old gods are waking
I need everyone to stop what they're doing and freak out with me.
Do you understand how unbelievably amazing this is?!
So not a plant that hasn't been seen since that time period, just a very old seed. Still interesting though.
the curse of adhd:
this is something that I think a lot of people don't understand abt adhd. and like. this shit can get scary, especially if it happens often. I hate that I can't remember what I'm doing for the entire time it takes me to do it. I hate having to pause in the middle of conversations to desperately attempt to re-trace my train of thought because I don't remember what we're talking about. like. if you don't have adhd. just try to imagine what it's like to be unable to carry out a full conversation. try to imagine your memory resetting at random intervals. what are you doing right now? do you know? because often times, I fucking Forget. in the middle of doing things. and then I'm just standing there like an idiot desperately trying to wave away the thick fog that exists in my brain 24/7. and sometimes that shit just doesn't work. and I forget for good. it's terrifying. to me, at least.
As someone who occasionally goes through hundreds of terf blogs at a time to flag them on shinigami eyes and block them, just a heads up there's been a rising trend of terfs trying and divide (and conquer) the aspec community by calling some of us fakers or appropriators to asexuality and aromantism (especially targeting gray/demi people, always in the name of aro and ace people), and just a friendly reminder that 2016-2018 ace discourse was a recruitment tactic by terfs, and this is just the same exclusionist rhetoric as last time, once again on whichever group of people in the queer community they think they can get away with targeting this time. All aspecs are a part of the aspec community regardless of where on the spectrum they fall. Don't let them divide us. Stay safe out there
Accidentally sent 'happy prude month!!🎊🥰🥰' to my asexual friend and now im gonna dunk my head in cement to become unrecognizable
(if I missed any popular ones, apologies, I was just looking at the most common ones to have restaurants by skimming those in the area)
Question, are multiple ones going to open up near me? Some of these are at least a forty five minute drive currently.
i do think there is a degree to which certain kinds of Instagram activists have convinced themselves that traumatising themselves in solidarity is a useful form of activism. "I'm having nightmares and crying so much I want to be sick because of all these videos of dying children but I can't look away while people are getting hurt" I mean don't you think you'd be able to help more if you weren't having nightmares and crying all the time?? don't you think this is a one-way trip to burnout? don't you think maybe increasing the amount of trauma going around is counterproductive? I dunno bro there's something to be said for bearing witness but there comes a point where you gotta look hard at yourself and go "am I helping, or am I just making myself suffer so I don't feel guilty for not suffering while somebody else is experiencing bad shit"
I say "there is no such thing as a thought crime" a lot on my blog. Well, the other side of the coin is there is also no such thing as thought heroics, thought charity or thought activism.
So, there's apparently research coming out now about microplastics being found in people's bloodstreams and the possible negative effects of that and I feel the need to get out ahead of the wave of corporate sponsored "be sure to recycle your bottles!" or "ban glitter!" campaigns and remind everyone: It's fishing nets. It's fishing nets. It is overwhelming fishing nets It always has been fishing nets. Unless regulations are changed, it will continue to be fishing nets. The plastic in the ocean in largely discarded nets from industrial fishing. The microplastics are the result of these nets breaking down. The "trash islands" are also, you guessed it. Mostly fishing nets and other discarded fishing industry equipment. Do not allow them to continue to twist the story. Do not come after disabled people who require single use plastics. Do not come after people using glitter in art projects and makeup. These things make up a negligible amount of the issue compared to corporate waste, specifically in the fishing industry. Do not let them shift the blame to the individual so they can continue to destroy the planet and our bodies without regulation.
Industries are incredibly resistant to taking responsibility for their own waste, to the point where “consumers are responsible for industrial waste” is somehow considered a sensible, ethical, worthy sentence.
It is actually perfectly reasonable to say that “industries are responsible for industrial waste” and “the effects of industry can, should and must be fixed by industry” and “Industry can, should and must be held responsible for its impacts on the commons, such as air, water, oceans and land.”
It's not just fishing nets, but it's not glitter, either. Bon Appetit did an article a couple of years ago.
