squeak only when squoken to
i'm so sorry i squoke out of turn of course i believe in freedom of squeech
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

Origami Around
Show & Tell

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
noise dept.
Misplaced Lens Cap

No title available

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
trying on a metaphor

oozey mess

#extradirty
Jules of Nature
occasionally subtle
wallacepolsom
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosmic Funnies
hello vonnie

pixel skylines

Kaledo Art
seen from Italy

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Romania
seen from United States

seen from Japan
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Japan
seen from Germany

seen from Spain

seen from Malaysia

seen from Italy

seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Malaysia
@the-second-noelle
squeak only when squoken to
i'm so sorry i squoke out of turn of course i believe in freedom of squeech
my corner store guy is a 50 year old man who's my best friend in the world and recently he was like "you're too pretty to be single I have some nephews you should meet. very handsome!" and I was like "a niece might be more up my alley" and he just got more excited and said "ah even better! I was overselling my nephews but my nieces are very beautiful"
OP the tags!!
I'm doing my part!!
I feel like it really adds something to know that this coffee shop was right next to the state capitol building. There is a non-zero chance one of these lattes ended up in the senate chamber.
Congratulations, you've unlocked the secret nerd bonus! I actually ended up texting a friend who specializes in the early Roman empire for advice on designing this special.
Honey and almond are pretty self-explanatory, as honey and nuts both figured heavily in Roman desserts. Cinnamon, meanwhile, means dead rich guy. It was insanely expensive to obtain, and the wealthiest of Romans used it to scent funeral pyres, so that the smell of burning cinnamon would cover the scent of cremation.
actually as a woman I still think misandry makes you an unpleasant person and if you’re just out there saying shit like “all men should die” or “men’s mental health doesn’t matter” then you’re the type of person I want nothing to do with. also this is not what feminism is about btw, you’re not being a strong girl boss with this ideology, you’re just a bully
remember:
-the idea that women are less capable of abuse than men is an extension of the idea that women are weaker than men.
-the refusal to acknowledge men's mental health and emotions as valid things worthy of support comes from the idea that emotions are inherently feminine in nature and having them is, again, a sign of weakness.
-the treatment of men as generic and expendable and women as special contributes to the idea that women should have less representation because we already "have enough" and "don't need more" and we gotta "even the playing field" or some dumb shit, so any need or want for more attention, regardless of reason, is attributed to "pointless attention-seeking".
-all of this puts trans men in an even more uncomfortable position, because either they're made an exception (because they ~aren't really men~ you see) or they're viewed as self-hating misogynists because why else would you "choose" to be the Trash Gender (tm)?
all of these seemingly pro-women anti-men sentiments stem from beliefs produced and enforced by toxic masculinity; as such, misandry is often really just misogyny in disguise.
adding more onto this:
-the idea that men are inherently terrible only serves to excuse men for being terrible. because, hey, they can't help it, so why bother trying, right? part of holding men accountable for their awful actions is believing they can in fact be better.
-the reason "not all men" is so frustrating to hear is because it's often used in poor faith to derail much needed conversations about toxic masculinity and how it manifests, not because the phrase itself is untrue.
-continuing from the trans men thing, misandry can and does make it harder for trans men to come out, for fear of the aforementioned responses.
-yes, misandry can stem from trauma at the hands of a man. that's understandable, but trauma can reinforce a lot of prejudices, and we all have a responsibility to understand how we come to believe things and mind ourselves accordingly. that doesn't mean you need to hang around men all the time, nor does it mean you're wrong to feel the way you do about what men did to you - it just means recognizing the objective line between fact and feelings, and recognizing that you don't need to conflate the two to validate your feelings. "i am uncomfortable around men because of past experiences shared by a lot of women" is different from "men are all horrible irredeemable pieces of shit and need to die".
