Show & Tell
occasionally subtle
Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
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ojovivo
sheepfilms
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
ellievsbear
Stranger Things
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
blake kathryn
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird
Monterey Bay Aquarium
trying on a metaphor
Cosmic Funnies
@theartofmadeline
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seen from Japan
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@howdoyousayavocado
It's stuck in my head, so here you go
[To the tune of Alanis Morissette's Head over Feet.]
You've already run me over, in spite of me,
Don't be surprised if I fall dead at your feet.
Don't be surprised if I haunt you for xall of time.
I couldn't stop you, it's all your fault.
Know what's fucked up?
When a kid is diagnosed with Autism or ADHD, and their parents are like "Oh, we're not going to tell them." The fuck? This kid has a brain that works differently, and you're not going to tell them? Is it going to magically make their brain change? No, it's going to fuck them up.
Imagine, little Bobby has a severe nut allergy, but his parents aren't going to tell him. Or Sue has asthma, but her parents don't want her to be different. "That's abusive, they need to know. " You think? Do you have any idea how much less frustrating my life would have been if I'd been taught, hey, your way of thinking is different from other people's. When someone says 'Yell this as loud as you can' they don't actually want you to yell as loud as you can, just kind of in the middle. Or, you're not actually supposed to hug people as tightly as possible, that's going to hurt them. But no, no one explained anything to me.
Hell, I went to a camp for kids with special needs, and I was told that I got to go because my brother went. Subtext: I wasn't like these kids, I was normal and they were oThEr. Growing up, autistic kids were the ones screaming and having a meltdown. Autistic kids couldn't go to "normal" school. Lots of fucked up stuff. Apparently, when you correct someone, that's seen as undermining them? No, I'm trying to help. Idk, but I really wish I'd been told.
Once upon a time
I was a young child. The adults in my life, mostly my mother and her mother, but others to an extent, had this thing they did. They would call me ma'am, and I hated it. (The signs were THERE.) I don't remember when it started, but I know it was happening when I was 4 or 5.
I would, as politely as a child could, ask them to please stop. They would keep doing it, and I would get progressively more frustrated. I recall screaming as loud as my tiny lungs would allow 'don't call me that!' and they laughed and did it again.
I don't know if it ever stopped, it must have at some point. I recently realized that this is probably where my inability to advocate for myself stems from.
Anywho, welcome to the place I'm going to write out various crap from my past, and potentially present.
CAFFEINE
About a year ago, I stopped consuming caffeine. It sucked, but I got through the withdrawal headaches and tiredness.
I just quit. Or, rather, I started again. I wasn't healthier, my drink choices varied from water to highly sugared caffeine free beverages. I sure wasn't happier, less even from denying myself small joys.
Even when I wasn't drinking it, caffeine dominated my life. Keeping track of how much and when I did have a coffee, to keep from getting hooked again. So many things have hidden caffeine, and you don't realize until you're looking for it. Being a crazy person at the restaurant asking what kind of root beer they had. (Barqs has caffeine, Mug does not.) Accidentally drinking the wrong soda later in the day and taking so much melatonin to try to get a tiny bit of sleep.
So I'm done. I made it a year, I could go longer if I wanted to but I don't.
Once upon a time...
I "worked" at Vector marketing. My supervisor and I were at a college littering the campus with recruitment stuff, and we had a phone meeting. So we sit down and get on the meeting, and I pull out my phone to take notes. He looks over at me and says, in the most condescending tone, "what ARE you doing?" We were expected to take notes during these bullshit phone calls.
Here's a fun idea for business owners
If you don't want your staff to unionize, pay them well and don't treat them like shit.
Once upon a time, I used to have a voice. Now I never make a sound.
i love in fantasy when its like “king galamir the mighty golden eagle and his most trusted advisor who would never betray him, gruelworm bloodeye the treacherous”
When my sister and I were kids we had this one action figure, who was actually a brutalized batman doll without his cape (the dog chewed half his head, too), who we dubbed ‘Evil Chancellor Traytor’. The idea was that in the fictional society of our toys, ‘chancellor’ just came with the word ‘evil’ in front of it, as a matter of ancient tradition. Like ‘grand’ or ‘high’ or something along those lines.
Anyway, the running gag was that the king (an old Power Rangers knock-off doll) had absolute and unwavering faith in Evil Chancellor Traytor, who basically comported himself like a mix between Grima Wormtongue and Jafar from the Aladdin movies. Everyone was always sure that Evil Chancellor Traytor had something to do with the nefarious scheme of the day. The dude even carried around a poisoned knife called ‘the kingslayer’.
