Such refined. Many dignity. Meow.
- Palestine should be wholeheartedly defended.
- This defence should never incorporate or accept anti-Semitism.
Calm a llama down x
I may have taught this spider to knit.
I was finishing the last 20 rows at the park, when this little spider wandered over to me, It climbed up my knitting bag, and walked all up and down the piece, then climbed onto my hand and watched me for a couple rows.
After the second row it started waving it’s front four legs as if to get my attention. Once I was looking at it, it started pulling silk from its spinneret, and fiddling with it. I don’t know if it was knitting or purling as it was quite small scale, but every few seconds it would stop and look up at me to see if I was still watching. After a little bit I moved it to one of the vines overhanging the archway I was sitting in, and it went about its business.
This wasn’t the only unusual thing that happened at the park today, but it was the most unusual.
Maybe it thought you were a spider
I’m gonna level with you that’s the fucking cutest shit I have ever fucking heard of okay I want a little spider that knits not sits menacingly above my bed at night threatening to fall into my mouth.
Average spider knits an average of 8 items in her lifetime
those moments when straight people assume you’re one of them and you feel like a gay secret agent
Oh my god it’s a mirage
Supposedly invented by the Chinese, there is an ancient form of torture that is nothing more than cold, tiny drops falling upon a person’s forehead.
On its own, a single drop is nothing. It falls upon the brow making a tiny splash. It doesn’t hurt. No real harm comes from it.
In multitudes, the drops are still fairly harmless. Other than a damp forehead, there really is no cause for concern.
The key to the torture is being restrained. You cannot move. You must feel each drop. You have lost all control over stopping these drops of water from splashing on your forehead.
It still doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. But person after person, time and time again—would completely unravel psychologically. They all had a breaking point where each drop turned into a horror. Building and building until all sense of sanity was completely lost.
"It was just a joke, quit being so sensitive."
"They used the wrong pronoun, big deal."
"So your parents don’t understand, it could be worse."
Day after day. Drop after drop. It builds up. A single instance on its own is no big deal. A few drops, not a problem. But when you are restrained, when you cannot escape the drops, when it is unending—these drops can be agony.
People aren’t sensitive because they can’t take a joke. Because they can’t take being misgendered one time. Because they lack a thick skin.
People are sensitive because the drops are unending and they have no escape from them.
You are only seeing the tiny, harmless, single drop hitting these so-called “sensitive” people. You are failing to see the thousands of drops endured before that. You are failing to see the restraints that make them inescapable.
My 7 year old son was shot down by his 1st grade teacher
The american public education system in a nutshell tho
My third grade teacher actually had a conversation with my mom that I was reading to well and told her to stop having me read at home
My first grade teacher said that it was problematic that I was reading ahead of the rest of the kids in my grade and asked my parents to stop letting me read Harry Potter.
My fourth grade teacher thought it was wrong for my dad to be teaching me complex math because it fascinated me.
My elementary school music teacher hated the way my piano teacher taught me, and how I was more advanced than many of her students, and so told me, in front of my peers and my mother, that I was not good enough to participate in the state solo festival. She would not give me the form. We had to procure it from the district instead. She also hated how I excelled at reading and playing music for the recorder, and so she refused to give me my “belts” (colored beads to signify our level) and humiliated me in front of the class repeatedly.
My eighth grade algebra teacher used to fail me on take home tests because I didn’t solve problems exactly the way she showed us in class; I used methods that we had learned for other types of problems that also applied to these. She took points off my tests because I didn’t bring a calculator even though I got 100% without it, because I was able to do it by hand. I had to call my father, who is an engineer, down to the school to shout her down and give me back my A in the class.
My 10th grade Spanish teacher yelled at me in front of the class numerous times because she didn’t like the way I took notes; she thought that since I didn’t write every word off the slide, I wasn’t getting it all down. I had to explain to her that people who have taken advanced courses, like AP or IB classes, know that in a fast-paced learning environment you need to take quick shorthand notes that contain the necessary information rather than wasting time writing every word. She almost gave me detention.
My 11th grade English teacher gave me a poor mark on my first short essay because she believed that I was looking up unnecessarily complex words in a thesaurus to try and get better marks. The phrases in question: “laced with expletives” and “bombarded”. She wouldn’t hear any defense from me.
My 11th grade history teacher failed me on an essay about the 1950s because I misread the prompt. Except the prompt wasn’t words; it was a political cartoon. One of the figures was clearly president Eisenhower, but the other I couldn’t place. My teacher would not tell us who it was. I labelled him as the governor of Little Rock Arkansas during the integration period, and wrote an essay about that subject. My teacher said that no, it was Joseph McCarthy, and that there was a small picture of the man in our textbook and therefore I should have recognized him instantly. Half the class, apparently, did not.
