I have a very similar philosophical take as Descartes had, but instead of it being “I think therefor I am” it’s “my balls quake and my arms bleed so I must be human”

seen from Argentina

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Australia
seen from Russia
seen from Costa Rica
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
I have a very similar philosophical take as Descartes had, but instead of it being “I think therefor I am” it’s “my balls quake and my arms bleed so I must be human”
Dear tumblr I would LOVE to know what year bald eagles were juxtaposed with red tailed hawk cries in film/tv.
Things I am guessing: bald eagles were rare at one point, so it’s less likely to have footage of them calling, even in captivity; and RTHs being very common in captivity leading to the opposite.
It just slackens my jaw that even the very symbol of the country is altered in service of the symbol of “fierceness”, and tons of people don’t even know what they really sound like or that it’s a different bird’s call.
Book title idea: Myself & the search for the underwear I swear is still hidden somewhere in these bedsheets
7/5/12
Information cares not who I am; it simply is. I can never hold an idea in my grasp. It slips out of my hands as it is conjured, and then multiplies, ages, transforms. It belongs only to the universe. This is not something to be fought, but a realization to be embraced. What I contribute to the world, for better or worse, will exist without regard for my thoughts.
And Homestuck just made a Death of the Author* joke.
*Not a piece of literary criticism I subscribe to in the traditional sense; while I do firmly believe that there can exist meaning within a work that the author did not intend (subconsciously created, accidentally created, doesn't matter) and that once on the page an author's work is devoured by the masses (see: fanfiction, etc) on the other hand a work remains intrinsically the creation of the creator, the two inextricably bound together, the work completely influenced by the author's experiences. **
** As I am a filthy postmodernist, and thus skeptical of the notion that we can ever as humans be objective ***
*** OH SHIT TEAL'S DOING LITERARY CRITICISM RUN ****
**** Someday, I'm going to explain Postmodernism to you, Tumblr, and you will eventually realize... No, Tumblr. You are the Postmodernists.