The additional twist on the joke, though, was that he never was behind anything. The king was actually right. Evil Chancellor Traytor was the most devoted civil servant in the entire Action Figure Dystopia. He spent his nights working on writing up new legislature to ensure that broken toys had access to mobility devices, was always on the lookout to acquire new shoeboxes for expanding city infrastructure, and drafted a proposal that once got half the ‘settlement’ in my sister and I’s closet moved to the upper shelf so that vulnerable toys were less likely to be snatched up by the dog.
The knife, as it turned out, was as symbolic as the ‘evil’ in his name. See, Action Figure Dystopia had a long history of corrupted monarchs getting too big for their thrones and exploiting the underclasses. The job of the Evil Chancellor was to always remain vigilant, and loyally serve a good ruler - or, if the regent should became a despot, to slay them on behalf of the people.
But since killing the king would be a terrible crime, the Evil Chancellor had to be the kind of person who would willingly die to spare the people from the plight of a wicked leader; because the murder would be pinned on them, in order to keep the ‘machinery of politics’ working as smoothly as ever.
Anyway, Evil Chancellor Traytor had a diary, in which my sister I would take turns writing out the most over-the-top good shit he’d done behind the scenes. Usually after everyone else had finished talking shit about him. I don’t know why but we got the biggest kick out of being like:
Barbie With the Unfortunate Haircut: Oh that Evil Chancellor Traytor! Why can’t the king see how wicked he is?!
Charmander From the Vending Machine: Char!
Jurassic Park Toy of Jeff Goldblum With Disturbingly Realistic Face: At least if someone puts a knife in the king’s back, we’ll know where to look!
Evil Chancellor Traytor’s Diary: Today I was feeding ducks at the park when I noticed another legless action figure sitting by the benches. I put a hundred dollars into his bag while he wasn’t looking. I really need to increase budgeting to the medical treatment centers. If only we had enough glue, I think we would see far fewer toys trying to get by without limbs… *insert iconic evil laugh*
Anyway, Evil Chancellor Traytor eventually fell victim to one of my mom’s cleaning sprees, and she decided he was too busted up to keep and tossed him out. My littler brother, who tended to follow my sister and I’s games like he was watching a daily soap opera, cried so hard that we had to do a special ‘episode’ where one of the toys found the Evil Chancellor’s diary, and so he got a big huge memorial and the king threw himself into the empty grave and then ordered the toys driving the toy bulldozer to bury him so that ‘Traytor’s grave would have a body’ (this seemed very important for some reason).
And then we had the Quest For a New King. Somehow or another that ended up being a giant rubber snake called ‘Tyrant King Cobra’.
::closes tab, shuts off computer, and proceeds to have the best day ever just by knowing this exists::
i will always reblog Evil Chancellor Traytor
It's always
"When will fanfic writers update their stories?"
And never
"Does this fanfic writer have adequate enrichment to engage in writing behaviours?"
Fanfiction writers (Scriptor fictus) are intelligent animals who need plenty of enrichment as well as encouragement! If they're stuck in poor conditions (e.g. have studies, work, have to actually write to have something written) then they require the proper enrichment to engage in more healthy behaviours, like writing. Remember, due to poor breeding and socialisation, over half of all fanfic writers suffer from low self confidence and executive dysfunction so take care of them!
Give your fanfic writers proper care. Fanfiction writers are a life long commitment.
Marcus stopped abruptly in the middle of the grass. A woman in a blue dress was already sitting on the Crisis Bench. He didn’t recognize the dress. She looked up from where she was sitting.
“Sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t think anyone would be over here.” He didn’t think he remembered an introduction to anyone in that dress. It was a memorable sort of a dress. “I believe I ran into your mother inside?” he ventured, because he ran into so many mothers.
“She’s not here,” she said, which was not what he wanted to hear and which he absolutely could not handle at the moment.
“Right,” he said, trying to recover, pretending as if he’d just remembered something. “Your father–”
“We haven’t met,” she interrupted. “I’m not anyone.”
“Oh thank god,” he said, abandoning propriety to collapse onto the bench, dropping his head between his knees. “Thank you.”
“Too many people?” she said sympathetically.
“I’m really bad with faces,” he admitted.
“A lot of people are,” she assured him.
He dragged his hands down his face. “I just confused a Duke with a waiter.”
She bit her lip. “As long as you aren’t rude to waiters, you should be fine,” she said.
“I wasn’t rude,” he said. “I’m never rude. It would have been better if I was rude.” He buried his face in his hands. “I tipped him,” he said, anguished, muffled by his palms. Why had he been dressed like a waiter?