It's the plastic that's everywhere in food packaging. It's the plastic lining of your aluminium cans. It's the plastic in the lid seals of glass bottles and jars with metal lids. It's the plastic pouches for your instant soups and rice. It's the plastic water bottles we drink from. It's the takeaway containers we store our leftovers in. It's the plastic tea bags, and the tea bags that look like paper but which still have plastic encase embedded in the paper. It's the nanoplastics that are absorbed by plants and appear in our fresh fruits and vegetables.
It's an industrial reliance on plastic everywhere in our lives, and it's not something the consumer is responsible for, nor can we feasibly avoid it entirely.
And stopping disabled people from using plastic straws does absolutely nothing to stop the actual problem.
This thing drove past me in the airport. I have no words
Me either - this thing looks really useful compared to most airport wheelchairs! I have no words for how much of an improvement that device might be for those of us who need the airport courtesy chairs. :)
I sometimes won't use courtesy chairs, even though it means I'm in excruciating pain by the time I board, because I've been punished for not being a good little disabled girl. I didn't tip well enough? No ride to the bathroom. I didn't want to rate them five stars on their little tablet after they ran me into a wall? Good luck getting someone to come back for boarding.
I don't like being at the power of people so underpaid and ill-treated that they feel the need to take their vexations out on me, but I'm the soft target when I'm in their chair.
And if I say this shot right here is one of the greatest things I've ever seen in anything, ever? One of the best and most brilliant visual moments in the Jurassic franchise? In cartoons? In moving pictures as a whole?
Look, I firmly believe that anyone who still uses variations of "but Hamas" as a response to the daily horrifying documentation of this genocide is not saying it with conviction but rather as cover.
Because if it's about Hamas, then why is Israel preventing cancer patients from leaving Gaza for treatment?
If it's about Hamas, why is Israel preventing baby formula from entering the strip?
If it’s about Hamas, then why are children getting sniped in the head?
I can go on but that won't be necessary because it's abundantly clear that it’s not about Hamas, never been.
It’s imperative to understand that it’s not only us who know the answers to the above questions, but Zionists know them too, and they know we know that.
At this stage, and on day 256 of this acceleration of genocide, this so-called argument can only be viewed as a sick deflection to allow more war crimes to be committed against Palestinians, and absolutely nothing else.
An old woman will arrive at the station at 2:47 AM, she will not have enough money to pay the fare, let her in anyway. She will then board an unscheduled train at 3:00 AM. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TURN HER AWAY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
It was either a joke or some train executive's wife, that's what I thought when my manager gave me those specific instructions.
He proceeded to stress them again three more times during orientation. No biggie, I figured, and set a reminder on my phone for 2:45 just to be safe. Other than that I was just shown how to work the ticketing machine and where to find the spare D Batteries for the ancient flashlight they provided me with.
At 11:50 PM the last scheduled train departed. By 00:20 AM all the disembarked passengers had milled off. There was only one other person at the platform, a young homeless man missing a leg. Probably a veteran of one war or the other, there had been so many recently. He was sleeping on one of the benches. My manager had said I was to politely urge any passengers remaining after midnight to leave. He did not seem like a passenger so I let him sleep. It is how I was raised.
At 2:45 AM my alarm went off. I put aside my book, made sure my booth was tidy in case the executive's wife or mother or whoever would come was going to inspect it.
At 2:47 AM she was there.
I did not hear a car, nor approaching footsteps. The Babusia was simply there when she had not been before. A heavily wrinkled old woman, with a crooked nose and a scarf tied around her brittle-looking grey hair. A knobbly wooden walking stick was held by an equally knobbly left hand. She did not seem like the mother of some rich rail tycoon. She reminded me of my grandmother.
But I had never met my grandmother.
"One ticket, please." she requested in a firm voice, placing a small handful of coins on the counter without looking up at me. Most of the coins were obsolete Kopeks, and even counting those it was not enough for half a ticket, but as I was told before I nodded my head and accepted her money. "Of course. "
It suddenly occured to me that I was not told how to print a ticket for this unscheduled train. Before I could remark about it, I saw that the ticket was already at the mouth of the machine. It was green, with red lettering, something the black-and-white printer should not have made. But yet it did. The printing seemed in cyrillic of some sort, but I could not read it.
