trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
AnasAbdin

Discoholic šŖ©
occasionally subtle

@theartofmadeline
Misplaced Lens Cap

oozey mess

if i look back, i am lost
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
KIROKAZE
No title available
ojovivo
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Janaina Medeiros

Love Begins
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

izzy's playlists!

JBB: An Artblog!

Kaledo Art
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@axemaderik
The Death of the Digital Ecosystem: Why Decoupling Notes Destroys Tumblr
@staff
For years, the total note count on a post served as a universal metric of a piece of content's impact. Whether a user liked the original post or a reblog fifteen branches deep, that engagement flowed back to the source. This ensured that the original artist, writer, or editor received the full credit for the viral success of their work.
Under this new system, engagement is trapped within the specific reblog a user happens to see on their dashboard. If a massive, high-traffic blog reblogs a piece of art from a small creator, every like and reblog that occurs through that larger account stays with them. The original creator is left with a stagnant note count on their own dashboard while their work generates thousands of interactions for someone else.
Erasure of Creator Visibility
Instead of seeing one post with 10,000 notes, a creator may now have to hunt through dozens of different reblog chains to find where the conversation is actually happening.
If the notes no longer flow back to the original post, the creator loses the ability to see who is enjoying their work, what the tags say, and how the community is responding.
On a platform where engagement often dictates visibility, splitting that engagement into tiny, unlinked fractions makes it significantly harder for original works to gain momentum compared to the high-reach blogs that reblog them.
Incentivizing the "Big Blog" Monopoly
This system rewards accounts that have already established a large following at the direct expense of the smaller accounts that actually produce the content. It transforms reblogging from a method of sharing into a method of acquisition.
When a reblog functions as its own independent post with its own note count, the incentive to click through to the original source disappears. The platform is transitioning from a collaborative ecosystem into a standard social media feed where the person who posts the content lastānot the person who made itāreaps the rewards.
Impact on Collaborative Conversations
Tumblrās unique culture is built on the reblog chain: a chronological, evolving conversation. By allowing users to like or reblog "any part" of the chain as an independent entity, the platform is breaking the narrative thread.
If engagement is siloed into specific branches, the incentive to add to a conversation is replaced by an incentive to simply own a piece of the engagement. This change doesn't encourage conversation. It encourages the commodification of individual posts within a chain, making it harder for the original voice to ever be heard over the noise of the rebloggers.
The Disincentive to Create
Perhaps the most damaging aspect of this update is the psychological toll on the creative community. When the platform actively diverts credit and engagement away from the source, it destroys the motivation to share original work at all.
For many, the reward for posting is seeing how far their work travels. If that travel is now invisible or attributed to others, the labor of creating becomes thankless.
This system makes creators want to share nothing. If the platform is built to harvest a creator's effort for the benefit of curator blogs, the logical response is to stop providing the raw material. I am one leaning into this category. Without us creators, the curator blogs have nothing to curate.
By making it harder to protect and track one's own work, the platform is effectively telling creators that their presence is secondary to the conversations happening around their work: conversations they may no longer even be able to find.
Sharing this specific blog because it perfectly expresses what I'm thinking.
I'm one of those tiny, invisible creator who, naturally, sometimes dreams of one reblog actually getting traction and people finding my work, enjoying it, and sharing that love with me.
Now, should it happen, I will never know. I will literally be shouting into a void while knowing the void will never respond.
Tumblr is amazing exactly because of thet reblog chain. Take away the chain and you take away the conversation. Worse: you allow people the OP may have blocked to actually interact with your works and blogs down the threads because other bloggers haven't got them blocked too.
It is a damaging update that needs cancelled stat. There will be no more point for creators to post their works on here when a few large blogs will reap all the benefit of reblogging their work.
I for one will definitely cease original activity on here. I expect to stop seeing the blogs I love update with original work. Hell, I will feel BAD reblogging their work because that means traction would come to me instead, when that isn't the point of reblogs: the point is to show neat things and quotes and art that I happen upon. I don't want to feel like I'm appropriating someone else's work by reblogging it.
