Shark Fighter @flannelsmash - Tumblr Blog

For everyone that’s having a bad day

#Banjo's response:#'oh no Hobbes that's not how you use stairs'#hobbular

Ok, so I am torn between two options.

One: I put this on the back burner for awhile and do a follow up vid with the remaining 1min 7seconds of Lacrymosa next year for Halloween and then be done with the project forever.

Two: I take what I have and re-purpose it Then I animate the remaining 1min7secs and make a trailer for a tile based strategy game called the Skeleton War (think Warcraft I meets chess.) Start working my ass off to finish it by next Halloween because I couldn’t code my way out of a soggy cardboard box(cuz pathing issues.) And finally give steam their blood money so I can pretend I’m cool or something.

I’m kinda leaning toward option two. However I would kind of like to know before hand if anyone would be interested in such a thing. As that will greatly effect whether or not I will finish this project.

flannelsmash

So James has been chugging away at this miniature monster all Create Week - and behold! His MIDI Mozart arrangement, his art, his animation, his editing...

When the man decides to learn a thing, he does not fuck around.

#halloween #skeleton war #spoopy #I would be terrible at this game but it would be very cool if it existed #also cool: this trailer for the skeleton war

acutelesbian

A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.

fat-thin-skinny

this fucks me up every single time

acutelesbian

I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.

After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.

She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.

Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.

The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.

The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.

Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.

I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.

conceitedtrash

This is so fucking important and I think it’s something I needed right now

flannelsmash

Things They Do Not Tell You When You Fall In Love (And Stay):

The knot between your shoulders that dissolves when you finally ask them about the birth of the worry you've been clasping to your chest, nursing without need That tears can be accompanied by hugs and unhurried conversations and realizations that see your spirit sink like a stone in the sea receive ice cream and kisses enough to restore buoyancy What was once shiny sharp bright enough to dazzle the eyes becomes the warm glow of amber smoothed by gentle touch And the armor of arms around you, forged by fire and sweat and art more comfortable than the softest sweaters and Sundays in bed When you look at their face you will no longer dream of what might be but see what you have already made together the possibilities an unexpected smile in the mirror too-early mornings and worry lines fade irrelevant in surprise and Your heart will catch in your chest all over again year after year

#for banjo #relationships #marriage #a poem I suppose #banjo-gk

In a sudden and confusing change of events, I am now both Flannel, Part Time Tech Support Honey Badger, and Flannel, Very Junior Web Developer.

Huh.

#I have to buy nice pants that fit #and learn PHP and MySQL #but they decided I can do both those things and hired me anyway #still sort of at slow-blink levels of stunned

beeishappy

Thanks, Doc

peoplemask

ok I can stop posting shit about BTTF, because this is the only post today needs

#thanks doc #I plan to

pleatedjeans

@thepunningman

#oh my GOD #hello coffee welcome to my sinuses

officialcryptkeeper-blog

when jay z asks “whats 50 grand to a motherfucker like me can you please remind me?” i think to myself “…no more student debt… moved out… dream car…” jay z if 50 grand is nothing to a motherfucker like you feel free to send it to a motherfucker like me

#amen

marinatinginmyawesomeness-deact

Fun Story

Had my MRI Friday. This was the third one I’ve had, so I go in thinking “no big whoop.” But apparently this tube was slightly narrower than the ones I’ve been in before, so when they got my arms down by sides, secured, and slid me in, it turned out to be a VERY big whoop indeed.

Like full-blown panic attack whoop, or since I don’t have them, what I suspect one to be like. Tight chest, instant tears, get me out of here right now panic. The very awesome techs calmed me down & were able to reposition my arms in a less “freak me the fuck out” position and I was able to get through it. But the beginning was no kinds of fun.

Also, a little PRO TIP: If you’re inside an enclosed tube, and have freaked out earlier, stay focused. Don’t let your mind wander and think silly thoughts like, “If the power goes out, how do I get out of this thing?” or “If the Rapture happens and everyone disappears, how do I get out of this thing?” or “SERIOUSLY HOW DO I GET OUT OF THIS THING IF I HAD TO?!? DOES ANYONE HAVE LIAM NEESON’S PHONE NUMBER BECAUSE HE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN SAVE ME!!!”