"Your ticket." I presented, and without thinking added "Do you require assistance to climb the platform stairs, grandmother?" It is how I was raised.
"Yes. Assist me." she replied curtly, beginning to shuffle slowly through the dark station towards the platform. I locked up my booth, and caught up with her just before the stairs. I switched on my heavy flashlight with my right hand, and offered the woman my right to brace herself. Her grip was strong. She probably would have had no issue climbing by herself, but assisting a grandmother was always the right thing to do, even when her sharp fingernails dug painfully into my palm.
We arrived at the platform. The clock hanging from the ceiling read 2:56. She released my hand and took a few steps, then looked at the sleeping man on the bench. "A friend of yours?" she asked. I thought about lying; if she was truly an executive's family, perhaps hosting a friend would be a lighter offense than turning a blind eye?
"No, grandmother." I responded truthfully. "He is not breaking the rules, so I left him alone." It is how I was raised.
The woman hummed. She seemed taller than before. Taller than me. The night draped her shoulders like a shaul and my torch did not reach it. Her gray hair shone like woven starlight, and her eyes were the night sky. I could not look away.
"You are a well-mannered girl." she said, her voice echoing in my ears like silence. She placed something small and hard in my hand.
A train arrived. It had only one car. I think it had a steam engine. It may have walked on chicken legs. I could not look at it.
The Grandmother boarded her train without another word. I was alone in a perfectly dull train station. Almost. The homeless woman behind me mumbled and stretched her legs in her sleep.
In my hand was a wrapped piece of hard candy.
collection of useful things tumblr has taught me:
even if you can't fall asleep, laying down with your eyes closed will still rest your body
you don't have to brush your teeth standing up
you don't have to do any chore standing up, from dishes to showering
you don't have to shower with the lights on
if you can't brush your teeth, flossing and a tongue scraper gets rid of plaque and bad breath
if you can't do that, mouthwash kills a lot of bacteria
eating "unhealthy" food is better than eating no food
you can make the same meal everyday for however long you still want it
some pills come in syrups or chewables if you can't swallow them
kids nutritional shakes can be a quick way to get fuel if you can't eat/don't have time
if walking hurts/exhausts you on a regular basis, canes and rollers are for you, no matter how young you are
we have free will—if doing something "out of the ordinary" makes life easier for you, do it
I am currently grabbing a bunch for myself
Reblogging here because my book in the sale has an autistic protagonist
I do think it's actually very funny that some transphobes get so lost in the Abigail Shrier Irreversible Damage sauce that they develop a knee jerk aversion to hysterectomies/oophorectomies on the grounds that some fertile young transmasc might have their reproductive organs yoinked that they just like. totally black out and stop caring that that's also life changing healthcare for countless cis women. was my mother part of the trans agenda when she got her uterus removed in her forties to stop her debilitatingly painful periods. were the doctors who repeatedly tried to convince a divorced middle aged woman with two grown children that she shouldn't do it in case she wanted to have a geriatric pregnancy someday actually just taking a brave stance against gender ideology.
a significant factor to understanding the political landscape of the United States is recognizing that many poor white people have been taught across generations to actively vote against things that would benefit them if those things would also benefit Black people, and I think the terfy set really whips themselves into a similar frenzy re: embracing medical misogyny and obstructed bodily autonomy for cis women as long as it might also wreck some hypothetical trans dude's day.
allegory
@d1mndnthr0ugh did i tag that right??? anyway proved it
the creation needs not understand the struggles of its creator to be a manifestation of those same troubles
I can clear this up: I thought it would be funnier to acknowledge the intended trans reading and then go for a complete curveball than to just confirm it. It's definitely actually meant as a trans allegory
Fun fact: Alex Jones doesn’t actually have kids. They are actors; they were hired to garner him sympathy in his case. There’s no need for his family to “survive” because there is no “family.” They don’t exist.
Even if he does have kids. Man can, I dunno. Get a job?