Gods what a TERRIBLE idea this 'update'.
@staff @tumblr @changes
HEY TUMBLR WHATāS WITH THIS HMMM
FUCK YOU IāM REBLOGGING THIS
trucks deserve estrogen too
There not called CISformers for a reason.
reminder that trans men also fought for your rights and refusal to acknowledge this is tantamount to denying historical fact
Some sources for those who may not know:
The legendary trans activist's personal writing is a radical gift.
Lou Sullivan was arguably one of the first publicly gay trans men, known for campaigning for gay trans men to access transition healthcare.
Other US (+ CA) trans men you should know about:
Steve Dain, whose public transition led to him being fired from his job as a teacher. Trans men in the Bay Area would go on a pilgrimage to meet when when they started their transition.
Jamison Green, who took over FTM International and it's newsletter after Lou's death
Reed Erickson, who used his inherited wealth to bankroll early LGBT movements (and also did other wild rich people shit). His foundation "helped to support, both through direct financial contributions and through contributions of human and material resources, almost every aspect of work being done in the 1960s and 1970s in the field of transsexualism in the US and, to a lesser degree, in other countries."
Alexander John Goodrum, who founded TGNet Arizona and helped pass Tuscon's nondiscrimination ordinance. In 2001 he wrote "Gender, Identity Politics, and Eating Our Own," an essay on infighting in the trans community.
Rupert Raj, who started some of Canada's earliest trans advocacy organizations
Kylar Broadus, the first openly trans person to testify before the Senate
Pauli Murray also deserves more recognition; he was a Black feminist legal scholar who did invaluable work for the Civil Rights Movement. He never transitioned, having lived much of his life before trans (and especially FTM) treatment was standardized and accessible. He was labeled schizophrenic by doctors for seeking testosterone and testing to see if he was intersex, to explain his gender identity.
Additionally, while they identified as women, both Leslie Feinberg and StormƩ DeLarverie were masculine people who considered themselves under the umbrella of "transgender" and did invaluable work for our community.
ID: Tags which say "#if you are a gay trans person on hrt in america you have a trans man to thank for your access to hrt #his name was lou sullivan and he was a hero #don't forget him"/End id
āYeah but like you probably at least use chatgpt forāā let me stop you right there. I donāt even know what chatgpt is, software wise. Is it a desktop program, a website, an app? No fucking idea.
Donāt have any desire to find out, either.
TIL that the reason lead levels in childrenās blood have dropped 85% in the past thirty years is because of an unknown scientist who fought car companies to end leaded gasoline. He also removed it from paint, suggested its removal from pipes, and campaigned for the removal of lead solder from cans.
via ift.tt
Yep.Ā It also correlates extremely strongly with an increasing decrease of violent crime.Ā One of the symptoms of low level constant lead exposure is increased aggression and volatility.Ā
āUnknown scientistā? That was Clair Cameron Patterson.
Gas companies are still so mad at him heās āunknown scientistā, know his name
Daily reminder that health and safety standards like these are what politicians mean when they talk about āderegulation.ā
Patterson died 5 December 1995.
Petition to make his date of death a Tumblr holiday celebrated by talking about cool shit the gas and petroleum industries donāt want us to know about, and fighting to continue his work.
Happy Clair Cameron Patterson day!
Oh, hey, itās almost Clair Cameron Patterson day!
Ah. Itās my first Clair Cameron Patterson Day!
Happy Day Peeps!! š„¼
When you thought it would be easy peasy lemon squeezy but it turns out to be difficult difficult lemon difficult.
Wait thatās actually really good, gonna pop this out of the tags
šššāš©
tumblr mobile with bad wifi aesthetic moodboardā¤ļø
š
yeahā¦
Combine your chinese zodiac and astrology sign to make your true fursona
i still hate this post so much. iām an ox and a taurus. iām a bull bull. iām so fucking annoyed oh m y go d
noticed the two types of people in the tags
Aries & Horse. āļø š“
Could be a Deer⦠š¦
OR ITS A UNICORN!!! š¦
(I pick unicorn)
In regards of the Trump government scraping all trans inclusion in its queer information portion of its websites I have made this thing. Spread the word. Don't let them pretend we never existed.
