#continental separation

[responsivethoughts]

Roughly 10 million years ago, the formation of this stunning valley commenced as a result of tectonic forces. The separation of the Eurasian Plateau and the northern China bloc initiated the creation of the Pinglu Rift Valley along the boundary of these plates.

[fruitcage]

[mariocki]

A selection of international posters for the cinema release of Vendetta for the Saint (1969)

[gallusrostromegalus]

Might I inquire as to what, precisely, a Mustain't is? (Aside from a string of letters I hesitate to Google in that order.)

In October 2014 I went on a road-trip to the Driest Place In America.

I was having a rough year, very depressed from having dropped out of college for the third time. I decided a road trip was in order to re-set my brain and get a little distance. Being that it was October, and therefore all the campgrounds in the American Southwest were filled with people who have the good sense to camp in reasonable temperatures, I elected to take my parent's minivan so I could car-camp anywhere suitably isolated, and looked up some of the southwest's geographic extremes- the highest place I could drive to (Pikes Peak), the lowest place (Badwater Basin), and for fun, the Dryest Place in the continental US, which turned out to be the Pinacate Volcanic field just west of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. It gets rain maybe twice a century and has no standing water, despite being less than 100 miles from the gulf of California.

It's a startlingly beautiful and alien place. The ground is a deep chocolate brown to black volcanic sand, and in mid October, the rabbit brush is turning bright yellow as it shifts to autumn, the organ pipe cacti are a dark green and stand, partially concealed in the brush at exactly human height. The air is alive with birds and insects and bats at night. The stargazing is like looking into the eyes of God.

You get there by driving down a little dirt road called "El Camino Del Diablo", or "The Devil's Road".

I drove out about three hours from Glendale, AZ to get there, arriving at sunset, and felt a profound sense of peace. I stargazed, listening to the bats hunt and sing, and slept peacefully for the first time in months.

I stayed out there for three days, sketching and painting the landscape, taking strolls through this almost alien landscape, and enjoying the light and sound and total absence of human intrusion besides myself.

On the fourth night, it was a new moon, and I awoke in the middle of the night. Something was amiss, and it took me a while to realize it was because I could NOT hear the bats. I was sleeping inside the van with the rear windows rolled halfway down rather than trying to set up the tent, so I when I sat up, I looked out of the van's reflective windows to discover what at first appeared to be A Horse.

It was something between pale gray and bright white in the starlight, standing maybe a dozen feet from the van, sniffing curiously. It made sense- I was in the middle of mustang country and there was quite a bit of foliage in the area for it and it did look like a truly wild horse- lumpy where the bones were jutting out, dusty about the hooves and face.

I was instantly seized by the sort of paralytic fear Sleep paralysis is made of. I couldn't move. It wasn't quite looking at me because it couldn't quite see through the windshield into the shadowy into the shadowy interior, but I had the distinct impression that if I looked away, it would know, and get me.

I already had problems with horses. My beloved Aunt Helen's Prize mare tried to kill me on two separate occasions, and the year before I had to carry my sister-in-law backwards out of a slot canyon whilst reciting the Saint Crispin's Day Speech as loudly as possible to keep a mustang from trampling us to death.

This is approximately what it should have looked like:

Instead, it was... off. like trying to draw a horse from memory.

The waist tapered in.

The legs were slightly too long or the torso slightly too short, probably both.

The ears were Triangular.

The head wasn't quite right- Too narrow and the jaw wasn't heavy enough.

The tail was too long and arced unnaturally away from the body.

The neck arched.

The nostrils were too high and close

The mouth too long.

Whatever this is, a Mustang it Ain't.

I watched it from the back seat as it sniffed around the front of the van, curious with about the side mirrors. It moved around the van, nibbling experimentally on the front door handle. It came up to the side windows, sniffing like a dog, and it's breath didn't fog up the glass.

Finally, it came up to the rear window, which was rolled halfway down to let the fall night air in. Not even half a pane of glass and two feet of air between us, and I could clearly see it's bright blue eyes.

Horses have Elongated pupils to give them a wide field of vision, and eyes that rotate sideways in their sockets so the pupil remains parallel to the ground. Rather creepy to watch, especially the ones with blue eyes.

