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February 06 2018


I sing this twice daily lmao


suggestion: when you go on jstor downloading sprees, name your articles, so that this doesn’t happen: 

This post is librarian approved!

I usually go with something like AuthorLastnameYear_TitleKeywords (JSmith2001_ArticleNameConventions) so all the pertinent information is handy.

February 05 2018




“Adulthood is like looking both ways before you cross the street, then getting hit by an airplane.”

“I’m sorry to bring you here like this.”

“Not at all, my dear boy. Not at all.”

“But, you see, I have to know… I have to know, and you’re the only one –”

“I get it,” the old man interrupted me. He puffed his cheeks weakly, like it took him great effort just to breathe, and then he leaned back against the armchair and his eyes turned to the crackling of the fireplace. “Ask away.”

“Well… it’s pretty simple, actually.” I leaned forward. “What’s it like?”

His eyes turned to me, and he almost smiled. “What’s it like?

“Yeah. Life. Growing up. Being old.” I paused. “Well, not that I’m calling you old, I just –”

“It’s okay, dear boy,” he laughed. “I am old. That’s why you brought me here.”

I said nothing. He arranged himself on the armchair like he had all the time in the world. Then his eyes went up to me again. “It's… hard.”

I waited. I knew he wasn’t done.

“It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do, actually” he continued. “Harder than building all this fancy equipment you’ve built. Harder than studying all you’ve studied. Harder than winning all these scientific awards you’ve won so far.” He chuckled. “Nothing prepares you for it.”

“What makes it hard?” I asked. “Is it the responsibilities? The body decaying? What makes growing up so hard?”

“No. It’s not the responsibilities. Growing up is like looking both ways before you cross the street, then getting hit by an airplane.” He lowered his head as if to put his thoughts together, then continued. “It’s the things you don’t expect that catch you by surprise. Sure, it’s scary to have a kid, and to get married, and to ask your boss for a promotion, and all these grown-up stuff we have to pretend we know how to do.”


He seemed surprised. “Yes, pretend. No one really grows up, of course. We put on a face to the world, but at home, three in the morning, all alone watching TV, you’re still sixteen. All of us are.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing more heartbreaking than being a real person and sitting down in front of another real person, and then both of you have to act like fake people. You sit across from someone two years older than you in a job interview and you both say ‘Hello, sir’ and ‘Yes, I also think the Dow Jones has been fluctuating dangerously this last few days’ and ‘Oh, absolutely, the 405 is a nightmare this time of day’. And all along you know you both laugh at poop jokes and fart sounds and you have all these hobbies and interests and you curse and say fuck and shit and asshole. You’re real people. But you act like robots. You have to put on the face, and they have to put on a face, and you have to pretend that nothing in life is ever fun, everything is productivity and seriousness.”

“Is that what makes it hard?” I asked. “That everyone’s just… faking their way through adulthood?”

“No. No, that’s expected. It sucks, but we all know what we’re getting into.” He sighed. “No, what catches you by surprise are the little things about growing up. It’s being stuck in traffic and remembering a day. Any day. A locker room conversation in high school. A teacher. A friend of a friend. Something that happened long enough ago that it could order its own drink. It sneaks up on you, and you look at yourself in the rear view and you think, my God… where did it go? When did I become so old?

“I remember college like it was yesterday. I remember my girlfriends and my friends and they used to drink and talk about sex and hanging out and now they all eat oatmeal and go to funerals. And I do that to, and I like all of that. Well, not going to funerals, but oatmeal. Soap operas. Going to bed at nine. I like it.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I’m still the sixteen year old. I’m still the college kid. My needs and wants have changed, and my body has changed, and my mind has changed, in a way, but I didn’t change. I’m still putting on a face. So when these thoughts sneak up on me – when a flash of a college party or a roadtrip or the feeling of falling asleep in the back of my Dad’s car wells up on me… it breaks me. It breaks me because I don’t think of it fondly. I don’t look at that young kid with affection and nostalgia, I look at him with envy. Envy, because he’s got all of that ahead of him still, and he doesn’t even know how lucky he is. He’s me, we’re the same – but he’s got the good looks and the health and all the years ahead of him, and I’m wasting away in an old apartment. And I hate that kid so much. Every time he sneaks up on me I hate him more.”

I looked down, then up. “What about family? Kids?”

“They are great. They are amazing. But they go away. They’re not you. In the end, you raise your sons and daughters for the world, not for yourself. They have to fall asleep in the back of my car, and go to their college parties and all that… they don’t exist for my benefit. No one exists for my benefit but myself. And I’m much too old to do anything about it.”

