#rice school of architecture

[the1920sinpictures]

1921 Lillian Rice (in driver’s seat) graduated the University of California (Berkeley) School of Architecture. At thirty-one architect Richard Requa gave her the project to develop the planned community of Rancho Santa Fe, just north of San Diego. Lillian’s crew: Mrs. Norman McLean (on truck hood), Virginia Smith (standing) and Bertha Kreuziger (on the running board). From America in the 1920′s, FB.

[fatehbaz]

The archipelago of uplifted coral that is my mother’s homeland surfaced during the earth’s ancient cycles of glaciation. The early people came in sakmans, carried by wind and seas, guided by stars and clouds and bioluminescence, the fragrance of flowers, the flight paths of birds. Settlers lived and fished and farmed in this part of Oceania for thousands of years, but the naming history issues forth at the moment of subjugation. Islas de los Ladrones -- the Islands of Thieves -- they were called by the first Europeans who came. Then Islas de las Velas, the Islands of the Lateen Sails. Then the Mariana Islands, in honor of Spain’s queen regent. Before it was Guam, Guåhan was known, under Japanese rule, as Omiya Jima, the Great Shrine Island. [...] Elsewhere, settlements recall the body of the creation god Puntan: Tiyan, his flat stomach. Hagåtña, his blood. Toto, his resting back. Mongmong, his beating heart. [...]

These small islands have grown crowded with denotations, I try to tell a friend, except it comes out as detonations. [...]

---

I am reading from a passage on CHamoru history and culture. Kåntan Chamorita is an ancestral form of call-and-response, a spontaneous sung dialogue. [...] Thumbing the texts, I brandish our histories: the brutality of Japanese rule; the architectural colonization that drove the CHamoru from los antiguos, their dwelling places in latte houses; the violation of natural resources brought about by American occupation.

She [mother] tsks, waves impatiently. Hekkua’. An expression that means at once “I don’t know” and “Forget it.”  [...]

In 1917, the U.S. Navy banned the CHamoru language in the Mariana Islands. A few years later, by order of U.S. naval captain Adelbert Althouse, all CHamoru dictionaries were burned. The language was said to represent a cognitive deficiency. The adoption of English would ensure, among other things, mental well-being.

The ban has since been lifted, but my mother hid her language for so long, it’s become hard to find.

What is the word for sky? I ask her.

She shakes her head. Nothing word for sky. Only heaven: långet. [...]

---

And so did we sail out. For more than ten years [...]. We moved into other countries where other languages had been suppressed and where other people had been made invisible. There were signs [...]. In New Zealand, where I went to kindergarten, Ma¯ori children were beaten for speaking te reo in schools. Bislama was prohibited in Vanuatu, but I only remember the quietness of the bay, the great banyan trees, the malaria pills. In New Caledonia, where I went to elementary school, the Kanak languages were banned from the education system from 1863 until 1984. Gendarmes in Nouméa stood on street corners with machine guns slung across their chests. [...]

My mother is telling us something exciting. She trips happily over the words, her face laughing. [...] My mother did not want me speaking like her. She wanted me to be better than that, which is to say better than her. [...]

Kao piniten hao? -- Have you been hurt?

Hunggan. Mayulang, yu’ -- Yes. I’m breaking.

My mother corrects me: mayulang only applies to a thing that’s broken, not a person. You can be hurt, she tells me, but not broken. [...]

---

The etymology of translation refers to the removal of a saint’s body to a new location, to bearing bones and words, both sacred, across. As if anything can be moved whole [...].

We never heard the end of my mother’s stories. [...] These days, she is happy to let most of her sentences go unfinished. [...]

She raises her eyebrows, juts her chin.

I tell her, You’re a book of lost endings.

Which one? she asks.

---

It’s too small here, I said. It’s boring, hot. It’s too small. [...] We spent two years sleeping on my auntie’s living room floor. Unrolling futons and lying under the weeping air conditioning unit and peeling paint. We ate Spam and rice with ketchup. [...]

Lately, I have been confusing the CHamoru word for flight, malagu, with the word for flee, falagu. [...]

I dream now of the islands and wake with my head barely above water, my mouth filling with salt. [...]

Mamaolek ha’? -- Are you doing okay?

Maolek. I’m doing okay.

---

Text by: Hannah Dela Cruz Abrams. “Moving the Saints: Passages from a deconstructed homeland.” Orion Magazine. Spring 2023. [Some paragraph breaks and contractions added by me.]

[nimmee]

I have been having Nanamin brain rot for last few days. Okay I couldn't stop all these ideas are absolutely overwhelming me so here we go with part 3 of Nanamin Kento headcanons

Continued from part 2

25. His mother and his maternal grandfather taught him to cook. Let's talk Bread making, baking and all things sweet, he has been making bread since he was 10. His mom owned a pastry shop because she loved baking and he helped around as he grew up. Also he took up cooking classes in high school (that being jujustsu tech, they do provide with more normal forms of education because well, they do train kids for jujustsu sorcery but kids need real life skills too. ), for two reasons he loved cooking and to distract himself from the terrible stress and grief of losing Yu and then Geto.

26. Geto scouted both Yu and Nanamin, even though Geto was too young, yet sometimes Geto, Gojo, Shoko or Utahime would go with principal Yaga to scout kids. Although Geto turned all Conservative after his identity crisis he still absolutely believed in protecting and training sorcerer kids to control their negetive emotions especially those who come from non sorcerer families. The reason being most of those kids would have been labelled schizophrenic or druggies by general public if they weren't properly trained or informed about their shaman powers. Also explains why he lost it when he saw those two little girls abused to the point of death. Geto always liked Nanamin as a junior. He had a soft corner in his heart for Nanamin. (would write more about Geto's pov when I write his head canons)

27. Nanami catches cold easily. And list of his sick food is pretty short. His sick food list includes chicken stew with butter rice with some crushed black pepper. Congi. Tomatoe soup and toast. Cauliflower soup with some macaroni and cheese in it (not in obnoxious amount just the right amount) . Chicken noodle soup. (just imagine : Nanamin wrapped in a fluffy blanket sitting under a kotatsu with a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the table while his comfort movie plays. His hair tousled. Him in his comfiest pjs. *sighs in Cuteness * this man needs a warm hug)

28. He can forge his own knives. His paternal grandfather forged all kinds of knives, from katanas to wood carving knives. He taught a teenage Kento to forge knives. Later he learnt to imbue cursed energy into his knives when he came to jujustsu tech. The blade he uses is handmade by him.

29. The tie he wears was handmade by his maternal grandmother. She was a very skilled seamstress. She had made him two leopard print ties, a small one because he was 7 years old, and a adult sized tie if he wanted to wear it later. Why leopard print you ask, Nanamin loved leopards as a child, that's why.

30. Kento is a man of many interests. Some interests have already been disclosed but this one might seem over the top cliche. He has a knack for photography. It makes sense because photography deals a lot with ratio and given his cursed technique he naturally understands prepectives and angles. Gojo being Gojo, exploits this quality of Nanamin to its fullest, even annoyed Nanamin complies. Half of the Instagram post on Gojo's account are taken by Nanamin. Also his knack for architecture came in handy too. Also...Bonsai ? Yes he loves the idea but hasn't yet come around to practice it.

Bonus : 31. Kento doesn't have a type when it comes to dating. He believes it's pretty spontaneous and doesn't always has to have a set in stone rules to fall in love. As long as they can work together and are compatible he's absolutely satisfied.

#kento nanami fluff #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanamin #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami headcanons #nanami angst #nanami headcanons #nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader fluff #nanami x fem!reader #nanami x y/n #jjk manga #jjk fic #jjk au #jjk imagines #jjk #jjk 0 movie #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jjk geto #jjk gojo #jjk headcanons #gojo #geto suguru #gojo satoru #getou suguru

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Points to the Sunshine State for teaching kids that slavery was an unpaid internship that helped build useful skills. [The Daily Don]

* * * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

July 22, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUL 23, 2023

The Florida Board of Education approved new state social studies standards on Wednesday, including standards for African American history, civics and government, American history, and economics. Critics immediately called out the middle school instruction in African American history that includes “how slaves developed skills which, in some instances, could be applied for their personal benefit.” (p. 6). They noted that describing enslavement as offering personal benefits to enslaved people is outrageous.