P.S: Don't like! Reblog! <3
Can you make one that explicitly includes intersex please
Of course! Most identities people asked for I meant to be included in the Q or +, but I get the want for a more explicit inclusion, our Intersex siblings need to be seen as well since their rights are also on the line with these executive actions! I hope this version is up to your standards, I can be quite anxious about my handwriting. <3
"Try our new AI tool", "Use ChatGPT", "Our AI assistant can help"
Everyone shut up about Charlie Kirk now, heās dead weāve made the memes move on.
Because Russian just sent drones into Poland in whatās being called āa test of NATOā to see if NATO responds and with who.
Because the biggest extinction event currently is still occurring off the coast of Australia with almost all Marine life being smothered by algae that should not be there like that.
Because we still donāt have the epsitine files and this is likely a distraction to get it out of the media.
Because far right parties (neo-nās if you will) are gathering across the globe.
Because climate change is still an issue.
Because Womenās right are under attack in multiple countries and areas.
Because LGBTQIA rights are being taken away.
Because school shootings are still occurring in America with little to no news coverage.
Because there is a genocide in Gaza.
Because there is famine around the globe.
Because Nepal reportedly shot 19 people for opposing a social media black out.
Because Indonesia arrested reported over 1000 people for protesting against their government.
Because of the Congo.
Because of Ukraine.
Because of every other person and child who is not safe.
Choose a different issue, THERE ARE MANY TO CHOOSE FROM THAT ISNT A WHITE MAN GETTING SHOT
Iāve been thinking a lot lately about some of the people I interact with. I have a coworker who I am pretty sure is a MAGA type, and she is also a lovely woman who is dreadfully overworked and so good at connecting to patients when they call. I can see the conflict on her face when she talks to me, a gigantic tranny dork who speaks Spanish and affirms the LGBT community, but can also talk to her about her cows and knows about guns and stuff. I can see the fear in the eyes of my former Young Menās leader when he misgenders me and realizes that Iām not an ideology but a person he has known for a long time. I can see the way my extended family stop and stutter over political discussions when they realize they are talking about me. And I donāt know why but lately itās just made me think about my neighbor as a kid.
When we moved to Arizona, we moved next door to a lovely retired couple - John and Lucy. John was a veteran of WWII, he had an M.D. and a Ph.D. in radiology, and he LOVED us to pieces. His wife, Lucy, was a sharp and gifted woman - well spoken, very observant, and VERY clever. I just know that she used that cleverness as a mom to great effect, because with my and my siblings she always managed to find a way to send us home with candy and treats for a week despite my dadās protests. We loved them, growing up, and even though they have long-since passed away I love them still, and I love what I learned from them.
John was, as stated, a WWII veteran. He was enlisted as a rifleman, and later as a front line medic, starting at Point Du Hoc and moving inwards to France and towards the Rhine. He let me do a report on him in 6th grade where he shared war stories with me he had kept to himself his whole life - he said it was out of respect for his friends who didnāt get to come home and tell their stories.
He said he told me because he knew I could respect the memories of his friends.
He showed me his collection of medals, and which heād kept hidden away in a sock in his attic because heād feel an immense grief any time he saw them. He had wanted to be a doctor his whole life, prior to being drafted he was studying medicine and had taken the Hippocratic oath to Do No Harm. He saw his medals as a reminder that he had Done Harm.
After telling me his stories he was able to convince himself that while he had Done Harm, it was only because his only other alternative was, to him, cowardice. He chose to be brave even if it meant acting against his Oath because he felt that if he didnāt do it someone else would have to go in his place and he would be responsible for the harm that befell them. I donāt think thatās true, but for him it was and that was something no being on earth could have ever dissuaded him from believing.
He shared wild stories - melee combat on the beach, clearing artillery bunkers, receiving a Purple Heart for being injured in hand-to-hand combat with a Wehrmacht rifleman he said he felt pity for because they were the same age and he had to imagine the man he was fighting had been drafted just like him.