I swallowed dry and averted my eyes to the fireplace. The old man leaned forward. “We always get the feeling that the good old days are either behind us or ahead of us. They’re never our own days. We were always born just a bit too late to go to Woodstock or to see Nirvana live or to see the Berlin Wall fall or to party Great Gatsby style in the 20’s. And then we get old and we realize we were born too soon to see the wonders of technology and the world reshaping and blooming into something new and exciting. But the truth is, our Woodstocks were happening all around us as we grew. Our new and exciting world was some old guy’s boring present, and our past will be some spoiled, arrogant kid’s ‘Good old days’. We were just too stupid to realize it when it mattered. So we let it slide away. And then we ended up like me – sad and resentful of our younger selves for all they can still do and we can’t.”

Finally, I got up. I went to the old man and I knelt in front of him. “I’m sorry I brought you over.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I knew you would. After all, I did it, sixty years ago.”

I looked at my own eyes. Despite the wrinkles around them, they still looked pretty much the same. The old man shook his head and sniffed a tear away. “Now let’s go back to your lab so you can send me back to my own time, so I can hate you in peace.”

I hugged my own eighty year old version and leaned away and nodded. “I’ll enjoy it,” I said. “And I’ll know I’m living in the good old days, I promise.”

He got up with difficulty. “No, you won’t,” he said. “The good old days are only ever good when they’re gone. That’s what makes them good. When you’re living through them, they’re just… days.”

He slow-stepped ahead of me towards the lab. Then he spoke without turning his head: “And days go by really fast, man. They go by really fast.”

0718 6274



The Silmarillion, adjusted for honesty.






Okay, but Thayer’s brand witch hazel with rose water is Actual Magic in a bottle, that stuff is fantastic. 

Bronner’s soap is super great! It’s too drying to use on my (combination to slightly dry) face very often but I use it in the shower and also for any clothes that need to be hand washed. It’s made from just plant oils, salt, and water and is biodegradable. It’s also great for spot-treating things you can’t put in the washer right away.

Careful with Neutrogena sunscreen if you skin is super sensitive though. It made me break out something awful, really itchy red patches. Which is sad bc I got it thinking it was the most sensitive-friendly thing.

I use Olay on my face daily (SPF30 I think?) and Coppertone Sensitive when I’m going to be outside.

0747 1264 500




This is the punkest thing I have ever seen in my whole life.

She is right, lying doesn’t count at the library.

Put that last line on my headstone

February 04 2018

















“chuffed doesnt mean what you think it means”


it means exactly what i think it means its just some stupid word that literally has two definitions that mean the opposite thing

what the hell

This makes me really chuffed

This post is quite egregious


Well I’m nonplussed by this whole post.




all of you go to hell

And you wonder why i am boggled at times

These are called contronyms! A word that is its own opposite.

Why the fuck do these exist

One theory is that the sarcastic use of the word became exceedingly prevalent and because another dictionary definition. 

Are you telling me that we were such sarcastic shits it literally changed our language.

speaking as a linguist: yes. that is exactly what happened. isn’t it beautiful.

Here, have a list of contronyms.

Anonymously tell me what time it is there and what you're thinking about.

‘Sound Of Silence’ Begins To Play. In Seconds, Haunting Performance Takes Everyone’s Breath Away







I do not watch figure skating for reasons. This is absolutely beautiful.  They are so well physically matched, they are like one being. Neither tries to outshine the other. Go watch it.

…holy crap. Talk about in sync with each other.

holy shot how even?!

1, this is worth a view because it’s gorgeous skating.

2, someone stop me because I don’t know nearly enough to work my way through an Awaken the Stars ice skating AU.

Besides, only @deadcatwithaflamethrower knows if Django knows how to skate.

STUH-NNING!!!!!!!!! 😩

A-freakin-mazing. Also, finally I get to watch something without the annoying American commentators wittering away.

February 03 2018

0759 e030


We are very excited to be bringing award winning author Nancy Springer as a guest to 221B Con 2018!

Nancy Springer is a lifelong professional fiction writer who has passed the fifty-book milestone, having written that many novels in genres including mythic fantasy, contemporary fiction, magical realism, horror, and mystery – although she did not realize she wrote mystery until she won the Edgar Allan Poe Award from the Mystery Writers of America two years in succession. Her newest book, forthcoming in May, 2018, is THE ODDLING PRINCE, an epic fantasy set in fey Scotland as it never was. But her most popular works, no contest, are a series of short novels about Enola Holmes, Sherlock Holmes’ younger sister. Beginning with THE CASE OF THE MISSING MARQUESS, these six books have been optioned in a major film deal by Legendary Productions. Emmy-nominated young actress Millie Bobby Brown will star in the brilliant, devious and daring role of Enola Holmes. Nancy Springer could not be more thrilled.