You know…be cool.

flannelsmash

Thiiiiiiiis. (Sorry that happened dude, yikes!)

But seriously gentle peeps, if you’ve never had an MRI before and you’re getting one: Ask the techs for earplugs if they don’t offer (it can get pretty loud!), and once you’re in the tube, don’t open your eyes. Just don’t. Even if you’re pretty sure you’re not claustrophobic or anything, don’t. Just let your mind drift and pretend you’re in a scifi movie. Oh man, there’s robots! And lasers! Sweet!

#getting an MRI #had so many MRIs now #still not chill enough to open my eyes

banjo-gk

The army has amassed…

#he's become a lich just like he always wanted #gg banjo #halloween #skeleton war #spoopy #animated gif

person: why do you like mad max so much?

what i mean: there are no less than 14 women protagonists who all have agency and are narrators of their own stories and none of them exist as male wish fulfillment or as a side kick to a male character and they all have different personalities and purposes and their strengths and weaknesses are presented without making some statement about women being better or less than men but also they use their femininity in extremely powerful ways which demonstrates that women are different than men but no less valuable to the story and they are put on equal playing field with the men in the movie and are not sexualized or demeaned despite the fact that five of them are escaping sex slavery and the sexual violence against them is never shown and one of the messages of the movie is that even these women in positions of 'privilege' are still oppressed and are victims of male violence and entitlement which reminds me that another message of the movie is the destructive nature of toxic masculinity and even the good guys in the movie are not praised or unnecessarily affirmed by the women when they do good things but instead there is a sort of mutual trust and friendship built that is way more realistic and powerful and basically it passes every test associated with how women are treated in movies and also it's just a really damn good movie with amazing visuals and insane amounts of world building and beautiful cinematography and real messages about our world

what i say: there's a guy with a flame throwing guitar

#mad max #this damn movie

radiergummi-chant

I'm sorry to cut you off there, Dave.

Funny, but mostly painful.

I’ll try to watch out for the tone policing phenomenon in my office and call it out. I’ll also keep an eye out for cases where a woman hasn’t been saying anything (and doesn’t just look bored); I’ve already started explicitly inviting comment from female colleagues when they’re quiet, and it seems to have improved the intellectual honesty and productivity of our discussions.

Any more ideas?

flannelsmash

Make sure management is on board and double-checking themselves in how they handle reactions to perceived tone.

To snip out the Jennifer Lawrence quote from the beginning of the article:

“A few weeks ago at work I spoke my mind and gave my opinion in a clear and no-[BS] way; no aggression, just blunt. The man I was working with (actually, he was working for me) said, ‘Whoa! We’re all on the same team here!’ As if I was yelling at him. I was so shocked because nothing that I said was personal, offensive, or, to be honest, wrong. All I hear and see all day are men speaking their opinions, and I give mine in the same exact manner, and you would have thought I had said something offensive.”

That male coworker’s reaction is important: it’s defensive. This was something they felt they had to defend against.

A story:

Once, I ran a small staff of help desk personnel. I was very good at getting things fixed, at teaching college boys getting paid more than me how to set down their memorized list of computer parts for a moment and apply some goddamn critical thinking, and at somehow miraculously making both staff and patrons like the IT department. I also happened to have boobs. Our sysadmin had been there basically since the company was founded and, as far as he was concerned, was the untouchable lord of his domain. He made a networking change that should have gone in a maintenance window, and brought down connectivity for half the facility. After 20 minutes of consideration of his experiment, he put it back. I was never informed of what was going on, and had already scrambled the staff I had on hand to key locations (medical, front desk, switch closet serving the largest portion of the grounds impacted.)

We were all relieved when connectivity was restored, though staff wanted explanations my staff couldn’t give. An hour or so later, the sysadmin commented glibly on it to a member of the dev team while in the office, and I said the following:

“Excuse me, but could you please let support staff know next time you’re going to implement a change like that? It was during peak operating hours, and I’d like to prevent downtime, or at least know why it’s happening to prevent wasting tech time and to keep staff informed and things running smoothly.”

I was written up for verbal assault.

