fractallogic

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thoughts on Katy Perry/Justin Trudeau?

It genuinely doesn't even compute. It gives me a feeling of unreality. Lots of things nowadays make me feel like "we can't be living in the real world, this can't be happening" but this is by far the most lowest stakes thing that makes me feel that way

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The lion does not concern itself with the bank account balance when a little treat is calling

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I gotta ask, how do people, like, do stuff???

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The king of all cosmos got a twitter account around 2008/2009 to promo katamari forever and some of his posts are really good. He's like Dril to me.

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Tomorrow is Friday and there’s only content from 9-12 tomorrow

Everyone will have to stop talking and meeting because they’ll have to go to the airport to get on all their respective planes

I can make it through another 3+ hours of professional socializing before I come back home to my beloved couch and beloved kitten and crash

Hhhhnnngggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh

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I loved when “Drift Compatible” entered pop lexicon cause we were in DESPERATE need for a way to platonically express “one of us to the other is as a limb to a body; we are a left and right feet of a dancer; we do not need to speak because any one word inspires an exchange of unspoken words that conveys a full conversation in which a mutual conclusion is determined in an instant”. Huge win for the QPRs out here

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ohhhh fun tag @no-rules-no-responsibility 💜 four non-selfie photos from your camera roll!

1) someone’s wet feets from when the Wet Cabinet (shower) was, in fact, Wet, and no good for sitting in

2) a very good license plate outside one of my fave restaurants

3) a very beautiful meal (tofu drunken noodles, not from the above restaurant) that was also soooo good

4) a “break” slide from this week’s project management workshop that uhhhhh is absolutely correct and how I’m sure we all feel, but is maybe not exactly the sentiment they wanted to convey (I’m blaming AI-generated slides tbh) (I don’t think this made the final deck, in part because things got shuffled around and I was also absent from various parts of the workshop because I had client calls I had to be on instead)

Tagging whoever because idk I’m lazy

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i dont lose interest in favorite characters they just get added to my extra inventory slots

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I just saw an unexpected post that I have to ask about.

Do people actually eat tofu, like, for real? It's not a bit, people can actually tolerate eating it?

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wait so you want me to jack off ALL of these trades😰

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oh yeah have i ever told yall of the academic war i have been an unwilling soilder in for the past two years

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My stage career began when I was a little under two months old, when I took the spotlight as Baby Jesus in a Christmas pageant. I’m told that I did a wonderful job and slept calmly through the whole thing, which can only speak to my talents as an actress, because I was 1. the wrong gender 2. a colicky screaming demon of a baby and 3. about as far from divine as it’s possible for an allegedly-human child to be. 

I continued to be actively involved in theater as a kid (and frequently played roles of various small animals, because I was tiny for my age). Around the age of ten, I was cast as the lead character in a musical about cowboys that I no longer remember the name of. It was my first real lead role, and I took it very, very seriously. And because I am myself, that means I maaaaybe went…a little overboard.

My character’s introduction was early in the play, accompanied by the crack of a bullwhip. This was more-or-less pre internet (or, at least, our director was not tech-savvy enough to find sound effects online) and we didn’t have a sound effect track for that noise. There were plans to acquire the appropriate sound effect before opening night, but I rapidly tired of making my entrance during rehearsals to the sound of someone yelling “BULLWHIP NOISE!”

This, I thought to myself, is a problem I can solve.

I learned early in life that it’s good to be friends with people who have skills; they always come in handy eventually.  After rehearsals one day, I put on my cowboy boots and biked a couple miles over to my friend Grace’s house. I went down to their basement and knocked on her older brother’s door.

“Hello,” I said. “I need to learn how to use a bullwhip.”

“….Okay,” he said. It did not seem to occur to him that he might ask further questions about why I, a tiny horrible munchkin composed exclusively of rage and pointy elbows, needed to be weaponized any further. Clearly, I had come to the right person.

