sorry i act weird when i’m uncomfortable and also when i’m comfortable
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
we're not kids anymore.
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation

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if i look back, i am lost
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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@justaflyintooka
sorry i act weird when i’m uncomfortable and also when i’m comfortable
The lack of sound is… unsettling. It forces you to take in the absolute chaos for what it is.
every day i think about fives
Ya know I just saw someone draw the red soulmate string and now I can’t help but think about the Petrova line in a universe where people can see a red string between them and their soulmate(s?). Like to certain parts of humanity it would seem like a red string of fate between Venus and the Sun, meaning what happens is meant to happen, even if humanity dies. Eva Stratt would be an even more controversial figure for trying to “cut a cosmic line of fate” or something.
To add an extra layer, imagine soulmates can be strictly platonic, so even those who never feel romantic love can have a soulmate. Now, imagine an outcast from his peers, pre-Stratt, Dr. Ryland Grace who has whispers in his former academic circles about having a red string that goes to the stars. Grace refuses to talk about it with anyone, making him even more of an outcast. Stratt doesn’t give a shit, for all she cares Grace could have a red string with Pluto. So Dr. Grace with the rumored cosmic soulmate, works with Stratt to cut a cosmic red string. I imagine Grace eventually opens up to Stratt willingly about his string, admitting it does go off into the sky most of the time. He admits it was part of his thesis on non-water based life. He talks about how it makes him feel like a freak, but he can’t help but hope they’ll one day come to Earth so he can meet. Stratt is vague in responding but she’s well aware of the implications of Grace’s string. It all the more settles her decision to send Grace to the stars when things go wrong, even as he pleads not to and that he’s scared.
Because, if his soulmate is among the stars, maybe Grace will meet him before he dies. A small part of Stratt could even muse that maybe, just maybe, Grace wouldn’t die in space.
how could you like the colour yellow
see a therapist immediately
I actually used to hate it! Like, actually despise it! Yellow was too bright, too loud, discordant, unruly, and clashed with everything. Nothing like what I wanted in my life, nothing I wanted to be.
When I first moved away from home, everything I owned was black. Jet back. As black as I could get. Smooth, cool, sleek, discrete, calm, unassuming. Flexible, cohesive, agreeable black. Fashionable black.
I had a really, really bad time. Unrelated to the decor. It was my first year out of a toxic place I'd grown used to my whole life, my first year acknowledging a mental illness I'd believed to be normal, my first year fending for myself with very little money or sleep or companionship.
I'd grown up on instant white rice and unseasoned ground beef. One day I realized that everything I'd been raised on tasted like cardboard. While out on an assignment, I passed a tent with a woman selling spices, and bought myself some turmeric. I went home and tried making curry with it. It was so yellow.
Another time, my professor took us out to a modern art gallery. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but when we got there, the whole building had been painted bright sunshine yellow.
The artist's theme was "happiness".
What it is. How we make it. How to share it.
All bright, lovely yellow.
The house I grew up in was beige. The walls were white. The appliances were post 9/11 stainless steel. My job was to be quiet, compliant, presentable and agreeable.
Black goes with everything. Black is neutral. Black is quiet, reserved, elegant and mysterious.
Yellow is warm. Yellow does what it wants. Yellow tastes sweet and spicy and hot and cool, like a summer breeze, like sunflower petals, powdery like dust on a long dirt road and soothing like well-worn linen.
I still like the look of black. I like the look of most colors. But I like the way that Yellow makes me feel.
Do you understand?
Thank you. I hope everybody thinks this
“Because the truth is, tech doesn’t have an image problem. It doesn’t have a message problem. It has an intention problem. What’s wrong with the axe murderer who broke into my house is not that he hasn’t successfully persuaded me to buy into his narrative. What’s wrong is that he’s trying to kill me with an axe. Similarly, when you launch a product that’s designed to put millions of people out of work, block access to sources of verifiable truth, replace human creativity with slop, and lower the barriers to every sort of atrocity, the problem isn’t that you haven’t told the public a good story about those things. The problem is that you are trying to do them.”
— The 40 Most Rage-Inducing Problems in Tech
Since you don’t respect my opinion anyway, quit pestering me to fill out a survey after every single consumer experience. I keep wondering who looks at these surveys. Is the CEO sitting in his wood-paneled office, reading each individual response on an old-timey stock ticker? If so, you can keep doing this. If not, I rate this experience zero stars out of infinity.
