I wanna do more of my horror-y sculpture, but I can’t decide what I should do. I’ve done a couple Eye based pieces (“#1 boss” mug covered in eyes, mask covered in eyes, sculpture of Jon where he’s half human and half eldritch ceaseless watcher), I did a Spiral teapot, I would love to make more but I can’t come up with anything.

i don’t know literally ANY famous people it’s starting to stress me out because people are always saying names to me like i should know the names. and i never do

I love the internet for making dark circles not only an acceptable feature but an attractive one. The love for perpetually exhausted fictional guys is genuinely so helpful for my self-perception as someone who’s had dark circles since I was like seven years old, who has a fucked up circadian rhythm that keeps me from falling asleep until very late at night (and has done so since I was in kindergarten) which means I rarely get enough sleep and often naps during the day to compensate, who almost definitely has chronic exhaustion from a variety of factors (adhd, chronic pain, anxiety, etc). Seeing that no, my dark circles aren’t unpleasant to look at (no matter what creams and concealers and serums the beauty industry may try to sell me), no, my tiredness isn’t something people will hate me for, no, this symptom of my disabilities is not something people will turn away from me for, is genuinely so so important and wonderful to me. The scrunkly/poor little meow meow genre of men has done wonders for my self-esteem.

Girl help my dark circles are starting to escape the lower bounds of my eye sockets

My friend just made me feel weird for asking so now i gotta know.

If you do have a favorite bird please please tell me in the tags, i want to see some Birds!!

I think we may have accidentally adopted an anteater.

Yellow Bittern (Ixobrychus sinensis), male calling and displaying, family Ardeidae, order Pelicaniformes, India

photograph by PinakighoshPhotography  

“Why should rich people pay more” because fuck ‘em

“So you are okay for paying more when you have money” I am not excluded from ‘fuck ‘em’ when relevant

born to use switches and knobs arranged in a cockpit, each one offering a tactile sensation as you flick it and the mech you're in lurches into action

forced to use touchscreens at your desk

Things my extremely Italian physics professor has said:

“If you are walking in the woods nearby Chernobyl, you will probably be fine. But if you pick something up off the ground and eat it, you will die of radiation poisoning. Of course you may die if you eat things from the ground in other places, also, but likely not of radiation.”

“Unfortunately there is nothing I can teach you that will prevent you dying if there is on your house a hydrogen bomb. That is a politician problem. If any of you are president later, please do not hydrogen bomb my house.”

“Radioactivity could perhaps be used by terrorists, but it has not yet. Likely this is because terrorists do not study much physics.”

“Why is it that physics graduate students cannot make a nuclear bomb? It is not that they do not want to. They simply have not the money to buy the materials. Or anything else.”

One thing I’ve inherited from my mother is my feet. Not only are they the same size but we get the same utility out of them, which is to say both of our big toes are unusually long and flexible.

When she was pregnant my mom used this fact to just pick up things with her feet instead of bending down. She never lost the habit, so when I was young I hopped immediately on board the fun game of picking up stuff with my toes.

Laundry, pencils, I’ll casually grab stuff laying on the floor with my toes without bending down. It’s proven itself as a useful skill with my chronic illness or when my back is thrown out.

But there is a dark side to these toe powers. My mom uses her toes for evil more often than not. Because they’re ideal for pinching. A common cry in the house was my dad from their bedroom going, “Ah! Don’t pinch me!” Followed by my moms evil giggle.

Tragically it is so fun to use pinchy toes for evil. The most fun thing to grab is someone’s Achilles tendon or calves but y’know. They tend not to like it. Cause it pinches.

I’ve never done more than gently grip my betrothed with my pinchy toes, an act of love and a testament to my iron willpower because again, it’s so goddamn fun. But one night after they told me to knock it off I started telling them that my mom is always pinching my dad when they cuddle.

“It hurts?” they asked me in perplexity.

“Well yeah, like, I could be hurting you, but I’m not, because I love you. It so easy to pinch hard.”

They radiated disbelief at me.

“Do you need me to show you I can pinch hard enough to hurt?” I asked.

“Sure, show me.”

I greedily reached for their legs with my evil toes unleashed and in seconds they exclaimed, “Ow! How are you doing that!”

I snickered and subsided. They processed the breadth of my toe skills while I savored the tiny mischief I had indulged.

Finally they said, “I want to try.”

“Sure.” I laid passively while they clumsily attempted to grip any part of my leg between their toes. They grew increasingly frustrated while I stifled giggles. Their toes gripped helplessly at me like toothless gums, failing to gain purchase.

Finally they managed to grip my Achilles tendon and gave a triumphant laugh. By no definition was it remotely uncomfortable, let alone painful but I indulgently said, “Ow,” for them.

“Don’t patronize me,” they whispered venomously. Then they snuggled close and my toes returned to their humble life picking up socks that have fallen from the laundry basket.

y'all ever think about how insane the sauropods were

In acknowledging the fact that young folks can have chronic pain and it’s not just something that happens to old people, you must also acknowledge that that could be you, that there is nothing special about you, that it is not some cosmic punishment or consequence of age or something that can be avoided, that the only thing between you and this horribly tragic fate is luck. Pure, simple luck. People hate knowing that, hate acknowledging that, and so they ignore it all, leading to the extreme difficulties young people have in getting diagnosed with and/or treated for chronic pain. In this essay I will-

listening to wtnv in 2024 makes me understand immediately why tumblr over a decade ago thought this shit was the coolest thing ever. it casually but flawlessly parodies the us surveillance state, ultra-militarized police forces, inane human resource bureaucracies and the blasé of the suburban middle class all within the span of three episodes with a very tongue in cheek slice of life format that doesn’t sound possible on paper but is executed absolutely absurdly well