“Haha remember when murder-hornets were gonna be a thing? What a nothingburger.”
Yes, because the Washington state government activated like a sleeper-cell and ruthlessly, systematically hunted them down and annihilated them.
“Y2K came to nothing amirite?”
Yes because an army of software engineers working around the clock, losing sleep, and busting ass till the last minute prevented it from happening.
“Remember the hole in the ozone layer?”
You mean the one that was fixed through rigorous world wide government action?
One of the root problems of our society is a refusal or inability by media to articulate that all those “it’s gonna be an apocalypse” disasters were not disasters because we collectively did something about them.
The good news is this is actually quite correctable. I maintain my firm belief that we as humans are capable of solving almost all of our problems, when we decide to do so.
And I still think that’s going to happen. I don’t know when or how, but I do know that abandoning hope won’t help bring it about.
And I refuse to let the cynics own a chunk of my heart.
“In those moments when we don’t think we’re smart enough or pretty enough or skinny enough or successful enough, or basically just not enough, I had a woman say to me, ‘Just know you will never be enough, but you can know the value of your worth if you just put down a measuring stick,‘” she shared.
ultimately the truth about frankenstein is that we are all grotesque amalgamations of the best and worst parts of everyone who came before us. and sometimes the people who are supposed to love us because of and in spite of this will not. and we can kill them with hammers for that. and i think that’s beautiful
my brother in christ frankenstein is the title of the book
COUNTERPOINT
well i can’t argue with that one
Ah yes, Mary Shelley’s monster.
no mary shelley is the name of the monster not the doctor
common misconception! mary shelley’s monster was actually lord byron
hey chat did you guys know there’s a whole website with informational videos on the rights you hold when interacting with ICE or witnessing interactions with ICE. all written by immigrants and for immigrants. idk man it’d be a shame if people watched these informational videos y'know.
There seem to be two “egg discourse” things going right now, namely
Is it ever okay to help someone crack their egg vs. the “egg prime directive”
Can the term “egg cracking” apply to anything other than transfeminine
My feelings on #1 have been perfectly encapsulated by this post that I just reblogged, namely that it’s important to be supportive of people through their gender journey without insisting to someone what they must be.
And for #2, well, the “egg cracking is because chicks come from eggs” is a pure fiction. This is apparently the origin of the term, via the lovely Nanoraptor:
Self Portrait, July 2010 or: Rebirth
Until the point I transitioned in my mid 20s in Nineteen Mumblesomething, I lived my life as the little microraptor in an egg. I was the shell, showed the world only the shell, and it was all anyone saw. I knew who I was on the inside and what I wanted when I was five, eight, ten, sixteen, twenty one. I have firm dateable memories from those times of needing to change, needing to transition, needing to struggle, and break out of the egg.
And then one December I laid on my bed in the summer heat, life going nowhere, and I let those thoughts come up again, the deepest most comfortable *knowing* who I am. I planned, and remembered, and searched for info. I made the phonecalls. The gender programs, the gender centre in Sydney, the options, the hormones. I cracked. I knew no-one else transsexual at the time barring a few celebrities. I don’t know if I could even say I was directly inspired by any. Carlotta, Bernadette, Chi-Chi, Dame Edna. All showgirls, all nothing like me, but all paved the way to make what’s honestly a pretty conservative and bogan culture in this country kind of accepting, despite its heavy stereotypical masculinity. I weighed up whether it was better to be seen as a kindly joke and get to be more me, or stay within and regret. I cracked.
Once an egg cracks, there’s no going back. There’s a hole and you can breathe. There’s a hole and a few lucky people close to me get to see in and see I am her. Every step after that is confronting. Scary to keep on breathing through, but easy to do as you tumbles out of the shell. The being inside, she needs nourishment like the air she can now breathe.
My egg may have cracked in the 90s, but last year on another hot December day on the evening of the 8th, it happened again. Well over a decade past transition with HRT and surgeries behind me, depression and anxiety were still clinging to me as common visitors, and something clicked. I’ve never been able to describe it as anything less than a few moments of complete joy, all-encompassing happiness in a bright flash of light that I knew I’d created myself.