Okay just in case there's people on tumblr who were too little in 2016 to actually remember it yourself, I cannot stress enough that the clown sightings were a thing. That's not a bit that people just made up like pretending that people in camo are invisible. This is a real tweet from the time:
Images created solely using mathematical equations by mathematical artist Hamid Naderi Yaganeh
My stage career began when I was a little under two months old, when I took the spotlight as Baby Jesus in a Christmas pageant. I’m told that I did a wonderful job and slept calmly through the whole thing, which can only speak to my talents as an actress, because I was 1. the wrong gender 2. a colicky screaming demon of a baby and 3. about as far from divine as it’s possible for an allegedly-human child to be.
I continued to be actively involved in theater as a kid (and frequently played roles of various small animals, because I was tiny for my age). Around the age of ten, I was cast as the lead character in a musical about cowboys that I no longer remember the name of. It was my first real lead role, and I took it very, very seriously. And because I am myself, that means I maaaaybe went…a little overboard.
My character’s introduction was early in the play, accompanied by the crack of a bullwhip. This was more-or-less pre internet (or, at least, our director was not tech-savvy enough to find sound effects online) and we didn’t have a sound effect track for that noise. There were plans to acquire the appropriate sound effect before opening night, but I rapidly tired of making my entrance during rehearsals to the sound of someone yelling “BULLWHIP NOISE!”
This, I thought to myself, is a problem I can solve.
I learned early in life that it’s good to be friends with people who have skills; they always come in handy eventually. After rehearsals one day, I put on my cowboy boots and biked a couple miles over to my friend Grace’s house. I went down to their basement and knocked on her older brother’s door.
“Hello,” I said. “I need to learn how to use a bullwhip.”
“….Okay,” he said. It did not seem to occur to him that he might ask further questions about why I, a tiny horrible munchkin composed exclusively of rage and pointy elbows, needed to be weaponized any further. Clearly, I had come to the right person.
My friend’s older brother would have been an SCA nerd, if SCA was a thing where we were. Instead, he was one of those unsupervised 4H kids with weird hobbies, largely oriented around ancient forms of combat. He was somewhere in his late teens at this time, and he liked to make stuff. It was an urge I, even at age ten, could sympathize with. His name was Aron.
Aron got out his bullwhip (which I had noticed hanging on his wall on a prior visit, and had filed away mentally under a for future use tab) and we went to the backyard.
“Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron began, “Swinging the bullwhip.”
We rapidly discovered that since I was god’s tiniest, angriest creation, a full-size bullwhip was way too long for me to use. Aron’s shins suffered for my attempt.
“…Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron said, “Making a bullwhip.”
So we went back inside, found a tanned cowhide (that he just…had? I don’t remember if there was a reason for this.) and some razor blades, and I learned how to cut and braid a bullwhip. It took a few tries, and I wound up coming back for a while, because I kept getting frustrated with the bullwhip-braiding process and Aron kept distracting me with bait like: “Hey kid, wanna learn to make some chainmail?” and “Hey kid, wanna fletch some arrows?” and “Hey kid, wanna try doing horseback archery?”
Obviously the answer to these questions was “BOY, WOULD I EVER!” Some delays are necessary to the artistic process.
(At one point my mom asked me “Hellen, what are you doing over at Grace’s house all the time?” And I, perfectly innocent, said, “Making weapons!” and my mother, who never understood why I was like this, but accepted that a girl has needs and those needs occasionally involve stocking a personal armory, said “Okay! Have fun!”)
Soon, the bullwhip, size extra small, was finished. The lessons on actual bullwhip use commenced.
It should be noted that Aron was self-taught, and really had no idea what to do, so this was mostly an exercise in the two of us standing twenty feet apart and flailing wildly with our respective whips until snapping noises happened. And then we figured out what we’d done to make the snapping noises. And then we kept doing that. Extremely vigorously. So vigorously that at one point one of the bullwhips launched into the air and caught on a tree branch and we hand to drag the trampoline over so Aron could bounce me high enough to grab it. But we persisted!
Eventually we reached a point where we could line up pop cans on a fence rail and hit them off three times out of five.
Feeling extremely accomplished and like I finally understood method acting, I packed my bullwhip into my backpack for the next play rehearsal. Soon enough, it was time for me to make my entrance.
