fragments of my world @icecadenza - Tumblr Blog

ahrima-deactivated20240728

executive dysfunction be like *wants to do something* *doesnt do it* *feels bad* *wants to do something* *doesnt do it* *feels bad* *wants to do something* *doesnt do it* *feels ba

o-v-e-r-w-h-e-l-m-e-d

I recently learnt that executive dysfunction can be broken down into two main categories: anxiety that your attempt won't be satisfactory, or confusion about where to start or how to break it down into steps. As much as we feel bad about it, it's extremely important to remember that it is NOT laziness and we in fact shouldn't feel bad.

ahrima-deactivated20240728

hey reblog this instead

pigmenting

something i wish i had realized earlier: you can write poems on the same subject more than once. you can write, paint, draw the same thing over and over if you want to. you can spend your whole life making art about oranges. i think i always felt this pressure to get it right the first time like i couldn’t go back and use that inspiration again. but you can. you can go back and revisit it. you can pick up the conversation again and again if you have more to say.

ghostlullabye

this one is for self

girlsclothes-deactivated2023030

what do people in their twentys do except go to the grocery store……….

what-grace-has-forgiveness

sometimes we lie in bed paralyzed by the knowledge that life is neither meaningful nor enjoyable

asgarddropout

and then we go get snacks

muaddibbler

The most impressive communal shitpost I’ve yet seen from a linguistics Facebook group

#linguistics

fuckthisbloganditscurses

Happiness Will Come To You.

12goblins

when tho

fuckthisbloganditscurses

When You Least Expect It. Probably Late March

wizardshark

reblog for happiness to come for you in late march!

zigxortega

zac--efren

I reblogged this last year and I hung out with blink-182 backstage on March 30. Reblogging again because it worked the first time.

scientiablr

honestly, last year one of the best days of my life happened in late March

duleypostnoted

the ides of march beckon

quotemadness

What is hardest to accept about the passage of time is that the people who once mattered the most to us wind up in parentheses.

John Irving (via quotemadness)

mysharona1987

The French always know how to expertly diss people, tho.

funeralpunk

shots fired

#cats

laffgaff

My job is to drill holes in things and then bolt them together.

At first it’s boring, but later on, it’s riveting.

teashoesandhair

So, my university does a lot of outreach Classics work, trying to make it less of an elitist subject and more accessible to children, and as part of that, I went to give a talk to a class of 6 and 7 year olds a few months back.

And here’s the thing. Classics is really often portrayed as the last bastion of academic privilege, a subject that is only taught to rich white kids so that they can brag about knowing Latin and get jobs as Tory MPs. But these kids were OBSESSED. They had already done some stuff on myths, and they were so excited to talk about it. They knew all the stories, all the heroes, the gods, the monsters. I have never seen such an excitable group of kids as these 6 year olds shouting about Odysseus.

For the lesson, I asked them to think of their favourite myth and to consider it from the point of view of the monster rather than the hero. The end goal was to show that often the monsters and heroes are quite similar. We decided to do Polyphemus (the Cyclops) in the Odyssey, and so I asked them why they thought Polyphemus might have been so angry at Odysseus that he killed some of his men.

Because he came home and found lots of strange men in his house, eating his food, said the kids.

So, I asked them, do you think that was a good reason to kill people?

No, they said, but he was very cross, and he didn’t do it because it was fun.

And then this KID, this SIX YEAR OLD CHILD, put her hand up and said “well, it was very bad of him, but if we’re cross with him then we have to be cross with Odysseus too, because when he came home from his adventure and found lots of men in his house, trying to marry his wife, he killed them, and that’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

AND LET ME TELL YOU

I am a published Classicist! A PhD student! And I have never made that connection before! Not once! And this child was six years old! And she made the link! By herself!

And so I tried not to show how gobsmacked I was, and we talked more about other monsters, including Medusa, and at the end of the lesson a lot of them said that they thought the monsters were not as evil as we usually think, and then I went home.

But I honestly haven’t got over how excited and engaged those kids were, in a totally regular primary school. Classics, in that classroom, was not elitist or inaccessible. It was something they understood, could really get their teeth into and use to think of new ideas of good and bad, of why we demonise different people for doing the same things. And that’s how I like to think about Classics. Not a series of dry texts in ancient languages, but as living stories that you actually can’t help but love, just a bit.

shitpostinguniverse

dredsina

That was ME you BITCH you blocked ME from signing in with my OWN PASSWORD

madqueensarah

Me, trying to get rid of anything that doesn’t spark joy: Ugh I’m such a dumbass I should throw myself away.

Marie materialising in my room: Yes, this negative attitude doesn’t bring you joy. You should thank it for getting you through your past traumas but you no longer need it or want it so it should go.

chaoticzindi-deactivated2019091

THIS IS BRILLIANT

hellenhighwater

Wait are we all ignoring that you apparently threw a shark once? Please tell us more!

My family likes to vacation in Topsail, North Carolina, which is a little barrier island mostly covered in vacation homes. We rent a huge house in their off season, when most people consider it too cold to be at the beach, and we, with our icewater blood, consider it quite pleasantly deserted.

I love going for walks at night, especially when there’s a clear sky, so I, age sixteen, would go a few miles up the beach around midnight most nights. One night, while still about a mile from our house, I saw something rolling in the surf.

“That’s either a plastic bag caught on a log,” I thought, “Or a four foot shark.”

I jogged over. It was not a plastic bag caught on a log.

The shark was moving and didn’t appear to be hurt, but was caught in water only an inch or so deep, being pushed higher with every wave. I was by myself, and didn’t own a cell phone, and couldn’t see a house with lights on in either direction. There was nobody around. Leaving to go get help would probably take long enough for him to suffocate. The best thing I could do for this shark, I figured, would be to get him back in the ocean.

I have no idea how he wound up so high on the beach, because it was a very shallow slope. I’d have to carry him a good fifteen or so feet to get him into water deep enough to swim. It was nearly a full moon, so I could sort of see what I was doing. I got a grip on the shark, careful not to squeeze too hard, in case he was hurt, and picked him up. He didn’t like that at all.

I started walking into the water. Here’s a thing I didn’t know about sharks: They’re pretty damn flexible. I got a couple steps with this shark, looked down, and realized there were a hell of a lot of teeth coming directly at my forearm.

It occurred to me that I had not thought this through very well.

I’m not proud of what I did. It seemed like the best way to get this shark back in deep enough water and avoid dropping thirty pounds of very bitey animal directly on my own toes. So.

I yote the shark with as much force as I could muster.

He curved through the air like a thing of beauty, all angry and toothsome in the moonlight, and splashed wonderfully into the deeper waters. I caught a glimpse of fin diving away shortly after.

And that’s the last I saw of him.