But that specific piece of instruction in the 216-page document is only a part of a much larger political project. 

Taken as a whole, the Florida social studies curriculum describes a world in which the white male Founders of the United States embraced ideals of liberty and equality—ideals it falsely attributes primarily to Christianity rather than the Enlightenment—and indicates the country’s leaders never faltered from those ideals. Students will, the guidelines say, learn “how the principles contained in foundational documents contributed to the expansion of civil rights and liberties over time” (p. 148) and “analyze how liberty and economic freedom generate broad-based opportunity and prosperity in the United States” (p. 154).

The new guidelines reject the idea that human enslavement belied American principles; to the contrary, they note, enslavement was common around the globe, and they credit white abolitionists in the United States with ending it (although in reality the U.S. was actually a late holdout). Florida students should learn to base the history of U.S. enslavement in “Afro-Eurasian trade routes” and should be instructed in “how slavery was utilized in Asian, European, and African cultures,” as well as how European explorers discovered “systematic slave trading in Africa.” Then the students move on to compare “indentured servants of European and African extraction” (p. 70) before learning about overwhelmingly white abolitionist movements to end the system.

In this account, once slavery arrived in the U.S., it was much like any other kind of service work: slaves performed “various duties and trades…(agricultural work, painting, carpentry, tailoring, domestic service, blacksmithing, transportation).” (p. 6) (This is where the sentence about personal benefit comes in.) And in the end, it was white reformers who ended it.

This information lies by omission and lack of context. The idea of Black Americans who “developed skills” thanks to enslavement, for example, erases at the most basic level that the history of cattle farming, river navigation, rice and indigo cultivation, southern architecture, music, and so on in this country depended on the skills and traditions of African people.

Lack of context papers over that while African tribes did practice enslavement, for example, it was an entirely different system from the hereditary and unequal one that developed in the U.S. Black enslavement was not the same as indentured servitude except perhaps in the earliest years of the Chesapeake settlements when both were brutal—historians argue about this— and Indigenous enslavement was distinct from servitude from the very beginning of European contact. Some enslaved Americans did in fact work in the trades, but far more worked in the fields (and suggesting that enslavement was a sort of training program is, indeed, outrageous). And not just white abolitionists but also Black abolitionists and revolutionaries helped to end enslavement.

Taken together, this curriculum presents human enslavement as simply one of a number of labor systems, a system that does not, in this telling, involve racism or violence.

Indeed, racism is presented only as “the ramifications of prejudice, racism, and stereotyping on individual freedoms.” This is the language of right-wing protesters who say acknowledging white violence against others hurts their children, and racial violence is presented here as coming from both Black and white Americans, a trope straight out of accounts of white supremacists during Reconstruction (p. 17). To the degree Black Americans faced racial restrictions in that era, Chinese Americans and Japanese Americans did, too (pp. 117–118).

It’s hard to see how the extraordinary violence of Reconstruction, especially, fits into this whitewashed version of U.S. history, but the answer is that it doesn’t. In a single entry an instructor is called to: “Explain and evaluate the policies, practices, and consequences of Reconstruction (presidential and congressional reconstruction, Johnson's impeachment, Civil Rights Act of 1866, the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments, opposition of Southern whites to Reconstruction, accomplishments and failures of Radical Reconstruction, presidential election of 1876, end of Reconstruction, rise of Jim Crow laws, rise of Ku Klux Klan)” (p. 104). 

That’s quite a tall order. 

But that’s not the end of Reconstruction in the curriculum. Another unit calls for students to “distinguish the freedoms guaranteed to African Americans and other groups with the 13th, 14th, and 15th Amendments to the Constitution…. Assess how Jim Crow Laws influenced life for African Americans and other racial/ethnic minority groups…. Compare the effects of the Black Codes…on freed people, and analyze the sharecropping system and debt peonage as practiced in the United States…. Review the Native American experience”  (pp. 116–117).

Apparently, Reconstruction was not a period that singled out the Black population, and in any case, Reconstruction was quick and successful. White Floridians promptly extended rights to Black people: another learning outcome calls for students to “explain how the 1868 Florida Constitution conformed with the Reconstruction Era amendments to the U.S. Constitution (e.g., citizenship, equal protection, suffrage)” (p. 109).

All in all, racism didn’t matter to U.S. history, apparently, because “different groups of people ([for example] African Americans, immigrants, Native Americans, women) had their civil rights expanded through legislative action…executive action…and the courts.” 

The use of passive voice in that passage identifies how the standards replace our dynamic and powerful history with political fantasy. In this telling, centuries of civil rights demands and ceaseless activism of committed people disappear. Marginalized Americans did not work to expand their own rights; those rights “were expanded.” The actors, presumably the white men who changed oppressive laws, are offstage. 

And that is the fundamental story of this curriculum: nonwhite Americans and women “contribute” to a country established and controlled by white men, but they do not shape it themselves. 

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Heather Cox Richardson #Letters From An American #DeSantis #Florida #education #racism #history #J.Duquette #The Daily Don #teachers #fascism

[kanamayari]

MARY KIM, at the first day of school, played the role of a social butterfly. With a playful grin plastered across her face and an approachable demeanor, ultimately contrasting Vin's boastful and arrogant self.

It was no surprise that she instantly hit it off with the students of their class, regardless of their appearance and personalities.

After all, she is a true neutral. She doesn't care about their physique or morals but at the same time, she doesn't care whether they're being bullied. Mary Kim cares, but she doesn't have the morality of a saint.

A new school in a new place means a fresh start. And she wants to start her life here with joyous laughs and trustworthy comrades. Unlike Cheonliang, where she was scorned at on her very first day.

Most of the time, she stands idly on the sidelines, watching whatever occurs in this school. Attentive; analyzing everyone's characters while making sure to keep a leash on her bastard, Vin Jin, who's determined to get his ass kicked every single day.

She's seen everyone form their own friend group, even formed her own, and keeps notes of all the delinquents in every department. Before she knew it, Mary knows everything that's happening in J High.

But for some reason, the pair that caught her eyes most are architecture department's Jace and Vasco. Specifically, the former.

Perhaps it was the dynamic between them that gives her a sense of deja vu. A laidback individual willingly babysitting a dumbass. Now, doesn't that sound familiar? The similarity is so painstaking it makes her stomach swirl!

But unlike her, Jace is firm and gentle (At least in her eyes). He talks to Vasco in a soft, understanding tone, explains anything the other doesn't understand with incredible patience, and announces their friendship with pride. At the same time, Vasco is nowhere near as violent and rotten as Vin Jin.

Perhaps that's why. That's why she's so invested in Jace. That's why she finds herself staring at him whenever the duo walks into the room.

That, and because Jace Park and Lee Euntae are the exact opposite of them. The better version of them. Looked up to, but not through fear. Always down to fight, but for the sake of justice.

Always, with her head leaning against the sole of her palm and a fond smile whenever Jace passes by. Watching with something unfamiliar swimming in her eyes. The way he talks, the way he struts and scolds, arms folding against his chest. Sometimes, she wonders if this is how she would have been if Cheonliang's violent nature didn't get to them.

If Cheonliang isn't such a notorious place, would they have been like Vasco and Jace instead of themselves?

She watches, and watches, that even Vin calls her out on it.

“You crushing on that dumbo or something?” He raises a brow before biting down his meal.

“The hell do you take me for, you punk? Of course not.” She scowls, flicking her eyes away from Jace who's laughing alongside Vasco, and focuses on her food, completely avoiding Vin's knowing grin.

Vin Jin, being the bastard he is, scoffs at her response and puts a spoonful of rice in her tray. “Ain't no lying from me, you bitch. You're not even trying to be subtle.” And another spoonful.

“I told you, I'm not. Good boys are not my type.” she replies, growling. “And eat your own meal. I'm not finishing all that for you.”

“No fucking way. This is disgusting. I don't know how they cooked this but it tastes spoiled.” He quips, making an over exaggerated gagging noise.

“Then why are you giving it to me, you prick?!”

“Because you're f—”

“Do I hear fat?!”

“.. I was gonna say fucking!”

“I heard a ‘fa’!”

Their increasing shouts caught the attention of a nearby teacher, who scolds them and told them to eat their lunch in silence. Mary apologized and begrudgingly settled down, glaring at Vin.