A real horse that was curious about the interior of the van would have come up to the window more or less sideways, and looked at me with something like this:

Instead, the damn thing walked up and faced the back window head on, staring back at me with this:

I'm not sure how long we watched each other like that, eyes locked. My eyes burned. I couldn't blink. My mouth was dry. I couldn't swallow. My throat began to ache. I couldn't make a sound. My skin began to twitch, like I was severely dehydrated. I couldn't move. My lungs burned. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move.

Something was touching the side of my hand on the seat next to me. It's my water bottle.

The realization must have broken the terrible paralysis in the lower parts of my brain first, because by the time I consciously realized I could move again, I was already flinging my water bottle out the window at it.

The top was open, and splashed out the window at the Mustain't.

I've never heard such a scream out of an animal. Something halfway between the sound of unquenchable rage vibrating in someone's chest and the way rabbits cry out to God when the dogs catch them.

It jumped back, pivoting away from the van, snarling at the water bottle. I don't think you're supposed to be able to see All of a horse's teeth at once, no matter how angry it is.

I watched it run into the night for some distance, it's pale body visible against the black sand and the dark gray shadow of the ancient volcanic cone it was headed for.

When the blood stopped pounding in my ears, I could hear the bats again.

I debated leaving right then, but I didn't want to get out of the van with that thing in the area, nor litter by leaving the water bottle out there. I also had the awful idea that if I left now, it might somehow be able to follow me home. I ended up staying up three hours to watch the sunrise, shaking and trying to figure out if I'd woken up from a vivid dream, if my meds had stopped working, or if that had really happened. I didn't dare move until I actually felt the temperature rise, before stepping out of the van to grab the bottle. I had my camera ready- I was still using a DSLR back then- to take pictures of the hoofprints, to show how close it had gotten to the van.

No hoofprints.

Beetle tracks in the soft sand around the van, and the clear foot-and-wing prints of a bird that had hopped around then taken off. But no hoofprints.

I went over the entire campsite with the tent broom, to make sure I removed every scrap of evidence I had ever been there, including my footprints, grabbed my water bottle, and drove the three hours back back to Glendale, then decided to do seven more hours of driving to Moab, Utah just to put more than 500 miles, the state line and at least nine things that could be considered "running water" between me and the Mustain't.

-

I still have that water bottle. It has a dent in the bottom from hitting something, but that could have happened at any time. Strange thing though. I can't drink that bottle dry. I'll have it on me, drink whatever I've put in there- water, juice, iced coffee- and eventually feel like I've drunk the whole think and that it's empty. But I open it up and it's still at least a quarter full. I drink that. I get thirsty. I open it up again. ...and there's always a mouthful left.

Not sure what the side effects of drinking from a bottle cursed by a Mustain't to always have some left are, but it lives in the Emergency Breakdown Kit in my car now, just in case I meet another one.

---

(I'm a disabled artist and make my living telling stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi or Pre-order the Family Lore book on Patreon)

[wiisagi-maiingan]

“National parks have been vital in protecting huge swaths of land, including sacred sites and unique ecosystems, from land developers and other forms of destruction and are some of the last places in the continental United States where many animals are able to live safely from overhunting and unnecessary culls.”

and

“National parks are, just like the rest of the US, land stolen from indigenous people who are now denied access to the lands that their ancestors lived on and cared for for thousands of years, even when having access is vital for a community’s survival, whether that’s through food sources in the form of hunting/fishing/gathering or the ability to continue cultural practices.”

and

“National parks provide places for people to feel connected to nature and to able to observe plants and animals and land masses that they’d never be able to see otherwise, and many national parks also include other services like horseback riding lessons and educational events to help people better understand their planet.“

and

“National parks, including with the famous motto ‘take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints,’ push an ahistorical and frankly dangerous narrative that separates humans from nature, turning people into observers of our world instead of active participants, and does damage to the plants that adapted and evolved at the hands of foragers to benefit the most when they’re harvested.“

[tanadrin]

medieval monks and accountants start using Italian millione ("one thousand" + augmentative suffix) to mean 10^6 by the 1200s; this spreads to other languages

Jehan Adam coins bymillion and trimillion to mean 10^12 and 10^18 in 1475

Nicolas Chuquet extends this scale up to nonyllion (10^54), with every step being another six orders of magnitude (million, byllion, tryllion, quadrillion, quyllion, sixlion, septyllion, ottylion, nonyllion) in 1484. Note that in this period, it was common to put the digit separator every six digits instead of every three.