He shared how he was awarded a Silver Star for charging a machine gun nest, but shared that he was most proud of not killing anyone in the process. He threw a grenade with the pin still in it and when the machine gunners jumped to avoid being blown up they were killed by someone else so he didnāt have to do it. He took the machine gun and shot the other machine gun in that French field to pieces so he didnāt have to kill the people operating it. He said they were giving out Silver Stars like candy but I knew he was being modest.
He told me about being redesignated as a medic, about how he crawled for about 500 yards on his belly to rescue an injured tank driver, then threw him over his back and crawled the same 500 yards back (1000 yards total) to treat his injuries. He said he met the man in an Army hospital in England after his spine was broken by a high explosive panzer shell was fired through a hollowed out French farmhouse and landed about 20 feet away from him.
He told me about all the people he helped and saved as a medic, he told me about his work in radiology and research after the war. He showed me a hallway that was quite literally wallpapered with academic honors heād earned as a researcher. He told me about how his first Fourth of July back was a horror show for him because fireworks and German artillery make very similar sounds. He told me about how he woke up in a cold sweat well over half a century later hearing the screams of German artillery men being burned alive with flamethrowers, or hearing his own voice apologizing to the young German soldier he stabbed in the heart at Point Du Hoc.
He told me that when he was asked to present at a medical conference in Germany 25 years after the war ended that he was so scared he couldnāt step off the plane, and that his wife had to hold his hand and lead/pull him with her. He said he was not scared because he was worried about being triggered, but because he knew that someone somewhere outside of that plane had the course of their life irreparably altered by his military service. That to someone out there he was the cause of immense suffering and harm. That some unwitting waiter could be the son of the Nazi Officer he stabbed in the heart with a 12-inch hunting knife. That some woman asking questions in the audience would be the daughter or widow of a man he sent to judgement with a .30-06. He was scared that they would hate him.
He knew what the Naziās had done, he knew better than anyone Iād ever met. Heād watched the documentaries, heās seen the PoWs returning from camps, heād seen the civilians massacred and tortured by their regime, but he also knew that among the monsters were people like him - idealistic 20-somethings who only wanted to make the world better and were ripped away from that life by the Nazi war machine. And he spent his whole life mourning the loss of innocence and peace that was forced on so many people by such a corrupt power.
To be honest I donāt know if I could do that, but he could. He told me he could still feel the dead and lost with him, both when he slept and when he woke. He told me he thought heād go to his grave never having told a word of this to anyone. That the stories of him and his friends and allies would disappear silently with him and those like him. That he had wanted that until he realized that he didnāt have to sell out to share the stories - that he could give the stories away for free to someone who would love the people in them, and not just the content of them. He didnāt want his stories to be used as Patriotic Pornography by some TV network or magazine. He wanted the people he knew to be respected, he wanted their memories to be honored and loved, and he entrusted me, a 12-year-old āboyā to do that.
He told me for years afterwards that after telling me these stories that he slept better than he ever had. That by sharing the stories with someone who could hear Him over the din of victory and glory and honor and revisionistic history. Someone who could see the man in the story and not just see the plot of a battle being won. He wanted to be human, and he wanted the people he saw die to be human too - everyone, not just the people on his side. He wanted someone to see and to know the anguish of having to look someone in the eye as heartblood muddies the ground beneath them and hope that they understand that this was not an act of love or hatred but an act of desperation. To hope that you had just taken out One Of The Bad Ones instead of a medical student or a poet who had been drafted. He wanted me to see how hard he had worked since then to build a world without scarcity, to build a world of peace. He wanted me to know SO badly that the cost of violence, any violence, even necessary violence, is always ALWAYS paid by both parties involved.
