World of lemonade [Dushes] @dushesforever - Tumblr Blog

When a student copies an essay online instead of writing it and then painstakingly changes every word to a synonym until the text no longer makes any sense...

call that the Ship of Thesaurus

trek-tracks

Any educator who doesn't feel this on a visceral level has never had to experience the psychic pain of reading the phrase "Unused York City."

maniculum

A lecturer at Middlesex University in 2014, Chris Sadler, coined the term "Rogetism" for these. Perhaps the best:

Source.

vigilantsycamore

I'm trying to hide my plagiarism but the clapping of my sinister buttocks keeps alerting the lecturer

#LMAO #exactly the reason i never rewrite nor copy stuff for studying

soracities

the number of times i think about the full body viking skeleton i saw in the museum is ridiculous like when i say it haunts me i mean it actually haunts me

soracities

every time i remember the questions are endless — what was his name? what did his mother call him? what sounds did he wake up to? what sounds did he die to? how old was he when he died? how old when he fell in love? how old when he first fell out? who cried with him and laughed with him? who cried for him? how many miles of separation can i draw between my ancestors and him? was he kind, serious, jokey? was he sombre or impulsive? was he chatty and good-humoured or a cantankerous asshole? like…i have never stopped thinking about this.

soracities

the fact that at one point in time this was a living breathing person. with memories and petty hates and the dumbest jokes. and friends he loved. and the fact that he probably at some point burst out into drunken song or punched someone in an argument or GOT punched in an argument or tripped into the mud while his friends pissed themselves laughing or or or or…countless or‘s into infinity

and the fact that before all of that this massive skeleton was tiny toddler (was he scared of the dark? did he squabble with his siblings? did he have siblings?) who may or may not have hid behind his mother or probably got hoisted onto an adult’s shoulders and in his little mind thought this person was the strongest human in the world and that he could hold the whole sky up just by standing there like that and as long as he was up there he was king of the world or could be.

like…what am i supposed to do with this? what does ANYONE do with this? how are you supposed to cope with the enormity of this while at the same time realising just how tiny and fleeting our lives are? there is literally more than a THOUSAND years between us & ALL of it has been pinched down to a glass case not even 2 inches thick like…i’m losing my mind.

gummywormy

I got this feeling when I saw some petroglyphs on the side of a cliff like.. a human made those. That human felt all of the emotions I feel they went through the same universal human experience and they each had vivid internal lives and memories. Wild.

soracities

ok this is next level and i honestly…i honestly can’t

kneesntoess

during my prehistory module we got given Roman pottery and roofing slabs that had thumb prints in the handles and I put my thumb over those thumb marks and cried in the middle of the tutorial

white-aster

I do pottery, and it’s one of my favorite things about the medium: that you can often see the shape of someone’s fingers in the surface. I love it when someone just shoves a finger somewhere while throwing, and leaves it there as a place for YOU to put your finger. Little thumbrests on top of mug handles is a fave. “How did you make those ridges like that on the outside? How did you make that spiral on the bottom?” “With my fingers.”

allsortsoflicorice

All of this.

At Wells Cathedral in England the stairs down from the chapter house have had dips worn into their stone by centuries of human feet taking the most direct route up and down.

Thinking about the immense distances between the stars makes me panic, but looking back into human history gives me peace.

kendrixtermina

Reminds me of when we got to see this exposition on ancient egypt.

I was like, “Wow a real life papyrus!”

but then my mom said, clearly moved, “Wow, that’s someone’s handwriting.”

peaceheather

Part of why I love medieval calligraphy so much is that my sources are these centuries old manuscripts that have… doodles in the margins, and scribbles where they tested their pens and ink, notes at the end and in the margins complaining about the temperature or their work materials or thanking god that they’ve finished. There are surviving artifacts with cat paw prints across the page where some pet got into the ink, and there’s even one with a pee stain on it followed by a long note explaining why nothing of importance is written on that page and a reminder not to leave your books out at night.

They were made by people, and I love feeling connected to those people by what I do.

colorschanging

The one that gets me every time is this bowl:

I want to know what the person who was making it was thinking, so badly. Maybe it was all done very seriously. But maybe they were giggling, as they said to themselves, “But what if I put feet? FEET ON THE BOWL!” Were they giggling at the idea? Did it make them happy, every time they shaped those little toes? If they were having a bad day, did they make a foot bowl, to cheer themselves up?