Let me write that out one more time, because it’s really easy to laugh at it until it sinks in, and I was THERE:

I was written up for verbal assault.

It didn’t matter that any of the staff in the pen that day could have told you I was polite, that I never once raised my voice or moved toward the sysadmin, or that I was right. The sysadmin told the head of the department that he “felt attacked," and I was kept in a room opposite my Very Disappointed Manager, staring at a long double-sided sheet of paper explaining that I was a bad, mean, lady with no manners until I signed it and accepted disciplinary action so I could go back to work. I was told I was lucky I hadn’t received a temporary suspension.

Me doing my job, with boobs attached, and communicating as though I expect the same consideration and respect as my cismale colleagues, should not have been threatening behavior. And yet. It’s an education issue for staff, especially in traditionally male-dominated fields, but it’s also a vigilance issue for the people managing that staff. Be prepared to address emotional responses that are disproportionate to the situation, employees locked into “I’m sorry”/passive/grovel patterns because not complying has gotten them bit before, and to do a lot of reassuring all around if you really want everyone on the team communicating as equals, not just being told they can.

#feminism #communication #work issues #women in STEM #I'm sorry but-itis

writingbox

A very useful demonstration of the importance of sentence length.

vorpalgirl

Took me years to figure this out on my own, so I’m sharing this beautifully-demonstrated advice with every other writer out there who hasn’t already arrived at the same conclusion. Short, simple sentences do have their place, even used repeatedly; but it has a very specific feel. Robotic, or child-like; limited – as if the thoughts they express are themselves constrained. The ebb and flow of sentence length is as important as the words you choose. Perhaps more so. So always keep it in mind. :)

#language #poetry #writing advice #take em for a ride kid

Ah, the joys of being sick as a dog and digging through google trying to find that old standby of a turmeric milk recipe, only to run into pages of bloggy white people’s “But now I’ve made it even HEALTHIER?! Cures GERD, autoimmune disease, AND autism! Just add [six amazon affiliate links].”

Fuck you, I just want to shove a bunch of turmeric and black pepper in my facehole and maybe feel less like shit for a while.

I’m Sick And Give No Fucks Haldi Ka Doodh:

Supplies: stove, saucepan, mug, milk*, turmeric powder, spoon. Optional: black pepper, ginger, cardamom, or just a well-loved jar of garam masala from the back of the spice cabinet, sweetener. Extra optional for the masochists in the house: powdered cayenne.

*(Note: totally works with almond milk, you just get less of the “everything is so mellow now” tryptophan sleepies. Godspeed.)

Process:

Fill your mug most of the way with milk! (Dang, that is sweet mug you might say. Go buy @dreaminpng‘s angry uterus mug, I say. I won’t make a penny but your life will be more awesome for it.)

Now that you’re sure you have enough milk for your mug and not more, pour that milk into the saucepan.

Sprinkle turmeric powder on top until everything is 70s yellow and you begin to have regrets (about 1tsp usually does it.)

Add a dash of black pepper, a couple more of garam masala, and a couple more than that of ginger if you really dig ginger. You’re sick, no one fucking cares about your spice ratios, just don’t make mud pies on your stove.

Make halfhearted attempts at stirring with the spoon, and then turn the heat on medium-high and watch it get way easier, just like how you need help with everything else in life right now. (Send money and kleenex, plz.)

Blink blearily and realize that the milk has begun to boil. Stir once, then turn off. If you wait too long, it will foam like mad and try to leap out at you in a wave of grotesque yellow revenge. Warning: turmeric stains ferociously, its vengeance is very real, everything you own will be yellow, do not trifle with turmeric.

Pour contents of saucepan into mug, feel smugly self satisfied.

Wow. That, uh. Sure is yellow.

Drop in some honey or brown sugar or fucking maple syrup or whatever you can get your paws on, to taste. Kinda earthy without, but if you dig this stuff solo go nuts.

Stir it one more time with the spoon and wonder if you’re really ready to do this to yourself.

Chug.

I’m still sick and I’m definitely still autistic, but now I’ve gotten some delicious calories in me and I feel slightly less like there’s an angry linebacker doing push-ups on my chest. I call that a success. Mmmm, turmeric milk.

#cold remedy #turmeric milk #flannel cooks