I think about the rise of the new right wing - the new Nazi movementās traction in politics, and I feel sad and scared - the world that Johnathan J Yobaggy, my neighbor, my friend, and my hero, worked SO hard to build is being done away with by people who do not understand the cost of the path they are entering. I can see brief moments of recognition in the eyes of some of the people I mentioned - The former young menās president who immediately regrets misgendering me and hen he makes eye contact with me and sees Me staring back at him and not a faceless āideology.ā I can hear it in the voice of my uncle who quietly comes up to me to apologize for some homophobic comment he made absentmindedly. I can see it in the eyes of racists and sexists being interviewed on TV when they realize that they didnāt vote for a concept, they voted for a real thing. And honestly, I have mixed emotions about it. Because while I understand frustration with the status quo, the importance of basic human needs like affordable good and rent, and I know the fear that comes with feeling powerless, I also canāt help but grieve the endless wheel of history bringing us back to this God Damned Fucking Place again. I hope we can avoid this fate, not just for our sake but for the sake of everyone who has ever tried to make the world safer. For everyone who has ever tried to make up for human nature, for everyone who has ever placed themselves on the offering plate to protect others from the cruelty they know lies just under the surface of mankindās tenuous grip on progress. I want SO badly for there to be a solution to this, for the people who idolize the Nazi party and the impact of fascism to see that the price of this path is paid in more than just blood but in soul. That theyāre allowing themselves to be devoured too. I want for the centrists and the fence sitters and the idealists who want to āchange it from the insideā to see how dangerous our politics have become. I want them to see that theyāre losing the things that make them great in exchange for a security blanket thatās now become far far far too small to ever work for them again.
Safety found in the past is already gone, and safety found in the future is only as real as a daydream. That any ideology that promises that by ājoining us now weāll make things rough so we can make things safe in a decadeā is a promise made by those who will not have to fight the battles they send you to.
I donāt know if America was ever really great, but as long as John was alive it felt great to me. There is no ideology that can replace a neighbor. No tax plan that can replace a friend. No grocery bill that can replace community and connection. No amount of budget cuts that can replace kindness. No amount of suffering from people I hate that will ever make more love. I donāt know how to make America great, but I know how to make my America great and it is not by selling out integrity and compassion and community and fucking humanity to make eggs and gas cheaper. It is by seeing and hearing the people around me. Iām not Mormon anymore, but I still know the value of mourning with those that mourn and comforting those that stand in need of comfort. Iām not Christian anymore but I still have Eyes That Can See and Ears That Can Hear. I want to make this all stop but I canāt stop the collective power of tens of millions of people so instead I listen to my MAGA coworker tell me about how sick her kid was last week. I make jokes with my Young Menās leader. I hug my uncle. I let them see me fully, as a human and not an ideology. As a woman and not the concept of gender. As a whole person and not someone who can be easily summarized or boiled down into something short and quippy. And I let them know I can see them fully too, and I can see all their humanity as easily as they can see mine. I just have to hope that this works - that enough people can See and Hear the people in their lives who matter to them to bring them out of their personal world of forms and into the real world.
I am probably, honestly, just spiraling a little bit. I took my ADHD meds today and in addition to helping me focus they make me a little anxious so I doubt things are as bad right now as they seem. But just in case thereās any truth to the way things seem to be going, remember, and I mean this seriously: Be kinder to each other, be gayer, and read more Terry Pratchett.
And for the love of god day hello to your neighbor.
Johnathan J Yobaggyās oldest son is, I believe, also a radiologist. I may have written this about your grandpa. If that is the case, I just hope you know how loved he is. If not, I still wish good things for you and your family because radiology is fresh to death.
Iām a self-aggrandizing whore and I love my own writing so hereās a reblog
Iām so tiredā¦
I just wanna be curled up in a big, warm pile of my friends, half-dozing while I listen to all the soft, nerdy conversations drifting around me. Just the gentle hum of voices I love, the safe weight of people close, and that quiet feeling of belonging wrapping me up like a blanket.
we are only a breath away in this bright summer air ā¢Ā°. *ąæ
His Dark Materials was the first story that made me openly cry at the end. In public too.
Its importance to me is almost indescribable. Sometimes I forget itās there. But when I do my heart lights up a lil.
I havenāt seen the 3rd season because I knew I would cry. I will one day.
Their love was, is the most beautiful heartbreaking thing.
This is so incredibly beautiful