( she appreciates it. she appreciates him. )

~~~

If you're not into him, then why are you scared of approaching him, huh?

One day, she stands in front of the bewildered boy with a smile on her face. Confusion is written across Jace's face as he stutters out a question, asking if there's something she needs of him. And for a short while, she stares and stares, searching for a reason.

Why?

Why did she stalk up to him out of the blue? What reason does she have to talk to him?

In that very short moment, she racks her brains for any possible reason.

Until her finger shoots up, pointing at his ears.

“I like your ears. Can i touch them?”

#lookism #Mary Kim #Jace Park #Vasco #Vin Jin #I guess this is Mary x Jace? #mary kim brain rot go brrrr #Vin Jin is annoying #Kim Miru #Jin Hobin #Park Bumjae #lee euntae

[charlotte-of-wales]

Is Syracuse like an Ivy League for Architecure?

I don’t know if I would put it like that but they do have a great undergrad program. I think last year they were ranked #3 after Cornell and Rice. Their acceptance rate for the architecture program is significantly smaller than the one for the school as a whole and from what I’ve heard from people who go there, it’s TOUGH. You don’t make it unless you’re putting your blood, sweat and tears into all-nighters after all-nighters.

Hence my MASSIVE respect for Rajwa. My program isn’t nowhere near the third best in the country and I’m a barely functioning human when school is in session.

#that being said I would love to see her work #it’s common for schools to post about it everywhere but I haven’t seen anything #answered

[gokartkid]

inception au chalex that will NOT BE A FIC. until i finish everything else <3

Some people think that being in dreamshare is glamorous, and full of action, like you’re some sort of a James Bond. 

Right now, with a piece of toast crammed inside his mouth and a bit of toothpaste dripped onto his skinny blue tie, Alex would like to give a big middle finger to those people. 

His phone starts ringing furiously in his back pocket and he swears, wipes his greasy, buttery hands on the tea-towel on the counter. He chews and swallows too quickly, can feel the toast travelling in big chunks down his oesophagus.

“Hullo, Albon speaking.”

“Alexander, that is seriously such a creepy way to answer your phone mate,” Charles says on the other end. 

“Sorry, just trying to maintain some professionalism here,” Alex rolls his eyes. He pats at the white stain of toothpaste, then does his tie up quickly. Simple, not any kind of fancy Windsor knot. He wasn’t that kind of prep school boy.

“Do you have everything ready with the files?” 

“Mm hm,” Alex shoves his phone between his cheek and shoulder, as he rifles around the loose papers on his desk. He prefers to be digital, everything stored on his laptop, but Charles is a pieces-of-paper-pinned-to-a-board type. It’s like he can’t think properly on a google doc, has to be able to highlight and draw arrows and circles and whatnot. Alex thinks it’s the best indicator of his personality you could get.

“And-“ Charles sounds excited, “-I have finally gotten in contact with George.”

Alex pauses, in his frantic search. He hadn’t really expected Charles to be able to get him, to be honest. Of course, that was one of the reasons that Charles was up there in terms of point men. He was frightfully good at pulling stuff and people together, even if he seemed a bit in his own head at times. Nobody could avoid him for long before he was borderline banging down your door, cherubic smile on his face. 

He replies after a delay, too long to be strictly polite.

“Ah. Okay, so what did he say?”

“He said he is in, and asked if we were still working together.”

Alex’s mouth twists.

“And-?” 

Alex’s phone bursts into static as Charles laughs. He really has to get a better microphone; Alex knows for a fact that he’s talking into his airpods that he dropped into the river the last time they went out drinking together. They miraculously came back to life after soaking overnight in a bag of rice, but they had never been the same. 

“I said of course we are.”

Another pause. Alex sighs.

“And what did he say to that.”

Sometimes, getting a story out of Charles is like pulling teeth. 

“Well he just made a noise like-“ he sighs, staticy “-and then said oh yes of course he will fly over, and where are we, and can I send the contract.”

Alex frowns. 

“That is okay?”

Charles can also be, alarmingly perceptive.

“Yeah. Yeah of course, alright, look, I’ll get to you in a second.”

“No problem, I know how you are in the morning.”

Alex splutters.

“Just do not forget the compounds, I don’t want to have to talk to Max about getting more of his formula, and Daniel is on holiday.” 

Alex hangs up on him. Charles is probably cackling on the other end. He had been about to forget them, but he wouldn’t tell him that. Five bottles with sticky styrofoam glued to them protectively, held suspended in case. Clear liquid, just a bit thicker than water, swirled around in brown glass. 

He pulls up to the office that they’ve rented out with his suitcase, laptop bag slung over one shoulder and two coffee’s in his hands. He blends right in with the other suited, corporate drones walking to their jobs, nothing about him suggesting why it is he’s elevator-ing up to an abandoned and empty 4th floor, sandwiched between a law firm and a co-op workspace. 

Alex had dropped out of architecture halfway through his degree, but had done well enough for his professor to earmark him for the dreamshare project. That is, he’d done well, got the dreamshare project, then promptly flung himself out of university in order to make more money than he ever, ever could designing buildings and infrastructure. 

Charles had been a part of that initial uni group too. Alex remembers walking in and seeing him, knuckles pressed into his face and half sliding down his chair, looking like he hated being there. He’d had deep bags under his eyes, and his hair stuck out from underneath a bandana wrapped around his forehead. 

He was easily one of the most attractive people Alex had ever seen. Alex had promptly wrote him off as an option entirely. People that looked like that, usually weren’t interested in advances from people like Alex.

George had been there too, in that little group that met late at night and laid down on the floor, all hooked up to a bulky machine. They weren’t architecture majors, all cobbled together from different degrees. 

Alex is pretty sure they’re the only three that actually broke through from that little group. The rest of them were somehow satisfied with the few hits of Somnacin, of only dipping into that endless, beautiful world of dreams the once. 

Charles is already under when he makes his way up, face still and peaceful, arm hanging down with the IV in. The machine is beeping steadily beside him. 8 minutes left, counting down on the screen. Decent time, enough for Alex to shuck off his jacket and push the sleeve of his shirt up; too starchy, he had to get it dry-cleaned after he spilled a bit of Chinese on it the other night. Sweet and sour pork. 

It’s a facsimile of Alex’s plans that he drops into, buildings that stretch up and then become hard to look at, half made, your brain struggling to fill them in. That’s the problem when Charles hosts dreams. They blur at the edges obviously, and there’s too much free space where a clients mind can take over, construct a whole world without you having control. 

When they need to use him for a layer, usually they make him do just a room, or the interior of a hotel that they never have to leave. 

“Ah,” Charles turns and smiles at him. “finally. I think I am finishing up in here soon, no? Just wanted to get an idea of how everything was going.” 

Alex nods, and spreads his arms. “Well. What do you reckon?” 

Charles crosses his arms and looks around.

“Obviously, it is not done yet, and I am not so good at filling in, but it definitely looks like the pictures. And there-“ he points to a bridge, further in the distance, “-that is where we would do it? The kick?”

Alex nods. Dropping a car off the side of a bridge isn’t so original, but it’s the easiest way to coordinate a simultaneous kick, since they’re going 2 levels deep. An intricate dreamscape, their most complicated so far between the ones they’ve put together as a team. Alex had done 3 layers once before, with others. It hadn’t worked out well. 

He rubs at his coin in his pocket, smooth and well worn. If he flips it, it’ll be heads, a shiny golden queen staring impassively back at him. 

They do a walk through discussing the little things; where the maze of roads needs to fit, the route the car will need to take, weaving through the city. Music starts playing faintly and muffled, the last ten seconds of a dream that stretch endlessly. 

Alex frowns, and then opens his mouth to say, incredulously, “is that Camilla Cabe-“

He blinks awake. Señorita is blasting out of the speakers and Charles is red-faced. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here! I wake up easier to this kind of,” he gestures, “anyway. Hello.”

Alex blinks, and then bursts into pealing laughter. 

#anyway alex is like exes with george in this and spends half the time pining for charles #and lewis and seb r here also very like. the seniors of dreamshare. im imagining its becoming slooowly more known #and they were pioneers #alex albon #my fic #charles leclerc #chalex #inception au #charles/alex #f1 #formula 1 rpf

[sicjimin]

puke-filled date ;

a.n : a pure brain vomit at midnight .. i apologize if this not make any sense because i really do not think—no thoughts, head empty— as i write this.

TW: emeto, graphic descriptions of vomiting.