She burst out laughing, loud and with her head tipped back, overwhelming the empty garden. He separated his fingers to stare at her.
“Sorry,” she hiccuped, which immediately descended back into snorts. She laughed like she was hunting for truffles.
“Thanks,” he said, though he almost did feel better. “I’m feeling very supported in my time of need.”
“There’s only one thing you can do,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, trying to dab at them to not destroy her makeup. Reflexively, he offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted. “You have to flee the country. It’s the only way.” She checked the handkerchief for signs of smeared eyeliner. “Leave your family. Change your name. Get a new family. Never tell them your dark secret.”
“I think my old family might notice if I got a new family,” he said, now resting his chin in his hands, elbows balanced on his knees.
“That’s why you have to burn your house down,” she said matter-of-factly, now holding his handkerchief in a neat fold in her lap. “Just burn the whole thing. Everything but your favorite hat. You leave the hat on top of the ashes for your family to find. ‘This must be him’ they’ll say. 'He would never have left his favorite hat’. It’s the perfect crime. Once it’s done, you become a pig farmer. Anyone comes around asking questions, you feed them to the pigs.”
“You seem like you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he observed. “How are your pigs?”
She looked him over sidelong. “Hungry,” she said primly.
I FOUND IT!!!!!!!!
Help
I know this is a long shot, but I read a short story about Cinderella and prince charming having a conversation about being face blind. Anyone happen to have it saved somewhere?
What are your thoughts on gender neutral parenting?
This is the question I have next up. I have 30 minutes before I need to be on the Farm making kettle korn after a long, hot day yesterday of landscaping for a little side money. So here is goes My parents raised me in a sort of gender neutral way.. without awareness of it. This we the late 60's and early 70's. I still was praised for being "pretty in a dress" and told to smile because "I have such a pretty one". My mom wanted me to get perms and she always, always said when I was leaving to go anywhere, "don't be loud." (As a youngster I was very loud and outgoing. I tamed a bit as I got older, pretended I was shy so I didn't have to hide being a lesbian so hard.. just stay in the background.) But they also encouraged me to play with whatever I loved, to run around out side “GO OUTSIDE!!”, to be very independent, often riding my horses for hours without contact. They gave me chores from helping in the kitchen to cleaning the garage. They didn’t quell my passion for being rough and tumble AT HOME... in public mom tried a little harder to get me to settle and be more passive. They mostly let me dress in what I wanted except for fancy occasions like weddings and out to dinner with Uncle Jerry from Chicago. They did not force gendered things on me all the time for two main reasons. My sister (who is straight) was very independent and head strong. She did what she wanted and they figured I would too. AND my siblings were 17, 20 and 23 years OLDER than me. They were tired. They were over it. So they didn’t fight me on what I liked. (And dad was HAPPY to have help on the acreage since they moved there on my behalf to get horses and let me be more wild). When I told my mom, at 12, I wanted to be a boy she told me I did not (colorful description of why not... and not flattering to the male body) then said "what do you really want". I wanted to do what boys did. So she said "do it.. talk to your father". I did. He had been bypassing me in favor of the neighbor boys on manual labor since I was 9. He thought I was not interested. From then on, chainsaw, mowing, (not just the easy parts) hay, oil changes, and such. When he was dying he told me to take his belt, "good leather last you a life time and you pass it to your kids" and he made sure I got his "wedding suit". A brown 1970's 3 piece JC Penny suit that he wore for every "suit" occasion since he retired in the late 80's. He said I would look good in it. Mom was way more into making sure I followed the rules of my sex and the gender society applied to that. She was concerned I would not fit in, would have a hard time, or be bullied for not conforming to the expectations of females. Women=feminine. Which is odd considering she played softball, was known to be very bold and outspoken (there are stories worth telling there). She bowled, always worked full time and managed the financials of the house. She shared cooking with dad. Her worry came from a mom knowing her kid was different and if she could lesson that "oddity" she could protect me. OF course.. a butch in a dress is still a butch and everyone who can see knows it. So gender neutral parenting. It is a great theory. It should be a thing. When I say gender I mean the set of stereotypes and societal expectations placed on us because of our sex. The engrained response to gender is little girls get pink and teddy bears and little boys get blue and trucks. Most parents don't even realize (there have been studies) that they do it. They tell a little girl in boys clothes "you are so strong and tough" and a little boy in a dress "aren't you just precious and pretty... boys will love you". They are using visually gendered clues to determine the sex and therefore the gender and ROLES this child is supposed to abide by. Not just abide by but thrive on. Praise for following the rules. And kids figure that out very quickly. Little girls stop trying "hard or dirty" tasks and little boys stop being