It hasn’t stopped. I just had to know I could create my own joy, my own mood, and like the first time around, once it started it didn’t stop. I haven’t been depressed since, haven’t suffered that hell since. That’s this image. The microraptor whose egg cracked, grew stronger, and then became tough enough to be reborn.
A total fuckup of mixed metaphors pulled out of my arse but gods, it suits.
(Edit: Since then I’ve helped crack a few more eggs. When you go through hell and come out the other side, you you learn to recognise the same in other people. Those shells are thinner than you think, and only needed me to be a different inspiration than some glammed up showgirl. I could just be the quiet artist, the nerd who’s unsure of herself, the flannelette-wearing dyke, the ordinary jeans & tshirt girl who just tells a friend “Hey it’s not like I was supremely confident and went into it guns blazing and out and proud from day one. One day I just looked a few things up, took steps after that, and it turned into the best thing I ever did…”
It has nothing to do with bad gender-normative puns.
There seem to be two “egg discourse” things going right now, namely
Is it ever okay to help someone crack their egg vs. the “egg prime directive”
Can the term “egg cracking” apply to anything other than transfeminine
My feelings on #1 have been perfectly encapsulated by this post that I just reblogged, namely that it’s important to be supportive of people through their gender journey without insisting to someone what they must be.
And for #2, well, the “egg cracking is because chicks come from eggs” is a pure fiction. This is apparently the origin of the term, via the lovely Nanoraptor:
Self Portrait, July 2010 or: Rebirth
Until the point I transitioned in my mid 20s in Nineteen Mumblesomething, I lived my life as the little microraptor in an egg. I was the shell, showed the world only the shell, and it was all anyone saw. I knew who I was on the inside and what I wanted when I was five, eight, ten, sixteen, twenty one. I have firm dateable memories from those times of needing to change, needing to transition, needing to struggle, and break out of the egg.
And then one December I laid on my bed in the summer heat, life going nowhere, and I let those thoughts come up again, the deepest most comfortable *knowing* who I am. I planned, and remembered, and searched for info. I made the phonecalls. The gender programs, the gender centre in Sydney, the options, the hormones. I cracked. I knew no-one else transsexual at the time barring a few celebrities. I don’t know if I could even say I was directly inspired by any. Carlotta, Bernadette, Chi-Chi, Dame Edna. All showgirls, all nothing like me, but all paved the way to make what’s honestly a pretty conservative and bogan culture in this country kind of accepting, despite its heavy stereotypical masculinity. I weighed up whether it was better to be seen as a kindly joke and get to be more me, or stay within and regret. I cracked.
Once an egg cracks, there’s no going back. There’s a hole and you can breathe. There’s a hole and a few lucky people close to me get to see in and see I am her. Every step after that is confronting. Scary to keep on breathing through, but easy to do as you tumbles out of the shell. The being inside, she needs nourishment like the air she can now breathe.
My egg may have cracked in the 90s, but last year on another hot December day on the evening of the 8th, it happened again. Well over a decade past transition with HRT and surgeries behind me, depression and anxiety were still clinging to me as common visitors, and something clicked. I’ve never been able to describe it as anything less than a few moments of complete joy, all-encompassing happiness in a bright flash of light that I knew I’d created myself.
It hasn’t stopped. I just had to know I could create my own joy, my own mood, and like the first time around, once it started it didn’t stop. I haven’t been depressed since, haven’t suffered that hell since. That’s this image. The microraptor whose egg cracked, grew stronger, and then became tough enough to be reborn.
A total fuckup of mixed metaphors pulled out of my arse but gods, it suits.
(Edit: Since then I’ve helped crack a few more eggs. When you go through hell and come out the other side, you you learn to recognise the same in other people. Those shells are thinner than you think, and only needed me to be a different inspiration than some glammed up showgirl. I could just be the quiet artist, the nerd who’s unsure of herself, the flannelette-wearing dyke, the ordinary jeans & tshirt girl who just tells a friend “Hey it’s not like I was supremely confident and went into it guns blazing and out and proud from day one. One day I just looked a few things up, took steps after that, and it turned into the best thing I ever did…”
It has nothing to do with bad gender-normative puns.
hopefully the last thing i ever have to say about egg shit is that that the response to someone entrusting you with their identity crisis should be helping them figure out what they want, not what you want, and then helping them pursue that
Good/neutral:
“Hm, that sounds similar to how I thought before realizing I was trans, do you think you might be?”