My friend’s older brother would have been an SCA nerd, if SCA was a thing where we were. Instead, he was one of those unsupervised 4H kids with weird hobbies, largely oriented around ancient forms of combat. He was somewhere in his late teens at this time, and he liked to make stuff. It was an urge I, even at age ten, could sympathize with. His name was Aron. 

Aron got out his bullwhip (which I had noticed hanging on his wall on a prior visit, and had filed away mentally under a for future use tab) and we went to the backyard. 

“Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron began, “Swinging the bullwhip.” 

We rapidly discovered that since I was god’s tiniest, angriest creation, a full-size bullwhip was way too long for me to use. Aron’s shins suffered for my attempt. 

“…Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron said, “Making a bullwhip.”

So we went back inside, found a tanned cowhide (that he just…had? I don’t remember if there was a reason for this.) and some razor blades, and I learned how to cut and braid a bullwhip. It took a few tries, and I wound up coming back for a while, because I kept getting frustrated with the bullwhip-braiding process and Aron kept distracting me with bait like: “Hey kid, wanna learn to make some chainmail?” and “Hey kid, wanna fletch some arrows?” and “Hey kid, wanna try doing horseback archery?”

Obviously the answer to these questions was “BOY, WOULD I EVER!” Some delays are necessary to the artistic process.

(At one point my mom asked me “Hellen, what are you doing over at Grace’s house all the time?” And I, perfectly innocent, said, “Making weapons!” and my mother, who never understood why I was like this, but accepted that a girl has needs and those needs occasionally involve stocking a personal armory, said “Okay! Have fun!”)

Soon, the bullwhip, size extra small, was finished. The lessons on actual bullwhip use commenced. 

It should be noted that Aron was self-taught, and really had no idea what to do, so this was mostly an exercise in the two of us standing twenty feet apart and flailing wildly with our respective whips until snapping noises happened. And then we figured out what we’d done to make the snapping noises. And then we kept doing that. Extremely vigorously. So vigorously that at one point one of the bullwhips launched into the air and caught on a tree branch and we hand to drag the trampoline over so Aron could bounce me high enough to grab it. But we persisted!

Eventually we reached a point where we could line up pop cans on a fence rail and hit them off three times out of five.

Feeling extremely accomplished and like I finally understood method acting, I packed my bullwhip into my backpack for the next play rehearsal. Soon enough, it was time for me to make my entrance. 

I leaped on stage in my cowboy boots and cracked the bullwhip as hard as I could, immediately launching into the song despite the fact that the sound of five feet of braided leather breaking sound barrier had startled the accompanist so badly she’d keysmashed on the piano.

The director shouted something she probably shouldn’t have shouted in a room full of small children, and then demanded, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!”

“I made it!” I declared proudly. “I’m a cowgirl! I can make my own bullwhip noise!”

“You…made it?” 

“Yes! Because we needed a bullwhip sound effect. And bullwhips are where bullwhip sound effects come from!”

This was, of course, impeccable logic.

It is apparently difficult to argue with a gleeful ten year old who happens to be armed with a bullwhip longer than she is tall. After some negotiation, the director agreed that I could use my bullwhip for my opening song, provided that I didn’t pop it while anyone was anywhere near me on stage and I didn’t let anyone else play with it. These terms were acceptable to me. 

Somehow, no one was injured and the play went off without a hitch. We can only chalk up these things to the magic of the theatre. 

Nearly a decade later, an unsuspecting college classmate asked me, “Hellen, wanna take a class on bullwhip combat with me?”

And obviously I answered, “BOY, WOULD I EVER!”

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i do think a lot of implausible medieval plot devices make more sense when considering the fact that these people simply did not have glasses

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I am nursing a hangover because my neighbors invited me over for a dinner last night that was actually a high school graduation party for their eldest daughter but what it actually actually was was 16 Hindu families getting drunk and having a dance party in the basement teaching me, the Lone Jew, how to do Indian dances and getting me Quite Drunk while the kids watched YouTube upstairs