[Image transcript: 29. Stop requiring me to have an X account to read the emergency updates that my government posts on X. I am in a hurricane. My house is in a swimming pool, and the swimming pool is in a tree. Emergency services are, for reasons I am not presently at leisure to explore, posting vital safety updates on X. When I try to read the relevant thread, the app tells me I can’t do it unless I create an account, something I would gladly do if a Kia Sorento were not flying at my face. I shall die peacefully here in my swimming-pool tree, knowing that at least I never had to talk to Grok.]
honey is the only food product that never spoils. there are pots of honey that are over five thousand years old and still completely edible
i also want to point out we know it tastes the same even after thousands of years b/c archaeologists who discovered two thousand year old honey tasted it. presumably right after they looked at each other and went “what the hell here goes nothing”
I’m pretty sure they also identify human remains by taste. Archaeologists are straight up freaks.
No, no no… you identify bone from rock or other substances by touching it to your tongue. If it sticks, it’s bone. The taste itself has nothing to do with it. And most archaeologists won’t lick human bones if they know they’re human.
…and I realize that doesn’t actually do much to prove archaeologists aren’t freaks.
mai nam is jane and wen i dig i fynde some roks both smol and big i put my tung upon the stone for science yes i lik the bone
I’m sitting with a bunch of archaeologists and we just laughed so hard we CRIED we’re getting tshirts with this on them
I will never ever get tired of seeing bredlik poems. It is really one of the seminal art forms of the century. I am not being sarcastic.
If I ever don’t reblog this, assume I’m dead and archaeologists are licking my bones.
"what's the worst thing you can do as an artist" is not "shade with black" or "not use references" or whatever the worst thing you can do as an artist is hate yourself. and that includes the person you used to be
"look at how bad my old art is" "this was so cringe" "it's embarrassing to look at this" what are you gaining here? belatedly being your own bully? is it more acceptable to hate a kid if it's the kid you used to be? shut the fuck up. be kind to yourself or don't say anything at all. people are really not laughing with you when you mock yourself and if they are maybe consider hanging out with nicer people. imo.
this also goes for having your personal blog tags be like "nobody cares (name)" or "shut up (name)" or whatever. why are you being mean to yourself. its not preventing other people from being mean to you just because you get the first shot in it just means you get shot twice. how is that better. how is any of that better
Had to do it
What if Mike was short for Micycle
every now and then theres a text post that gets stuck in my damn head. here it is. im never going to be free of micycle
What if bike was short for bichael
I’m not Christian, I don’t go to church anymore, and my pastor died, but when he was alive I’d sometimes go to his sermons and I remember one time he said “it feels good to hate, but we know that it isn’t allowed, so when we’re told that we’re allowed to hate someone we get so excited that we forget we’re supposed to love”, and if my humble atheist ass might borrow some church talk I’d like to perhaps submit that
Anyhow sometimes on the day to day I feel disgust or revulsion and I have to ask myself “is this a danger to anyone at all or am I just looking for something I’m allowed to hate” and a solid 98/100 times it’s the latter so once again thank you pastor D
Cronch
nut loaf
Bitch i thought that was rocks!
thats not bread that’s a core sample from a beach
That’s conk creat babey!!!!!!!!!!
I feel like a very important part of worldbuilding for any universe with a magic system is asking yourself ‘how would people use this to do crime?’
A character trait/dynamic that I'm endlessly compelled by is someone dealing with (or, like, failing to) being the child of people who were too busy being good people to have the time and attention to be good parents. This can be anywhere from 'was a public defender who gave a shit working 60 hour weeks with basically no vacations' to 'left their family behind to join the revolution/war effort and is now a universally beloved martyr-hero who saved/remade the world with their final breath' on the groundedness spectrum. The important thing is a viscerally felt but confused and ugly mess of longing, resentment, and guilt about feeling the resentment.
laser-free diet.
y'all need to hear about gerb.
gerb was my high school physics teacher. (gerb is short for mr. gerber.) when we were learning about radiation and whatnot, and we touched on radiation poisoning, gerb decided to tell us a story.
when gerb was in high school, he worked in a supermarket. a cashier. there was this one little old lady, mrs. cassopolis, who was a regular. mrs. cassopolis firmly believed that the lasers used to scan her food items would give her radiation poisoning. they tried to explain that’s not a thing. but old cass wouldn’t hear a word of it.
the employees had to punch in every. last. grocery. item. MANUALLY.
and this woman would buy cartfulls of food every week, like any good grandma trying to feed her five children and eighteen grandchildren every time they come for a Sunday visit. so pretty soon, the employees figured out a strategy to get her on her way and get on with their lives.
one or more employees would distract old cass while the cashier would scan all the items he could as fast as humanly possible while she wasn’t paying attention.
now this supermarket had a rewards program for its most efficient workers. the computer would track how quickly the cashiers scanned items, and how many total they scanned in one day, that kind of thing. so one day, gerb’s boss came to him and said “uh,”
“you scanned three hundred items in six minutes last Tuesday during your shift” and gerb says “i recall” “that’s about four times faster than anything i’ve ever seen” and gerb says “yea ok” “jeremy what happened?”
and gerb says
“i had to save a little old woman from placebo radiation”