The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.
FUCKING THIS THANK YOU. YOU ARE PERFECT.
A) my grade school teachers repeatedly tried to get me to write right handed even though I am the most left handed person you will ever meet. No, I am not 75 years old. This happened just a few short decades ago.
B) In COLLEGE, I had to prove that I wrote a paper because it was deemed something a COLLEGE EDUCATED person should not be able to write. I was saved ONLY by the grace of a fellow student who spoke up and said that she had paid me to help her with HER paper and had watched me write my own during research sessions (I didn’t write hers. I only proofread and suggested edits. I was poor as fuck and needed the cash).
Over the course of my education I have been accused of plagiarizing essays and other writing assignments because I have a larger vocabulary then the other students and actually know how to write a proper sentence.
I refuse to be a part of any AP classes, even though I’ve been called in by the administration multiple times to take it because AP classes only teach you how to handle more busy work.
I’ve been told that I read too much and that I’m too advanced for my grade but that instead of letting me skip a grade, they kept me with my classmates.
I’ve been accused of not being able to have “that level of thinking skills” on assignments that I have done.
The American school system is built to make little carbon-copies of the same type of person by the time we graduate. In elementary school you can see individual personalities and interests in people and by graduation everyone is exactly the same and can give a speech precisely the same as the person sitting next to them. It’s memorization of useless facts and training to be the Generic American Worker.
And you wonder why everyone thinks Americans are stupid.
It’s because we’re not allowed to be smart.
Evening Post: August 12, 1899.
"She immediately alighted, caught hold of the astonished youth, and gave him a sound thrashing, using her fists in a scientific fashion…”
I would love to know what this means.
I think that might be code for “punched him in the balls with devastating accuracy”.
Boxing has long been known as the “Sweet Science.”
people underestimate the effect of microaggressions and the way they alter your behavior, and the way you view life and other people.
all marginalized people operate as survivors of trauma, basically, coz we all have to learn to maneuver constant covert and overt abuse in…
I like to think that fistpump angel makes everyone happy!
Since people were asking, it’s the famous smiling angel of Reims Cathedral:
THIS ANGEL BELIEVES IN YOU! You can Do the Thing!!!!
I especially love this smiling guy from Regensburg in Bavaria) This Gabriel is really happy to have brought his news to Maria)
AHHHH I LOVE IT
Not saying Quvenzhané’s name is an attempt, consciously or unconsciously, to step around and contain her blackness. Yes, sometimes black people have names that are difficult to pronounce. There aren’t many people of European descent named Shaniqua or Jamal. Names are as big a cultural marker as brown skin and kinky hair, and there’s long been backlash against both of those things (see: perms, skin bleaching creams, etc.). The insistence on not using Quvenzhané’s name is an extension of that “why aren’t you white?” backlash.
It is easier to be colorblind, to simply turn a blind eye to the differences that have torn this nation apart for centuries than it is to wade through those choppy waters. And Quvenzhané’s very existence is enough to make the societal majority uncomfortable. She is talented, successful, beautiful, happy, loved, and adored–all things that many people don’t figure that little black girls with “black” names could, or should, be. Their answer? Let’s make her more palatable. If she insists on not fitting the mold of the ghetto hoodrat associated with women with “urban” names, let’s take her own urban name away from her.
Refusing to learn how to pronounce Quvenzhané’s name says, pointedly, you are not worth the effort. The problem is not that she has an unpronounceable name, because she doesn’t. The problem is that white Hollywood, from Ryan Seacrest and his homies to the AP reporter who decided to call her “Annie” rather than her real name, doesn’t deem her as important as, say, Renee Zellwegger, or Zach Galifinakis, or Arnold Schwarzenegger, all of whom have names that are difficult to pronounce–but they manage. The message sent is this: you, young, black, female child, are not worth the time and energy it will take me to learn to spell and pronounce your name. You will be who and what I want you to be; you be be who and what makes me more comfortable. I will allow you to exist and acknowledge that existence, but only on my terms.
READ IT. THEN READ IT AGAIN.
This is so very important. That girl’s name is as beautiful as she is, and she deserves to be treated with respect.(via tamorapierce)
This is a terrific tooth of a large dinosaur aged, marine reptile Plesiosaurus mauritanicus. It’s just under 2 1/2 inches long and was collected from the phosphate mines near Khourigba, Morocco.