My phone is so old in technology years that Instagram, one of only five apps on my phone, has stopped working. So. This phone might be coming to its end, which is very stupid because it is a functional device otherwise. Thanks planned obsolescence.
I’m so glad that places are sticking to QR codes, and my phone can’t open them.
I’m so glad that links in instagram (when it still worked) would not open.
I’m so glad that it would take several attempts to “download” every time someone sent me a photo via text. And sometimes it wouldn’t even work.
I’m so glad that the majority of emojis people send me come through as question marks?
Cell phones are so expensive, and I’m lucky that I can afford to get a used one soon, but it is crazy to think that all people need cell phones to get by in this society. This expensive ass device that needs to be upgraded regularly to be able to continue to function in society.
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i made a character uquiz. i 100% promise you that you will get a character you know AND like
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2024 is all about being cozy and saying i love you whenever it crawls to the tip of my tongue
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Just some late night post card making ft Gars
[ID: horizontal lines of blue and white identical garfish with orange and yellow stars interspersed. end ID]
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““The Great Pacific Garbage Patch can now be cleaned,” announced Dutch entrepreneur Boyan Slat, the wonderkid inventor who’s spent a decade inventing systems for waterborne litter collection.
Recent tests on his Ocean Cleanup rig called System 002, invented to tackle the 1.8 trillion pieces of plastic pollution, were a success, leading Slat to predict that most of the oceanic garbage patches could be removed by 2040.
Intersections of ocean currents have created the massive floating islands of plastic trash—five slow-moving whirlpools that pull litter from thousands of miles away into a single radius.
The largest one sits between California and Hawaii, and 27-year-old Slat has been designing and testing his systems out there, launching from San Francisco since 2013.
GNN has reported on his original design for the floating device, but his engineering team improved upon it. System 002, nicknamed “Jenny,” successfully netted 9,000 kilograms, or around 20,000 pounds in its first trial.
It’s carbon-neutral, able to capture microplastics as small as 1 millimeter in diameter, and was designed to pose absolutely no threat to wildlife thanks to its wide capture area, slow motion, alerts, and camera monitors that allow operators to spy any overly-curious marine life...
Slat estimates ten Jennies could clean half the garbage patch in five years, and if 10 Jennies were deployed to the five major ocean gyres, then 90% of all floating plastic could be removed by 2040.” -via Good News Network, 10/19/21
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probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
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gouache test with one of my favourite burds
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more op silliness
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suddenly struck with thoughts about the devastating concept of Jason Todd
because he was good. because he had a bleeding heart despite every reason not to. he loved school and was good at it. he was the first to be adopted, with little pretense of guardianship. he did everything he could to be a perfect Robin and live up to an impossible ideal. he only ever wanted Bruce and Dick to like him.
because he met Bruce in the same place and on the same day that Bruce's parents died--the single defining moment of Batman's existence. and he made Batman laugh. he hit the Dark Knight, Terror of Gotham, with a tire iron. he wasn't afraid of the man who turned fear into a weapon.
because he couldn't save his mother from herself, but he tried. because he was too good not to try and save the woman who gave him up. too good to play the Joker's game. the crowbar didn't kill him, the bomb did. he died knowing he wouldn't make it and tried anyway. he died a hero.
because other Robins have died, but none of them put an irrevocable tear in the mythos of Batman. because Jason Todd always dies, in every universe. he dies for the sins of his father. he was put to death by popular vote, sacrificed by the crowd. doomed by the narrative and doomed by the audience. the boy who only ever tried to prove he was good enough--wasn't good enough.
because he has every reason to be angry. because he didn't ask to be murdered, didn't ask to be brought back, and when he did everyone acted like he was better off dead. Bruce tried to kill him and nearly succeeded. he's blamed for his own death and blamed for his resurrection. he can never come home because the house is haunted by his own ghost.
because he's been the hero, the victim, and the villain. because his family and his writers and his universe don't know what to make of him. they don't know how to look his tragedy in the eye. and how can you?
it hurts to look at the hero who cannot be good enough, the victim who will only ever be angry, the villain who can sometimes be right. the audience hates to feel complicit and, in this exceptional case, they are.
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