I move the stars for no one.
Much rebloggery of random things, particularly silliness, commentary on political or social topics, and science or linguistics jokes or nerdery that I forget not everyone gets or finds funny. I tend to take the ludicrous seriously and the serious ludicrously.
It/its, fuck turning 30, cisgender but secretive. Feel free to talk to me, if you think you can tolerate my weirdness.
Also runs @possiblypedanticrpgideas and @thegalacticindex
Header image is "Ein Sof" by Noah Bradley
You shouldn’t date or become serious friends/partners with someone if you can’t stomach the thought of being stuck in a car or train with them for 16 hours.
i love you. you made a mistake? i dont care i love you. you made a wrong choice? love you. you don’t think you’re good for anything? guess what you’re good for loving i love you
in guarani there's a standard greeting that literally translates to "are you happy" (ndevy'apa) and the natural reply is "i'm happy" (avy'a) and as americans learning the language we were so distressed like "but what if we're not happy....." and our teachers were like "that's so not the fucking point"
we kept trying to think of any other way to reply but our teachers kept trying to get it into our brains that it's an idiomatic greeting, it literally is not the time or place to traumadump, and as usamerican english speakers we are not some special exception for saying "what's up" with the reply being "not much" instead of "the ceiling"
but anyway while i was working in paraguay -- the country with the largest population of guarani speakers -- i got sent an article by some friends back home like "look! they're saying that paraguay is the happiest country in the world!"
and the methodology was "we went around and asked paraguayans if they're happy and recorded their responses" and i was like. oh. of course you did. and of course you got a 100% positive response rate.
i'm listening to gathering moss, by robin wall kimmerer, and she is talking about a very odd job she was consigned to do, where an eccentric millionaire recuited her to consult on a "habitat restoration". when she arrives, the job they actually want her to do is to tell them how to plant mosses on the rocks in his garden. he wants it to look like a specific, beautiful wild cliff in the woods nearby, with centuries-old beds of moss growing thick and strong. she tells him it is impossible. such a thing would take decades to accomplish.
later, she is called back to look at the progress of the moss garden and is amazed by the thick, well-established mosses. how did they do it? she asks.
then they take her out to the woods and show her that they have been blasting huge chunks of rock out of the cliff, packaging them in burlap, and moving them to the owner's garden.
You know that trope where the author is like the Small Appalachian Town Church is actually worshipping something Far More Ancient Than Christ? The implication being that Christ isn't real but this old Eldritch thing is real.
Like, who cares if some little holler town has a Real God. The Christians ran Europe for like a thousand years. I feel like your Eldritch Horror has to be scarier than the idea of the Borgias.