0771 ed1c



World’s Smallest Cat: Rusty Spotted Cat |  “He may look like a kitten, he’d still fit in the palm of your hand - but this little male is very nearly fully grown. [..] What he lacks in size… he makes up for in daring.”


0792 3639 500


“Nii-san’s still shorter” > gets rekt

honestly the best nendo purchase i’ve made. pre-ordered them for the parts too! >u

February 02 2018


People talk about how hard long distance relationships are but nobody talks about the struggle of long distance friendships. I would give my left leg right now to just be able to sit in our pjs and watch movies or to just be able to give a big fucking hug. 

February 01 2018

7995 f31d 500




Ziad Nakad Haute Couture | F/W 17/18


it….has pockets?


Yes please I want to be a sparkly star WITH POCKETS

Reposted bymadhatterness madhatterness


More “wtf are humans, please leave the rest of us be” stuff:

Human reactions to fear!

No, I’m not talking about screaming or freezing in one spot and pissing yourself. I’m talking about the weirder, more specific-to-only-humans fear reactions.

Like singing.

Idk how many of you have watched people play horror video games, but a surprising amount of people start narrating what’s going on in a sing-song voice.

Imagine being an alien, walking in a horrific, dark tunnel with these weird gangly creatures, you’re all scared out of your wits and then one of them starts fucking singing.

In a dark cave. While everyone’s terrified.

“ ♫ ~We are all gonna fucking die, this is terrible and I wanna go hooooome~ ♬ ”








My face is having uncontrollable spasms. Great. It hurts really, really, really bad.

I think part of why I have trouble explaining pain to the doctor is when they ask about the pain scale I always think “Well, if someone threw me down a flight of stairs right now or punched me a few times, it would definitely hurt a lot more” so I end up saying a low number. I was reading an article that said that “10” is the most commonly reported number and that is baffling to me. When I woke up from surgery with an 8" incision in my body and I could hardly even speak, I was in the most horrific pain of my life but I said “6” because I thought “Well, if you hit me in the stomach, it would be worse.”

I searched and searched for the post this graphic was from, and the OP deactivated, but I kept the graphic, because my BFF does the same thing, uses her imagination to come up with the worst pain she can imagine and pegs her “10″ there, and so is like, well, I’m conscious, so this must be a 5, and then the doctors don’t take her seriously. (And she then does things like driving herself to the hospital while in the process of giving birth. Probably should have called an ambulance for that one!)

So I found this and sent it to her. Because this is what they want to know: how badly is this pain affecting you? Not on a scale of “nothing” to “how I’d imagine it’d feel if bears were eating my still-living guts while I was on fire”. 

I hate reposting stuff, but I’ll never find that post again and OP is deactivated, so, here’s a repost. I can delete this later, i just wanted to get it to you and I can’t embed images in a chat or an ask. 

This is possibly why it took several weeks to diagnose my fractured spine.

Pain Scale transcription:

10 - I am in bed and I can’t move due to my pain. I need someone to take me to the emergency room because of my pain.

9 - My pain is all that I can think about. I can barely move or talk because of my pain.

8 - My pain is so severe that it is difficult to think of anything else. Talking and listening are difficult.

7 - I am in pain all the time. It keeps me from doing most activities.

6 - I think about my pain all of the time. I give up many activities because of my pain.

5 - I think about my pain most of the time. I cannot do some of the activities I need to do each day because of the pain.

4 - I am constantly aware of my pain but can continue most activities.

3 - My pain bothers me but I can ignore it most of the time.

2 - I have a low level of pain. I am aware of my pain only when I pay attention to it.

1 - My pain is hardly noticeable.

0 - I have no pain.

It’s also really important to get this kind of scale to people who have chronic pain, because chronic pain drastically lowers your perception of how “bad” any kind of pain actually is, and yet something like this pain scale is extremely user friendly. 

For example, if someone asked me how much pain I’m in at any given time, I’d say hardly any, and yet I’m apparently at a chronic 2.5, and it only goes up from there depending on the day. 

There’s also a similarly useful “Fatigue Scale”

I didn’t realize until I read this scale that I woke up at a 7 today.

I don’t think I’ve ever been below a 4 on that fatigue scale.

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Im not sure the new IT guy knows what he is doing…

Leave him alone, he’s trying really hard.

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