Yoongi genuinely didn't mean to be a downer on his date. His second date to be exact. Taehyung is such a good guy and Yoongi wants nothing but for this, whatever high-school crushes .. flings .. silly little romantic feeling ... he had with Taehyung for the past months to last.

But with his attitude today .. Yoongi doubts there will be a third date. He dozed off, for the 20 minutes he had been here—his brain feels fuzzy and barely can register Taehyung's chatters as his mind played the what-ifs.

There are few mistakes .. or you could say bad decisions that Yoongi made that lead him to his "what ifs" scenario right now.

The first mistake is forcing himself to go on the said date when he had tossed his dinner this morning right when he woke up. He was shivering, and barely could stand up without the room spinning on his eyes. He knows well that he can't do anything today except laying flat on his bed after taking some medicine and maybe forcing a few crackers down.

The second mistake is he was too confident after feeling slightly better and already sweats a bucket after gulping down the fever reducer and forcing himself to eat a bowl of jook complete with rice. A full portion.

The third mistake is he can't say no to Taehyung. He's too weak for the younger to say that he's not feeling well and reschedule their date or to protest about their date location.

and the third mistake is the core of it all.

Yoongi huffs, inhaling a very .. very .. deep breath, sucking in the fresh air in between all the pastry and coffee scents as much as possible to coil his upset stomach. He shudders when his act brings a sour burp up to his throat. But he fails miserably as the scent just engulfed him at once. He pressed his fist tight against his mouth when he feel some of his stomach content creeping up too. His lips turn into a straight line as he breathes out, and gulps the sicky feeling down.

He won't be sick.

He shakily takes a sip of his coffee, hoping that the bitter taste gonna wash down the acid licking the back of his throat.

Fourth mistake.

In front of him, Taehyung still excitedly takes a picture while chattering about the architecture and paintings hanging all over this cafe. Eyes wide to observe his surroundings. He has been bugging him to go on to this cafe—that's why Yoongi didn't have the heart to tell him to go to another place tonight.

"Hyung! Pose for me!", Taehyung cheers, already placing the viewer in front of his eyes and facing the camera towards the older.

Yoongi grunts, licking his chapped lips at the command—that only gained chuckles from the younger. "Stop being so grumpy hyung You know i love taking pics of pretty things. One picture please?"

Stupid his heart and stupid Taehyung.

Yoongi just hopes that Taehyung takes the red flush on his cheeks now as a form of shy blush. Not from fever.

Yoongi propped his head leaning over his palm, pulling his mask lightly so he can still hide his sickly mess face.

Flash.

Yoongi blinks.

If his dizziness wasn't so prominent earlier, oh he's sure it is now.

"Hyung?"

Ah ..

Yoongi shakes his head lightly, trying to make the yellow .. blue .. purple .. and black dots that hover over his vision from the blitz go. But it didn't go.

He scrunched his face. Closing his eyes to stop his vision from blurring so much, and for the room to stop spinning. Why does the dots not disappear?

He shifts and starts to feel lightheaded as a wave of dizziness just keeps crushing on him. His stomach churned. Swirling just like how his head goes.

"Hyung?"

Yoongi could feel .. and hear a chair scrape against the floor and someone wrapped his arms around him.

"Fuck you're breaking cold sweat"

Oh he does?

Yoongi huffs, pressing his shaky fist over his lips, as he could feel his lunch congeal into a thick mass at the bottom of his throat.

He's going to be sick.

He sucked a deep inhale. "I'm going to the bathroom", he mumbles Not actually caring if Taehyung could comprehend it or not as he didn't open his mouth too much—he can't. His mouth is too thick and coated with saliva to speak properly.

Moving made his nausea spike considerably, and he gulped back the acid flooding his mouth. Maybe he looks like a drunk person as he tries to find the restroom. Stumbling to his feet with hand clamped over his mouth—hoping that all his quiet gag won't become productive before he can reach the stall.

He almost lost.

His stomach rolls hard, pushing all the food he had inside to shoot up, filling his mouth—causing him to gag deep and loud. His eyes widen as he could feel few people stare at him the moment he opened the restroom door.

He didn't have time to apologize for the gross sound he just made. His vision tunneled into one spot, and that is the empty stall. He burst into it, barely locking the door properly before he bent in front of the toilet, letting his mouth hang open as saliva immediately drool from his lips. He spits, tucking his now long hair back behind his ears, then leaned forward as the urge to gag grew undeniable. He gag harshly, tongue arched against the roof of his mouth as his stomach curled in against his arms.

He pants. Shuddered with more intense nausea.

Yoongi shakes his head, scrunching his face again as he feels disgusted. Just get over it, please. He coughs wetly, rubbing his clammy palms against his stomach and giving it a light—he jolts with a mouthful of watery vomit. He barely catch a breath before it morphs into a more intense heave. He belched deeply, one that causes you to bend your body in half, as puke showered into the toilet ; filling it in a rapid pace. Yoongi coughs, and panting—staring into the grain of undigested rice that is splattered all over the bowl through his eyes, before the sight causing his stomach to turn again. His shoulders rolled, and he tightened his grips on the wall as another round of his stomach content poured out from his lips.

It feels like hours, and the tank was only half full when a fresh heave made him lurch forward and aim into the bowl again.  A watery stream of bile mixed with smaller bits of vomit cascaded out, but it ended quickly and left him shaking. The pain in his gut was much less, although his throat and mouth burned with acid and his ribs were sore from retching so hard.

Yoongi sagged against the wall, weakly flush the toilet and clean his runny nose, teary eyes, and wet lips ; all while also catching his breath and regaining his energy.

Shit. He curses under his breath—as he realized his fever spiked up again. All the medicine he downed today has gone into the toilet along with his lunch, so he's back into square one.

"Yoongi hyung? Are you there? Are you okay?"

Gosh. Taehyung .. he still IS on a date with him ....

Yoongi wants the ground to swallow him whole. He thinks that it's time to say goodbye to the third date.

***

Taehyung is such a good guy, and Yoongi honestly thinks he doesn't deserve him.

Taehyung is such a good guy as he holds him on his waist and helped his swaying, weak body out of the cafe after Yoongi opened the stall door with rimmed eyes.

Taehyung is such a good guy as he rubs his back, and even goes far as to take the plastic bag that is filled with vomit and dispose of it when Yoongi once again pukes on their way back to his apartment.

Taehyung is such a good guy as he helped Yoongi back to his apartment, helping him to change into clean clothes, tucking him in, and helping him to eat a little, taking medicine, even letting Yoongi hold his hand when he dozed off to sleep.

"Sleep hyung, let your body recover", Yoongi's heart swell as Taehyung card his free fingers over the older hair.

And Taehyung is such a good guy as he sleepily walks into the bathroom when Yoongi jolts awake, and vomiting again at 3 am —massaging his nape and murmuring soft nothing as he tossed water and medicine inside him.

"You're still here?", Yoongi rasps, resting his head over the toilet seat, that Taehyung immediately pull slowly and let it rest over his shoulder instead.

"You're sick hyung, how could i leave you alone", Taehyung yawns, "Let me take you to the doctor later, hm? You haven't been able to keep anything down"

"There's no need. I can go there alone", Yoongi mumbles, guilt starts to seep into his heart that now nausea has lessened, " I'm sorry I ruined our date. This is so disgusting"

"It's okay hyung, you're sick. That's call for another date then", Taehyung grins, brushing Yoongi's sweaty hair back. " Do you think you're good to let the toilet go? or are you still feeling sick?"

#bts sickfic #bts emeto #tw emeto #tw vomit #sick!yoongi #caretaker!taehyung

[maine805]