I leaped on stage in my cowboy boots and cracked the bullwhip as hard as I could, immediately launching into the song despite the fact that the sound of five feet of braided leather breaking sound barrier had startled the accompanist so badly she’d keysmashed on the piano.
The director shouted something she probably shouldn’t have shouted in a room full of small children, and then demanded, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!”
“I made it!” I declared proudly. “I’m a cowgirl! I can make my own bullwhip noise!”
“You…made it?”
“Yes! Because we needed a bullwhip sound effect. And bullwhips are where bullwhip sound effects come from!”
This was, of course, impeccable logic.
It is apparently difficult to argue with a gleeful ten year old who happens to be armed with a bullwhip longer than she is tall. After some negotiation, the director agreed that I could use my bullwhip for my opening song, provided that I didn’t pop it while anyone was anywhere near me on stage and I didn’t let anyone else play with it. These terms were acceptable to me.
Somehow, no one was injured and the play went off without a hitch. We can only chalk up these things to the magic of the theatre.
Nearly a decade later, an unsuspecting college classmate asked me, “Hellen, wanna take a class on bullwhip combat with me?”
And obviously I answered, “BOY, WOULD I EVER!”
the world is running out of glassblowers and yet you want to become a fucking doctor
One of the most jarring moments of my university education was in a physics class when I was given a device that measures gravity and was told “this cost the university sixteen thousand dollars, but the only glass blower in the world who could make the glass springs inside it died so it’s literally irreplaceable. If you drop it those springs will shatter. Go fuck around with it for a day and take some measurements”
In the UK there's a thing called the endangered crafts list which I highly recommend if you fancy discovering some crafts you never even knew existed. Scientific and optical instrument making is considered 'critically endangered' and glassworking (scientific glassware) is just considered endangered, which is for 'crafts with a shrinking market share, an ageing demographic or crafts with a declining number of practitioners.' There's some other crafts in that category which are easier to teach yourself or go to classes on that list, like lithography, marbling or block printing on fabric, so it might be worth considering those if you're looking for something to try.
people are sooooo judgemental when a thing that was pretending to be human peels off its face revealing itself to be some sort of creature or perhaps machine
“that’s so gross” “that’s horrifying” as if you would look any better with your face skin peeled off. get real
My mom and I have a thing I call woke college daughter where she'll say something like "men inherently require less work and drama in friendships" and I go "not to be your woke college daughter but perhaps rather than phrasing this in terms of biological essentialism we look at it from the point of view of men being socialized to avoid discussing their emotions which is not necessarily a good thing for either men or women" and by prefacing it with woke college daughter I am acknowledging that even if I'm right I know I'm being annoying about it. And it works.
POV: you are a very unfortunate baby dinosaur
POV: you are pencil shrapener
they should make a pill that makes people in their 20s feel good about where their lives are going
Impressive to me that no one said the same thing twice
bisexual knight: any knights at this tourney want to touch swords with me?
heterosexual knight: I wouldn’t have bothered saving that damsel from that dragon if I had known she was betrothed. Typical. 🙄
asexual knight: just braided my horsey’s mane, am now in search of apples for her.
gay knight: I must locate the Holy Grail. right now. I shan’t tarry, not even for m’lord, though I feel my heart may rend in two on our parting.
those are genuinely the 4 main personality types of Arthurian knights
As an adult I think me and all my friends should all have matching schedules and work like 20 hours a week and also everyone lives within 15 minutes of each other why is that so much to ask
going absolutely bonkers insane over these sesame street photoshoots
these are just functioning members of society. i love them so much. my babies.
schrödinger's flirting. i mean it as much as you do
@unpretty
it’s DIRT
unmute for comically aggrieved farmer
reblogging for the second time because I still laugh uncontrollably. in my mind the cows are trying to be gracious about their strange gift. ‘yes we love it thank u’
@diseonfire future?
I know I literally just reblogged this but I love this video so much it always makes me laugh because
1. “LADIES”
2. The very disappointed “Eclair…”
3. “WHAT?” (High pitched mooing in response)
4. The way they turn into Pleakley from Lilo and Stitch as they get progressively more frustrated