healthy adults.
Given that dragons communicate via radio signals and that most crashes occur near military radar stations, it is theorized that the radar may be disorienting the dragons. Investigations are still ongoing.
I fixed it
my autopsy results came back negative There was nothing in there
my toxic trait is if i saw a trail of blood i'd follow it and not out of a desire to help
oh no, universe, please. don't let me want things again, i can't withstand it. something in me is undulating, restless. i have so many beautiful things and beautiful friends and all my needs are met. and still, this ache - when i get back and go to bed, she stirs in me again. not quite, she says, keep looking. you're not home yet.
Slime & lichen // Jamie Rosencrans