“Have you ever taken an am I trans quiz? How did the results make you feel?”
“Instead of stressing about labels, what do you WANT to do?”
“Have you ever tried wearing skirts/suits? Have you ever tried makeup/fake beards/etc? Have you ever tried tucking/packing/binding/form wear? Would you like to?”
“Would you want to try a different name?”
“If you could look like anyone, who would it be? Can we try things to replicate that?”
“Have you ever tried a boy/girl filter on x app? Do you wanna see how you’d look?”
“Can I give you some stuff to read/watch about x trans/nb identit(ies)?”
“Here is an author/speaker/actor/YTer I look up to for x identity”
“Do you have questions for me?”
Bad:
“You’re x.”
Referring to someone with pronouns they do not (possibly yet) use
“You’re in denial, it’s clear you’re x.”
“You’re such an egg.”
“When are you gonna admit that you’re x?”
“I don’t think you’re y, you must be x.”
“Pick a new name so we don’t have to call you ___”
“You can’t be both, pick one.”
Referring to someone as ‘half-transitioned’ or not 'fully transitioned’ or suggesting setbacks are 'detransition’ and that detransition is the worst thing that can happen
Trying to get them to come out to other people before they are ready
Telling anyone and everyone about these conversations/outing them to people
Shaming them for being closeted or 'slow’ or indecisive
By all means, talk about yourself and your experience! Suggest things to try without pressure. Draw comparisons! BUT ALWAYS LEAVE THE DECISION IN THEIR HANDS!!!! YOU CANNOT MAKE THIS CHOICE FOR THEM! MORPHEUS DIDN’T FORCEFEED NEO THE PILL!!!!!!
There’s something so uniquely terrifying about memory issues. I feel like my self is slipping away from me.
Here’s the thing I feel like a lot of folks don’t get: I’m not trying to forget what you said. Honestly, I really tried not to. I can’t control what I do and don’t remember—forgetting things just happens. It’s annoying for you, I know, but for me it’s distressing as hell and when you make a big deal out of it rather than just reminding me you make me feel ashamed. I’ll remember that, at least.
It costs you nothing to be kind to people with memory problems. Please. It’s scary enough without people treating memory lapses as a personal failing.
Whenever people ask me “why don’t you know xyz, it’s so popular” well see it’s because
The world doesn’t revolve around one country. What is popular over there might not be the same in another country and it’s totally normal but pop culture for example is a global thing like most people know Ariana Grande. This is just an example.
Yeah pop culture is universal and most societies like the same stuff, just like how everyone knows who Zhou Xuan, Dhanush, and Mia Guissé are and we all know and love the classic holiday season movie Al-Risâlah
Yeah, Grande Familia is a classic sitcom for all people and the movie Auto da Compadecida being a contemporary classic, with Cidade de Deus being a heavy but accirate depiction of the violence the people of Brazil go through. Everyone knows actors like Pedro Cardoso, Rafael Portugal and Fernanda Montenegro
The most classic sitcom is Świat Według Kiepskich and honestly I am appaled that some people don’t know it, it’s basic knowledge! I personally liked Miodowe Lata. Haha Klan has over 4500 episodes how have you never heard of it?
Everyone knows Magda Gessler and Robert Makłowicz, they are iconic! Pop culture is a popular thing, so popular singers like Czesław Niemen or Maryla Rodowicz are known by everyone. Yeah you know the actor Karolak? He plays in all the romcoms! Haha. I almost forgot about Żebrowski, hes such an icon, having played Geralt from Rivia!
this is really interesting in how it frames disability/low spoons/etc as not being a series of internal symptoms, but specifically a situation in which daily tasks increase in complexity. for example i used to be able to wash the dishes normally. but now mental and physical issues combine to make that situation have a lot of prequalifications (do I have time, energy, how long can I do it without being sore the next day) that means many more steps are involved in getting that single physical act of washing a dish to be done.