On April 14 2023 we have our educational fieldtrip we will visit different interesting places such as museums, departments and amusement parks. It was 5 in the morning when I arrive at my school waiting for my classmates and teachers that will guide us the whole day. On 6 am I got to our destined bus and started to drove to our first destination. As we wait to arrive in our first destination, we started to play music and jammed on it, we share stories and funny moments inside the bus. As we are chatting and telling stories one of the teachers stands up and gave us breakfast, our breakfast menu includes a fried chicken rice meal, Water and a piece of sponge cake. After i finish eating, the feeling of drowsiness hits me, i closed my eyes and had a quick nap. A few minutes later as i opened my eyes and look through the window i saw a beautiful and fascinating architecture, it was the building of the museum. My seatmate look at me and said "hey!! We're here! Finally!" She said happily, i looked at the window and start to feel excited i was a fan of paintings sculptures and arts, kinda consider my self as an artist, I have drawn, sketch and paint many things, if you asked me my favorite kind of paintings are religious and renaissance paintings, realistic paintings, surrealism paintings, and scenery paintings. I fixed my self and bring my sketchbook with me, the teachers told us to form a line, we formed a line and head inside. I was fascinated on how beautiful the exterior and the interior of the museum. My eyes is filled with excitement as we step inside. The museum staffs gives us guidelines and rules inside of the museum, they told us that we can take a picture and videos but we need to make sure that our camera doesn't produce flashes as we take a photo of each paintings. One of the staff became our tour guide and starts to introduce some paintings, he told us its history and who made it, i was so mesmerize by the beauty of it, Spolarium made by the amazing artist, Juan Luna, I am amaze of how he illustrated and paint the characters, i was amazed by the details of it, the merchants, soldiers and dying gladiators. I take a picture of it and take notes about Juan Luna's masterpiece. Our tour guide let us to explore the museum floor by floor, me and my partner decided to go to the religious paintings, as we step inside i was amazed on how big are the canvases, i began to take pictures, list informations of each of the paintings and observe the details of it such as the type of paint that they use or the strokes that they did. After the religious paintings we decide to go to the scenery paintings, as i was looking at the paintings, i saw a painting that catches my attention, it was the moonlight by the sea made by maralino rivera, i was fascinated by it, i love on how he illustrated the sea and the moon, it also has a hint of loneliness and peace. In my paintings i love illustrating the moon and the ocean, so seeing moonlight by the sea captures my heart.

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

[CN: food mentions!]

Headcanon that when Cameron finds herself struggling with coders’ block at the end of the summer, Donna convinces her to go on an impromptu weekend trip

Cameron is back from her ‘sabbatical.’ she’s fully settled in at Donna’s, she’s supposed to be working on a new game, her plan is to finish and release the game (‘get ready to suck on that, Atari!’) and then work full-time on Phoenix dot net. But during the summer, she suddenly finds herself unable to focus or make any useful decisions about the game. She not coincidentally starts learning more about baking and old, pre-war methods of cleaning, disinfecting, and canning.

When Donna comes home from work one evening to find the house half rearranged and Cameron in the kitchen, her old hachimaki with the Japanese sun and ‘kamikaze’ kanji tied around her forehead, surrounded by cooling jars of soon to be out of season strawberries and raspberries and pantry items that are waiting to be sorted and reorganized, she realizes that it’s time to intervene. When Cameron doesn’t even say hi, and instead says, “I promise it’s not as bad as it looks!” Donna says, “Okay! How can I help?” Cameron looks around, and then says, “…um, by ordering some takeout for dinner?”

One hour, several cartons of fried rice, egg rolls, and tofu and broccoli, and a quick panic attack later, Donna leans across the little out door dinner table that they’ve set up by the pool, and says, “Okay. So, I have an idea.” When Cameron squints skeptically at her, Donna says, “…a different idea.” Taking a sip of homemade lemonade, Cameron says, “So not staying in California, making a palm pilot together, and falling in love?” With a rueful grin, Donna says, “I just keep on walking right into that one, huh?” Cameron grins back at her. “I’m just teasing, Boss. You know that I think it was the best idea.” This makes Donna blush happily.

Then she sets down her drink, and says firmly, “What I was going to suggest is, what if we go somewhere this weekend? I have Friday off, no real plans, let’s just get out of here!” “What, like, Sonoma?” Cameron guesses. “No, although it’s very nice there, more like, really go somewhere, that we haven’t been. Like, I say we just pack some small bags on Thursday night, and then we get up early on Friday, and we just go to the airport” — “Absolutely not,” Cameron interjects — “Or,” Donna continues undeterred, “the Greyhound stati— “ (she doesn’t bother to finish saying the words after Cameron looks at her in horrified bewilderment) “or okay, I know, the train station! We can go the train station and just look up at the departures board, and we pick out a place that’s an hour or two away, and just have the best adventure we can.” Cameron purses her lips anxiously, and Donna leans forward again, and says, “Cameron, you did the work. You did the research, and the thinking deeply, and the planning. So now, it’s just time to walk away from it for a day or two, and let the next stroke of genius come to you.” Grinning tentatively, Cameron says, sounding very young, “I do really like trains.”

Which is how they end up in Davis for the weekend. (They consider Reno, but decide to save it for ‘next time’ when they realize it’s 7 hours away.) Their train departs mid-morning, and they chat and eat their cheesy egg sandwiches and drink their coffees and gaze at the passing scenery and all of the stations they stop at. Cameron seems relaxed, and Donna has to resist the temptation to tell her, “See? It’s already working, and we’re not even there yet!”

They arrive at the Davis station in the early afternoon, where Donna scours a rack of pamphlets and brochures, grabbing every one that looks interesting. They take a taxi to a nearby hotel, check into their room, and rest for a little while before heading the state school’s campus to tour the grounds and admire some architecture.

On Saturday Donna convinces Cameron to visit the raptor rehabilitation center at the state university’s school of veterinary medicine and she agrees after realizing that raptors are birds and not velociraptors. (“Like is it really necessary to call a living species by that name?! Just call them birds of prey, it isn’t that hard!”) Cameron unexpectedly gets emotional during the rehab center’s presentation, hearing story after story about how the resident birds are in the center’s care because, essentially, they’re disabled: they have eye and wing injuries (often caused by humans) that prevent them from hunting. But volunteers look after them, providing the best quality of life they can.

(The volunteers also have resident ‘ambassador birds’ who participate in the presentations perched on their outstretched gloved forearms. When one of the volunteers says that they refer to this as ‘sitting on the fist’ Donna laughs out loud, and Cameron hisses at her, “Would you get your mind out of the gutter for once? You are mortifying me!”)

Donna grabs more brochures and picks out some souvenirs from the gift shop as an apology, and Cameron, suddenly inspired, picks out guides on bird watching and raptor care and the history of falconry. Cameron finds herself reluctant to leave, but goes with Donna to the museum that’s next on their list. When they get there, Donna jokes, “I really hope that you’ll discuss it with me before you decide to take in a pet kestrel,” but Cameron says, “Hey, can you hang on a minute?” She sits down on a bench in the museum lobby and pulls a notebook and pen out of her backpack. “I just thought of something, I need to get it down….” Donna grins at her, “Take your time, I’ll be checking out the exhibits. You’re welcome!”

The next morning they tour some of Davis’s many public gardens before going to the train station for the ride back to Mountain View. The trip goes quickly, Donna gazing out the window again, and Cameron scribbling in her notebook and looking through her new books and brochures. She’s surprised to realize that she’s sad that their adventure is over, but is happy to get back to work the next day. 

‘A trip to Davis’ becomes Cameron and Donna’s shorthand for ‘I need a productive work break,’ and, naturally, Donna makes as many jokes about ‘sitting on a fist’* as she possibly can; Cameron pretends to be annoyed by it, and looks forward to their next trip, dreams about owls, and looks up local wildlife rehab centers to see if they need volunteers.

*I’m not making this up

#belated but i still had fun with it! #you can't convince me that cameron ISN'T secretly terrified that jurassic park will 'come true' some day in the near future #but anyways happy friday night bbs! esp to everyone who really can't risk going on spontaneous trips bc of the pandemic <3 #better living through headcanons! #i've been getting big 'future bird watcher' energy from cam for a while now #just saying! #cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson

[aibidil]

Ray Bradbury, “Dusk in the Robot Museums: The Rebirth of the Imagination,” 1980

For some ten years now, I have been writing a long narrative poem about a small boy in the near future who runs into an audio-animatronic museum, veers away from the right portico marked Rome, passes a door marked Alexandria, and enters across a sill where a sign lettered Greece points in across a meadow.

The boy runs over the artificial grass and comes upon Plato, Socrates and perhaps Euripides seated at high noon under an olive tree sipping wine and eating bread and honey and speaking truths.

The boy hesitates and then addresses Plato:

"How goes it with the Republic?"

"Sit down, boy," says Plato, "and I'll tell you."

The boy sits. Plato tells. Socrates steps in from time to time. Euripides does a scene from one of his plays.

Along the way, the boy might well ask a question which hovered in all of our minds the past few decades:

"How come the United States, the country of Ideas on the March, for so long neglected fantasy and science fiction? Why is it that only during the past thirty years attention is being paid?"

Another question from the boy might well be:

"Who is responsible for the change?

"Who has taught the teachers and the librarians to pull up their socks, sit straight, and take notice?

"Simultaneously, which group in our country has backed off from abstraction and moved art back in the direction of pure illustration?"

Since I am neither dead nor a robot, and Plato-as-audioanimatronic lecturer might not be programmed to respond, let me answer as best I can.

The answer is: the students. The young people. The children.

They have led the revolution in reading and painting.

For the first time in the history of art and teaching, the children have become the teachers. Before our time, knowledge came down from the top of the pyramid to the broad base where the students survived as best they could. The gods spoke and the children listened.

But, lo! gravity reverses itself. The massive pyramid turns like a melting iceberg, until the boys and girls are on top. The base of the pyramid now teaches.

How did it happen? After all, back in the twenties and thirties, there were no science-fiction books in the curricula of schools anywhere. There were few in the libraries. Only once or twice a year did a responsible publisher dare to publish one or two books which could be designated as speculative fiction.

If you went into the average library as you motored across America in 1932, 1945, or 1953 you would have found:

No Edgar Rice Burroughs.

No L. Frank Baum and no Oz.

In 1958 or 1962 you would have found no Asimov, no Heinlein, no Van Vogt, and, er, no Bradbury.

Here and there, perhaps one book or two by the above. For the rest: a desert.

What were the reasons for this?

Among librarians and teachers there was then, and there still somewhat dimly persists, an idea, a notion, a concept that only Fact should be eaten with your Wheaties. Fantasy? That's for the Fire Birds. Fantasy, even when it takes science-fictional forms, which it often does, is dangerous. It is escapist. It is daydreaming. It has nothing to do with the world and the world's problems.

So said the snobs who did not know themselves as snobs.

So the shelves lay empty, the books untouched in publishers' bins, the subject untaught.

Comes the Evolution. The survival of that species called Child. The children, dying of starvation, hungry for ideas which lay all about in this fabulous land, locked into machines and architecture, struck out on their own. What did they do?

They walked into classrooms in Waukesha and Peoria and Neepawa and Cheyenne and Moose Jaw and Redwood City and placed a gentle bomb on teacher's desk. Instead of an apple it was Asimov.

"What's that?" the teacher asked, suspiciously.

"Try it. It's good for you," said the students.

"No thanks."

"Try it," said the students. "Read the first page. If you don't like it, stop." And the clever students turned and went away.

The teachers (and the librarians, later) put off reading, kept the book around the house for a few weeks and then, late one night, tried the first paragraph.

And the bomb exploded.

They not only read the first but the second paragraph, the second and third pages, the fourth and fifth chapters.

"My God!" they cried, almost in unison, "these damned books are about something!"

"Good Lord!" they cried, reading a second book, "there are Ideas here!"

"Holy Smoke!" they babbled, on their way through Clarke, heading into Heinlein, emerging from Sturgeon, "these books are-ugly word-relevant!"

"Yes!" shouted the chorus of kids starving in the yard. "Oh, my, yes!"

And the teachers began to teach, and discovered an amazing thing: Students who had never wanted to read before suddenly were galvanized, pulled up their socks, and began to read and quote Ursula Le Guin. Kids who had never read so much as one pirate's obituary in their lives were suddenly turning pages with their tongues, ravening for more.

Librarians were stunned to find that science-fiction books were not only being borrowed in the tens of thousands, but stolen and never returned!

"Where have we been?" the librarians and the teachers asked each other, as the Prince kissed them awake. "What's in these books that makes them as irresistible as Cracker Jack?"

The History of Ideas.

The children wouldn't have said it in so many words. They only sensed it and read it and loved it. The kids sensed, if they could not speak it, that the first science-fiction writers were cavemen who were trying to figure out the first sciences-which were what? How to capture fire. What to do about that lout of a mammoth hanging around outside the cave. How to play dentist to the sabre-tooth tiger and turn him into a house-cat.

Pondering those problems and possible sciences, the first cavemen and women drew science-fiction dreams on the cave walls. Scribbles in soot blueprinting possible strategies. Illustrations of mammoths, tigers, fires: how to solve? How to turn sciencefiction (problem solving) into science-fact (problem solved).

Some few brave ones ran out of the cave to be stomped by the mammoth, toothed by the tiger, scorched by the bestial fire that lived on trees and devoured wood. Some few finally returned to draw on the walls the triumph of the mammoth knocked like a hairy cathedral to earth, the tiger toothless, and the fire tamed and brought within the cave to light their nightmares and warm their souls.

The children sensed, if they could not speak, that the entire history of mankind is problem solving, or science fiction swallowing ideas, digesting them, and excreting formulas for survival. You can't have one without the other. No fantasy, no reality. No studies concerning loss, no gain. No imagination, no will. No impossible dreams: No possible solutions.

The children sensed, if they could not say, that fantasy, and its robot child science fiction, is not escape at all. But a circling round of reality to enchant it and make it behave. What is an airplane, after all, but a circling of reality, an approach to gravity which says: Look, with my magic machine, I defy you. Gravity be gone. Distance, stand aside. Time, stand still, or reverse, as I finally outrace the sun around the world in, by God! look! plane/jet/rocket—80 minutes!

The children guessed, if they did not whisper it, that all science fiction is an attempt to solve problems by pretending to look the other way.

In another place I have described this literary process as Perseus confronted by Medusa. Gazing at Medusa's image in his bronze shield, pretending to look one way, Perseus reaches back over his shoulder and severs Medusa's head. So science fiction pretends at futures in order to cure sick dogs lying in today's road. Indirection is everything. Metaphor is the medicine.

Children love cataphracts, though do not name them thusly. A cataphract is only a special Persian on a specially bred horse, the combination of which threw back the Roman legions some long while ago. Problem solving. Problem: massive Roman armies on foot. Science fiction dreams: cataphract/man-on-horseback. Romans dispersed. Problem solved. Science fiction becomes scientific fact.

Problem: botulism. Science fiction dreams: to someday produce a container which would preserve food, prevent death. Science-fictional dreamers: Napoleon and his technicians. Dream become fact: the invention of the Tin Can. Outcome: millions alive today who would have otherwise writhed and died.

So, it seems, we are all science-fictional children dreaming ourselves into new ways of survival. We are the reliquaries of all time. Instead of putting saints' bones by in crystal and gold jars, to be touched by the faithful in the following centuries, we put by voices and faces, dreams and impossible dreams on tape, on records, in books, on tv, in films. Man the problem solver is that only because he is the Idea Keeper. Only by finding technological ways to save time, keep time, learn from time, and grow into solutions, have we survived into and through this age toward even better ones. Are we polluted? We can unpollute ourselves. Are we crowded? We can de-mob ourselves. Are we alone? Are we sick? The hospitals of the world are better places since TV came to visit, hold hands, take away half the curse of illness and isolation.

Do we want the stars? We can have them. Can we borrow cups of fire from the sun? We can and must and light the world.

Everywhere we look: problems. Everywhere we further deeply look: solutions. The children of men, the children of time, how can they not be fascinated with these challenges? Thus: science fiction and its recent history.

On top of which, as mentioned earlier on, the young people have tossed bombs into your nearest corner art gallery, your downtown art museum.

They have walked through the halls and dozed off at the modern scene as represented by sixty-odd years of abstraction super-abstracting itself until it vanished up its own backside. Empty canvases. Empty minds. No concepts. Sometimes no color. No ideas that would interest a performing flea at a dog circus.

"Enough!" cried the children. "Let there be fantasy. Let there be science-fiction light." Let illustration be reborn.

Let the Pre-Raphaelites re-clone themselves and proliferate!

And it was so.

And because the children of the Space Age, and the sons and daughters of Tolkien wanted their fictional dreams sketched and painted in illustrative terms, the ancient art of story-telling, as acted out by your caveman or your Fra Angelico or your Dante Gabriel Rossetti was reinvented as yet the second giant pyramid turned end for end, and education ran from the base into the apex, and the old order was reversed.