tender with a doll or each other because they don't earn praise for those behaviors. Unfortunately no matter how perfectly neutral a parent (or family) is the world exists. Day care, the park, grandparents, cousins and on and on also affect this child's view of themselves in the world. Gender Neutral purity can be dangerous. You child will get into the real world and be hit with reality. We are expected to follow certain rules based on our sex and not doing so can cause issues at school, jobs, summer camps etc if that child does not have an idea about what is happening. Gender awareness parenting is much more important once the child is past the stage of being only with mom and dad. Actively speaking to your son about the benefits of dolls (sesame street has a short clip about this and IT IS STILL amazing). Speaking to your daughter about what she loves and encouraging that. If a little girl loves pink and dolls GO FOR IT> Parenting is NOT and never should be a political statement. DO NOT use your chld to prove your wokeness on gender. If your little boy likes motorcycles and buzz cuts don’t make him grow long hair and ride a pink bike because “color is not gendered” Kids should be encouraged to love and pursue what they love not what their parents want or think they shouldwant in order to make a statement. I am going to repeat that. Kids should never be a statement of their parent’s political wokeness. Kids are people.. they deserve to love what they are passionate about. THAT Is the core idea behind gender neutral parenting. You can’t send your kid, unarmed and unaware in to a world still very flush with gendered jobs, clothes, actions, hobbies etc based on their sex and expect them to just blindly power through. Actively educating kids to understand gender expectations and empowering them to do as they please is parenting at it’s finest. A child kept in the dark about the reality of the bad effects gender roles has on each one of us can be dangerous. They need to be actively involved in making decisions to keep themselves safe, to understand why gender exists and to let them choose when and where to push back.
A dating service where matching is based on people’s search history exists. You’re a serial killer. You go on a date with a writer.
Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill someone, how would you do it?
Writer: Air shot between the toes, it’ll look like a heart attack.
Serial Killer who is obviously in love already: *sucks in a breath* ok
Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts
Serial killer: anywhere from 2 to 30 minutes
Writer, already bringing a ring out: *shaking* thanks
A++ addition
Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene they’re writing* babe, i’m not sure if this would actually work?
Serial killer: *kisses writer on the forehead and leaves, comes back later, a suspicious scent of blood coming off them* it works baby, you’re doing great
I LOVE THIS
Oh no, murder comedy is my jam
I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? It’d be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gullible, and on top of it they’re a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so it’s completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work.
Now fast forward a bit and the author has managed to get their first book published, with loving support from the serial killer who helped them fine tune all the murder scenes, and it’s a big hit. Enough so that a detective with the local police department has noticed some disturbing similarities to several active cases, including details that were never released to the press. Obviously he brings this up to his superior and convinces him that there’s something to the theory, but it’s all circumstantial right now. He stakes out the author’s home and is super convinced that the author is the murderer, but they don’t seem to do anything??? Like they literally are at the house all day, that’s it. Most they do is leave for groceries.
So you get this dynamic of the serial killer mining the author for creative murder schemes, the author being lovingly encouraged by the serial killer, and finally the detective who is just so sure that the author is the killer and that if he sticks it out long enough he’ll FINALLY have proof.
Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go out so it gets sub what personal.
“You need to stop seeing them. I think they are a serial killer.”
Serial killer breaths in. “Look-”
…perfect
I don’t like actual murder mysteries, but this is perfect
THE ORIGINAL POST HOW DID I GET SO LUCKY
Oh my god I would watch/read the hell out of this shit
i made pride lothcat stickers!
get em here!
There’s something off with this Mew…
TODAY ON TERRIBLE TEXTBOOK FINDS
SOMEONE PLEASE BUY THIS OFF ME I THINK IVE BROEKN MY HAND
Speaking of unfortunate acronyms, the one for some new program we’re doing at work is HPV
I cannot remember what the V stands for… Haystack Procedure something or other (haystack being our company name)
Universal Workers Union (UWU)
I just remembered a Real british one that is even better. National Union of Teachers:
Or NUT.
OH MY GOD
every library in our consortium is assigned a three letter callsign to be used across various different systems and services the consortium provides, such as track books, staff e-mail, etc. our library is assigned CUM
no one will say it out loud
oh its been a WHILE since ive seen this thread
there’s a shipping company called Specialized Transportation, Inc., and I think they just acknowledged and embraced this given that I have driven by many trucks on the highway emblazoned with “STI DELIVERS”
everytime i come back to it this thing gains a few more gems