I’m trying to remember the quote. “On a good day, doing laundry is three steps. On a bad day, the first step is getting out of bed.”
The US government has officially declared ‘radical pro-transgender groups’ to be domestic terrorist organizations. This will certain remain for the duration of this administration, and may hold into the next.
This opens the door for not only the targeting of trans individuals, but also trans communities, the broader queer community, and even allies and family members of transgender people.
Everyone, be safe. Look out for each other. Cherish small wins, and moments of joy.
Surviving is more than grand acts of defiance. Living is in the small, the everyday, the imperceptible. Living is holding a hand, or being kind— little things that you don’t remember the day after. Love each other, and love yourself in equal measure. Tyrants are brittle things. Never has a dark time failed to end.
And before anyone accuses me of overreacting, let me be clear. The last line of the Presidential Foreword in the new policy document literally reads, “We will find you and we will kill you.”
Did You Know: if you get to the airport early enough in the morning, you can look through the big windows and watch them shovel oats and alfalfa into big troughs for the planes
I know it looks cute, but the airplanes only line up for food when their enclosure isn’t enriching enough.
that might be true of smaller airports where the planes spend more time on the ground, but at large international airports, the planes get tons of enrichment from socializing with one another and lots of exercise flying, so it’s actually fine that their enclosures aren’t much more than a space for them to rest.
For those with an interest in learning more about the domestication of airplanes, I am reminded of this thread by @kedreeva:
Also nowhere in the original post did it say the planes were lining up?? literally just that their porthands were filling feed troughs?? That’s perfectly normal for working planes at an airport. Like OP said it’s particularly true at a large commercial port, where the planes are not even necessarily there long enough to be put in hangars. They often just get bridged so they can rest and eat while awaiting the next outbound flight.
And before anyone gets persnickety about back to back flights, the big boys especially are both naturally inclined and selectively bred for this. It’s worse for them to sit idle, like trying to make a border collie into a lap dog. Your average 747 (along with many other working breeds) needs that exercise so it doesn’t develop behavior problems related to stress from not enough flying.
They can start nose rubbing until lesions form:
They may start chewing on one another’s wings:
And start wheel grinding, which has caused a lot of problems for landing safely!!
In pretty dire circumstances, they stress themselves so badly they can even spit up emergency equipment if they start to believe they won’t be allowed to fly soon:
(don’t worry, this guy was seen to by a veterinary mechanic, this photo was taken while the mechvet was en route, and it made a full recovery thankfully).
Planes in the wild spend up to 85% of their time in flight or preparing for it; there are even species that prefer to sleep on the wing! What I imagine Dandynewt misunderstood is that when planes get older and start to either lose the ability or the energy to fly like they could when young, their grounded airfields have to have enough enrichment to make up for the fact they’re not flying (or not as much), and crowding for mealtime in those instances is often an indication of lacking enrichment. But for working planes, feed time between flights is indeed socialization time, so gathering at feed and water locations at an airport is a normal behavior.
Today I was watching a YouTube video in which someone said “I’m just killing time” but the captions said “unaliving time” and I just wanted to curl up in a hole never to be seen again
“Haha remember when murder-hornets were gonna be a thing? What a nothingburger.”
Yes, because the Washington state government activated like a sleeper-cell and ruthlessly, systematically hunted them down and annihilated them.
“Y2K came to nothing amirite?”
Yes because an army of software engineers working around the clock, losing sleep, and busting ass till the last minute prevented it from happening.
“Remember the hole in the ozone layer?”
You mean the one that was fixed through rigorous world wide government action?
One of the root problems of our society is a refusal or inability by media to articulate that all those “it’s gonna be an apocalypse” disasters were not disasters because we collectively did something about them.
The good news is this is actually quite correctable. I maintain my firm belief that we as humans are capable of solving almost all of our problems, when we decide to do so.
And I still think that’s going to happen. I don’t know when or how, but I do know that abandoning hope won’t help bring it about.
And I refuse to let the cynics own a chunk of my heart.