Hence your Double Revolution in reading, in teaching Literature and pictorial Art.

Hence, by osmosis, the Industrial Revolution and the Electronic and Space Ages have finally seeped into the blood, bone, marrow, heart, flesh and mind of the young, who as teachers teach us what we should have known all along.

That Truth again: the History of Ideas, which is all that science fiction ever has been. Ideas birthing themselves into fact, dying, only to reinvent new dreams and ideas to be reborn in yet more fascinating shapes and forms, some of them permanent, all of them promising Survival.

I hope we will not get too serious here, for seriousness is the Red Death if we let it move too freely amongst us. Its freedom is our prison and our defeat and death. A good idea should worry us like a dog. We should not, in turn, worry it into the grave, smother it with intellect, pontificate it into snoozing, kill it with the death of a thousand analytical slices.

Let us remain childlike and not childish in our 20-20 vision, borrowing such telescopes, rockets, or magic carpets as may be needed to hurry us along to miracles of physics as well as dream.

The Double Revolution continues. And there are more, invisible, revolutions to come. There will always be problems. Thank God for that. And solutions. Thank God for that. And tomorrow mornings in which to seek them. Praise Allah and fill the libraries and art galleries of the world with Martians, elves, goblins, astronauts, and librarians and teachers on Alpha Centauri who are busy telling the kids not to read science fiction or fantasy: "It'll turn your brains to mush!"

"Go, children. Run and read. Read and run. Show and tell. Spin another pyramid on its nose. Turn another world upsidedown. Knock the soot off my brain. Repaint the Sistine Chapel inside my skull. Laugh and think. Dream and learn and build."

"Run, boys! Run, girls! Run!"

And with such good advice, the kids will run.

And the Republic will be saved.

#ray bradbury #dusk in the robot museums #science fiction #genre vs literature #fantasy #sci fi #sci fi fantasy #essay

[partnersrelief]

The 2023 Report Card: Middle East

Photo:  Two students in the Phoenix Learning Center math class, Domiz Camp, Kurdistan Region of Iraq.

It's time for our 2023 Middle East report card!

:: DRUM - ROLL ::

372,473 people were helped, with an additional 132,613 reached in the earthquake response. Over half a million people in the Middle East were loved in tangible ways in 2023!!

1.

Community dialogue

sessions can change the future for generations.*Nara is from Nineveh and although she wanted to be an architectural engineer, the customs in her village led her to an arranged marriage at 16 years old. After attending a Sustainable Peace Foundation community dialogue session, she started encouraging her friends to complete their high school education and that further study can help strengthen their community.

*Name changed for privacy and security.

2.

The last seven

years of Sozan’s eleven years of life, she has lived in a tent. She had felt alone, but now, she attends activities run by our partner, Inhalation of Hope.

“Our teachers were always guiding us through how to be better and be successful in school, how not to let people use us, and how we can keep ourselves safe from harassment. I also participated in math and Arabic classes. During these months of activities, I learned how to plan for my future studies and how to prepare for my education. The sessions with my teachers helped me to think positively and get rid of negative thoughts about my days…now I can deal [interact] with my friends and enjoy my time in a safe space.”

~ Sozan, Iraq

3.

Life skills

training is an upwardly mobilizing piece of the EmpowerME program, and when your world has been thrown upside-down, sometimes it can mean all the world to have help to turn it rightside-up. When Rwaida’s husband was forced to join the military, and their once-quiet neighborhood started being patrolled by tanks, they fled to Domiz Camp, in the Kurdistan region of Iraq. She attended Life Skills Training through EmpowerME and learned about money management. She purchased her own sewing machine and is now designing, mending, and sewing clothes for neighbors. She hopes to hire women in her community, to give them a way to support their families.

4.

Women tell

us how they feel about the Feminine Health Training and Feminine Hygiene kits distributed through Empower ME:

“I love the kits! They are comfortable and feel healthy to use.” “I like that the pads are washable and can be used many times to save money.” “I learned a lot about good hygiene and how to keep my body clean to protect against infections.” “I really liked the section on self-defense. So good.” “[I] learned how to be brave.” “Made me realize how important females are in society.” “Please, keep giving such training – it is so useful.”

5.

Snapshots

because there’s more good news.

Displaced families living in shelters in Al-Hasakah were without food; which is why this community sprang into action and funded food kits containing sugar, rice, burgle, olive oil, tea, spaghetti, chicken broth, and lunch meat.

The Sustainable Peace Foundation utilizes many methods to bring about healing from trauma; here, youth from Mosul are learning to create art.

So much happens at the Phoenix Learning Center in the Kurdistan region of Iraq; one of them is an English class for this local girl.

Motivated knitters, and our friends at Purl Soho, created an income for families in Dawidya Camp, and warmth for children in northern Iraq and Syria.

As displacement increases in Northeast Syria, the need for rehabilitated schools increase. Getting kids back into school is a priority for parents, and to all of us.

Al-Hol Camp is a scary place - especially if you are a child. That’s why we love the child friendly play space, where kids can come, create, make friends, and be, you know, kids.

Your love made this possible.

When you gave, we went!

Yay, you, and this incredible report card!!

One, two, three cheers,

Your friends at Partners.

Donate Now

#iraq #syria #partners #toloveistoact #partnersrelief #kurdistan #yazidi #yezidi #refugees #conflict #syrianrefugees #arttherapy #womenshealth #education

[bestentours11]

Top 7 Things to Do in Seychelles Tour Package for Tourists

Seychelles, an archipelago of 115 islands in the Indian Ocean, is renowned for its stunning natural beauty, pristine beaches, and vibrant marine life. For tourists visiting Seychelles, there's a plethora of activities and attractions to explore, ensuring an unforgettable experience. Whether you're seeking relaxation on idyllic beaches or adventure in the great outdoors, Seychelles has something for everyone. Here are the top seven things to do that should be on your itinerary when booking a Seychelles tour package.

1. Relax on Pristine Beaches

One of the main draws of Seychelles is its pristine beaches with powdery white sands and crystal-clear waters. Anse Source d'Argent on La Digue Island and Anse Lazio on Praslin Island are particularly famous for their beauty. Included in Seychelles tour packages, spending a day lounging on these beaches, swimming in the turquoise waters, and soaking up the sun is an essential part of any Seychelles vacation.

2. Snorkel or Dive in Marine Parks

Seychelles boasts some of the most biodiverse marine ecosystems in the world, making it a paradise for snorkeling and diving enthusiasts. Included in Seychelles tour packages, visitors can explore colorful coral reefs teeming with marine life in marine parks like Sainte Anne Marine National Park and Baie Ternay Marine National Park. Dive among schools of tropical fish, encounter sea turtles and reef sharks, and marvel at the beauty of underwater landscapes.

3. Visit Vallée de Mai Nature Reserve

Vallée de Mai Nature Reserve on Praslin Island is a UNESCO World Heritage site and home to the iconic coco de mer palm, which produces the largest seeds in the plant kingdom. Included in Seychelles tour packages, visitors can take guided nature walks through the lush forest, spotting rare birds and other endemic species along the way. Explore scenic trails, learn about the unique flora and fauna, and witness the majestic beauty of this pristine wilderness.

4. Explore Victoria, the Capital City

Victoria, the capital city of Seychelles on Mahé Island, offers a mix of colonial architecture, vibrant markets, and cultural landmarks. Included in Seychelles tour packages, visitors can explore attractions like the Victoria Clock Tower, Sir Selwyn Selwyn-Clarke Market, and the Seychelles National Museum. Wander through bustling streets, sample Creole cuisine at local eateries, and shop for souvenirs at craft markets.

5. Hike through Morne Seychellois National Park

Morne Seychellois National Park, located on Mahé Island, is the largest national park in Seychelles and offers breathtaking hiking trails through lush rainforests and mist-covered mountains. Included in Seychelles tour packages, visitors can embark on guided hikes to scenic viewpoints like Morne Blanc and Copolia Trail, enjoying panoramic views of the island and surrounding ocean. Encounter rare endemic species of flora and fauna along the way, making it a memorable adventure for nature lovers.

6. Visit La Digue Island

La Digue Island is famous for its laid-back atmosphere, picturesque beaches, and traditional ox-cart transportation. Included in Seychelles tour packages, visitors can explore attractions like Anse Source d'Argent, one of the most photographed beaches in the world, and L'Union Estate, a historic coconut plantation. Rent a bicycle to explore the island at your own pace, stopping to admire stunning viewpoints and interact with friendly locals.

