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Reblogged kittyplayz1
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The trope where people don't recognize each other because it's been so long since they last interacted and they've both changed so much that they're basically strangers UNTIL one of them does their Signature Thing™ and the other just stops dead because oh. It's YOU. All at once it's so clearly you
This flavor of reblog to this post always makes me laugh so hard thank you
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if the us military won't lend movie studios military equipment unless the script is sufficiently us-military-propaganda-esque they should just ask to borrow other militaries' shit and then edit the US flag on it in post or something
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Yearning for someone who doesn't exist
Or giving a monkey a shower
Reblogged vyeoh
Sent a 12 year old on a fake Hero’s Journey last week and holy shit he actually did it
I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.
"Would you like to?"
"Sure!"
So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.
Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.
Reblogged zlixlriffs
I have so much shit back-threaded in this thing, you have no idea.
I have so much shit
back-threaded in this thing, you
have no idea.
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
Reblogged vyeoh
Who else up thinking about bjj black belt craig jones saying You can give anyone steroids. Despite our best efforts we are yet to give anyone autism.
There’s a guy at my gym we call Batman cause he’s batshit wild hyperfixated on good agility and muscle building maintenance and technique at all times. He does like five different martial arts and can do like one arm handstand push-ups and shit. It’s the wildest thing I’ve ever seen and he does it with zero drugs. If he wanted to fight crime he could. Autism with a fitness/martial arts special interest is absolutely a superpower