Did they ever consider that, some 6000 years later, someone would look at their foot bowls, and smile every time, and wonder about the person who made them?

#and THIS is why life has a meaning no matter what #woah

soracities

the number of times i think about the full body viking skeleton i saw in the museum is ridiculous like when i say it haunts me i mean it actually haunts me

soracities

every time i remember the questions are endless — what was his name? what did his mother call him? what sounds did he wake up to? what sounds did he die to? how old was he when he died? how old when he fell in love? how old when he first fell out? who cried with him and laughed with him? who cried for him? how many miles of separation can i draw between my ancestors and him? was he kind, serious, jokey? was he sombre or impulsive? was he chatty and good-humoured or a cantankerous asshole? like…i have never stopped thinking about this.

soracities

the fact that at one point in time this was a living breathing person. with memories and petty hates and the dumbest jokes. and friends he loved. and the fact that he probably at some point burst out into drunken song or punched someone in an argument or GOT punched in an argument or tripped into the mud while his friends pissed themselves laughing or or or or…countless or‘s into infinity

and the fact that before all of that this massive skeleton was tiny toddler (was he scared of the dark? did he squabble with his siblings? did he have siblings?) who may or may not have hid behind his mother or probably got hoisted onto an adult’s shoulders and in his little mind thought this person was the strongest human in the world and that he could hold the whole sky up just by standing there like that and as long as he was up there he was king of the world or could be.

like…what am i supposed to do with this? what does ANYONE do with this? how are you supposed to cope with the enormity of this while at the same time realising just how tiny and fleeting our lives are? there is literally more than a THOUSAND years between us & ALL of it has been pinched down to a glass case not even 2 inches thick like…i’m losing my mind.

gummywormy

I got this feeling when I saw some petroglyphs on the side of a cliff like.. a human made those. That human felt all of the emotions I feel they went through the same universal human experience and they each had vivid internal lives and memories. Wild.

soracities

ok this is next level and i honestly…i honestly can’t

kneesntoess

during my prehistory module we got given Roman pottery and roofing slabs that had thumb prints in the handles and I put my thumb over those thumb marks and cried in the middle of the tutorial

white-aster

I do pottery, and it’s one of my favorite things about the medium: that you can often see the shape of someone’s fingers in the surface. I love it when someone just shoves a finger somewhere while throwing, and leaves it there as a place for YOU to put your finger. Little thumbrests on top of mug handles is a fave. “How did you make those ridges like that on the outside? How did you make that spiral on the bottom?” “With my fingers.”

allsortsoflicorice

All of this.

At Wells Cathedral in England the stairs down from the chapter house have had dips worn into their stone by centuries of human feet taking the most direct route up and down.

Thinking about the immense distances between the stars makes me panic, but looking back into human history gives me peace.

kendrixtermina

Reminds me of when we got to see this exposition on ancient egypt.

I was like, “Wow a real life papyrus!”

but then my mom said, clearly moved, “Wow, that’s someone’s handwriting.”

peaceheather

Part of why I love medieval calligraphy so much is that my sources are these centuries old manuscripts that have… doodles in the margins, and scribbles where they tested their pens and ink, notes at the end and in the margins complaining about the temperature or their work materials or thanking god that they’ve finished. There are surviving artifacts with cat paw prints across the page where some pet got into the ink, and there’s even one with a pee stain on it followed by a long note explaining why nothing of importance is written on that page and a reminder not to leave your books out at night.

They were made by people, and I love feeling connected to those people by what I do.

colorschanging

The one that gets me every time is this bowl:

I want to know what the person who was making it was thinking, so badly. Maybe it was all done very seriously. But maybe they were giggling, as they said to themselves, “But what if I put feet? FEET ON THE BOWL!” Were they giggling at the idea? Did it make them happy, every time they shaped those little toes? If they were having a bad day, did they make a foot bowl, to cheer themselves up?

Did they ever consider that, some 6000 years later, someone would look at their foot bowls, and smile every time, and wonder about the person who made them?

#and THIS is why life has a meaning no matter what #woah