7. Indulge in Creole Cuisine

Seychellois cuisine, influenced by African, Indian, and European culinary traditions, is a highlight of any visit to Seychelles. Included in Seychelles tour packages, visitors can savor mouthwatering dishes like grilled fish, octopus curry, and coconut-infused seafood rice. Sample Creole snacks like fish samosas and breadfruit chips at local markets, and don't forget to try the refreshing tropical fruit juices and cocktails.

Conclusion

Seychelles tour packages offer tourists the opportunity to explore the breathtaking beauty and diverse attractions of this tropical paradise. Whether you're relaxing on pristine beaches, snorkeling in marine parks, or hiking through lush rainforests, Seychelles promises unforgettable experiences and cherished memories for travelers of all interests. With its stunning natural landscapes, vibrant culture, and warm hospitality, Seychelles is the perfect destination for an unforgettable vacation in the Indian Ocean.

#Seychelles tour packages #Seychelles travel packages #Seychelles trip packages

[weinerlaw11]

Historical Buildings In Old Town, San Diego, CA

Old Town San Diego is a famous historic district and state park. It has a rich history, great cultural scenes, and well-preserved buildings featuring classic architecture. The park is also called the “Birthplace of California,” where the Spanish colonization of California began. Here are some historical buildings worth visiting in the park.

Casa De Estudillo In Old Town

Casa de Estudillo was built in 1825 and became the home of Antonio de Estudillo, a Spanish aristocrat. It has a great view of the park and is historically famous for being a refuge for women and children in 1846.

You’ll enjoy its original building. However, parts like doors, windows, and tiles have all been renovated since the 1887 caretaker sold all the original parts. Through funds from the Spreckles family, architect Hazel W. Waterman renovated the building in 1910 and furnished it with period furniture with an overlooking courtyard.

Robinson Rose House

Robinson Rose House is a house museum, and it is also known as “The Visitor Center.” It was built in 1853 and serves different important events. It became an operating room, prison, school, court, newsroom, private home, and shop.

The man behind this building is James Robinson, a Masonic Lodge's first member in San Diego. Robinson’s house is quite intriguing due to its vibe, so this site is for you if you want a thrill. It also has some small shops where you can purchase and explore.

James McCoy House

Just behind the Robinson House is James McCoy House, built in 1869. It’s a slightly isolated site in the park and one of the best-preserved buildings. It became the home of the first California sheriff. Although this house is just a reconstruction of the original one, it’s built with great details.

You’ll also enjoy the volunteers wearing period clothing inside the house. Many visitors love the 1800s luxurious vibe of the house, with lots of information throughout the buildings. If you’re looking for a free museum, James McCoy House deserves to be on your list.

Casa De Lopez

One of the first Spanish settlers in San Diego was Juan Francisco Lopez, who built Casa de Lopez in 1835. It’s popular for its nickname “Long House” due to its size. After 11 years, it became the home of Juan Matias Moreno, the secretary of the last Mexican governor of California. 

It was rebuilt; surprisingly, you can find a restaurant where you can eat rice, beans, pernil, and mofongo.

Wells Fargo Museum

Wells Fargo Museum is a small yet interesting site to see. The sightings inside revolve around the traditional and old process of transporting products or valuables. It retells the economic development and history of California during the 19th century. 

Many visitors love the museum’s interesting displays, especially the original gold nuggets from the California Gold Rush miners. Although this building promotes Wells Fargo, you can still learn more about money and banks and how Wells Fargo played a role in this business. 

Cosmopolitan Hotel And Restaurant

Cosmopolitan Hotel and Restaurant dates back to the rich 1827 history. It’s the oldest San Diego Hotel built by Don Juan Bandini and has served different uses ever since. Fortunately, it has returned to its primary purpose and function today: a hotel and resto. 

Many visitors love the combination of the restaurant and casino inside and their super friendly staff. The good thing is that you can even rent the whole courtyard for special events like weddings or birthday celebrations.

Summary

One way to experience San Diego’s rich history is to visit old buildings that became a testament to the town’s past life. Parks and museums go hand-in-hand in delivering the cultural vibe of California. If you’re looking for great historic sites, these houses and museums are for you.

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[stephengerard24]

Life in the Philippine provinces during the 1930s was characterized by a blend of traditional customs and the influence of colonial rule. Agrarian society prevailed, with most people engaged in farming or fishing. Villages were close-knit communities where extended families often lived together in wooden houses on stilts called "bahay kubo." Daily life revolved around agriculture, with rice as the staple crop, and coconut, sugar, and tobacco as significant cash crops.

Transportation was mainly by foot, horse, or water buffalo-drawn carts, as roads were often unpaved and rough. Electricity and modern amenities were scarce, with kerosene lamps providing light at night. Education was limited, with only a few schools in rural areas, and many children helped their families with household chores or farm work instead of attending school.

Social life centered around church activities, fiestas, and communal gatherings. Baranggay was still called barrio during that time. Spanish influence was still evident, with Catholicism being the dominant religion and Spanish-style architecture seen in churches and houses. Despite the challenges of poverty and limited resources, the people of the provinces maintained a strong sense of community and resilience, relying on mutual support and traditional practices to navigate daily life.

[solsticejrnl]

Quarter :P

Trying to account for 366 days is doable, but I wanna break it into more feasible quarterly stuff. I've had 2 weeks to just be, and I started spring semester a week ago so I've found my footing and groove in my schoolwork. Now, I wanna actually consider the goals I want to achieve by March. I'm thinking off the top of my head about what I want that is feasible if I put the excuses aside and work for it by then.

The first thing that came to mind is fitness. Today I did yoga, which was good. I did it for an hour before my first class. After rotting in bed, I got out of bed, and that's what matters. No gym because I didn't wake up early enough and the machines were taken when I got back to my dorm. That's an excuse. I need to start 3x a week gym and daily yoga and stretching until I have enough endurance to add in pilates exercises. I KNOW what I want to look like and I don't think I truly have it in me to keep being the one staring and wishing I were someone else. we gotta switch the roles, and quickly. my goal is temi ojora. yes I have an unhealthy fixation on her, but she's just so aspirational. she runs track so maybe its her, maybe its track body but I need to get my ass up rn if this is my goal.

Like I don't even want to compare, but she stands out physically among people, and I wanna do the same! I have the platform: long limbs, long torso, long legs, straight shoulders etc etc etc I just need to get to work.

The next is nutrition. Now, today I ate one meal bc I'm busy and I'm trying to downsize my appetite forreal. I'm trying the whole 80% health and nutrition and 20% indulgence thing rn and honestly just thugging out my cravings. no liquid cals, no crazy sweet treats, no greasy fast food, no junk snacks. my chest hurt writing that bc i ate a burger and 2 cookies yesterday, and i could honestly conquer the world at that point ughhh. but today the dining served literal slop so i ate white rice with spinach and pulled pork just so i could have flavor on the rice and I intentionally didn't finish. but I'm doing better with nutrition lowkey. I'm tall asf I burn mad calories anyways.

SCHOOL. I'm doing this project, and it's lowkey crushing me. I have a civil engineering class and architecture ones. I just want to chillllll bro. But I want the life any way I might as well be willing to think. I'm on the dean's list already. I wanna get on the president's list this semester, so I'm trying to get there by all means.

I'm tired of being broke so I'm getting a job. I already applied and got a callback so I'm actually bringing them my documents tmr. i just want my first-ever paycheck bro. I feel soooo bad spending bc I have no money ever bc I only get an allowance. if I had a job I could get credit and do things and actually feel grown.

I've been feeling things and the things are feeling like I'm missing something. I feel like I need to do more inner work. I place too much value on people outside of me and look for attention in all the wrong places, I stay in situations due to attachment, I'm not self-aware, and I need to get myself together and find motivation out of mediocrity. I'm gonna go back to therapy and have actual goals for it instead of just venting and leaving.

So yeah this quarter is about me: my mind, my body, my money, and my relationship to myself and to work and to my situation.

if it is a situation i can correct, then wtf am I waiting for. My actions simply must align with my goals.