Guillaume Budé refers to 10^9 as milliart in 1516, in a Latin text

But in 1549, Jacques Pelletier du Mans uses milliard to mean 10^12, citing Budé as a source

In the 1600s, people start putting digit separators every three digits. But some scientists and mathematicians define the numerical scale according to how digits are grouped, rather than the actual order of magnitude: thus, one billion becomes 10^9, one trillion becomes 10^12, etc, creating the short scale.

"Milliard" is eventually added to the long scale, meaning 10^9 (in keeping with Budé's usage); the first published example is from 1676

By 1729, the short-scale meaning of "billion" (10^9) has already crept into American usage

This is in keeping with French usage at the time: in 1762, the Académie Française dictionary cites billion as meaning 10^9.

By the early 19th century, France has almost completely converted to the short scale, and U.S. usage follows France; the long scale is referred to in some sources as "obsolete." But Britain is still using the long scale (and I assume Germany and most other European countries)

Over the course of the 20th century, the long scale begins to become more influential in France, presumably due to the influence of continental usage; while the short scale becomes more influential in Britain, presumably due to the influence of American English. Notably the SI system very specifically uses unique prefixes that are the same across languages, to prevent confusion!

In 1961, the French Government confirms that they're going to officially use the long scale from now on; in 1974, Britain officially switches over to the short scale, and many other English-speaking countries follow.

In 1975, the terms "short scale" and "long scale" are actually coined, by mathematician Geneviève Guitel.

One reason large number names could be so unstable for so long is, of course, that outside specialized usage they are rare, and were even more rare before modern science and large modern monetary amounts became commonplace points of discussion. Wikipedia says "milliard" wasn't common in German until 1923, when bank notes had to be overstamped during Weimar-era hyperinflation.

As it currently stands, English, Indonesian, Hebrew, Russian, Turkish, and most varieties of Arabic use the short scale; continental Europe and most varieties of Spanish outside Europe use the long scale. A few countries use both, usually in different languages, like South African English (short scale) and Afrikaans (long scale) or Canadian English (short scale) and Canadian French (long scale) . Puerto Rico uses the short scale in economic and technical usage, but the long scale in publications aimed at export.

Notably some languages use neither, having their own names for large numbers--South Asian languages have the Indian numbering system, and Bhutan, Cambodia, and various East Asian languages also have their own numbering systems. Greek, exceptionally, uses a native calque of the short scale rather than a borrowing.

[roboticchibitan]

Okay, I've made enough "blease knit gauge swatches. Swatchless projects killedy family" posts. This post is an informational post a out gauge swatches. It will mainly be written in knitting terms because that is my main craft but it applies to crochet too. Even if you're an experienced crafter, you might learn something from this post. I talk about different reasons to make a swatch and some reasons a swatch might lie to you.

What is gauge?

Gauge is the size of your stitches, ie how wide and tall they are. It can be affected by the way you hold the yarn, your tension, and your needle/hook size. In knitting the style you knit can affect this, with the tendency being that English style is usually, but not always, tighter than continental. When I went from knitting English style to knitting Norwegian style, my gauge drastically changed to be much looser.

What is a gauge swatch?

A gauge swatch is a small piece of work that you use to measure your stitches per inch and rows per inch gauge. "Standard" gauge swatches are 4in/10cm squares, but often you'll see different sizes, especially for lace patterns that have you test knitting a certain chart or stitch

Why do we make gauge swatches?

We make gauge swatches to check if our gauge is the same as the pattern designer's gauge. Because you want your gauge to be the same as the pattern designer's so you know your size XL sweater will actually be size XL or your six foot in diameter shawl will actually be six feet across. Or that your airy and beautiful lace will actually be airy and beautiful and not too dense or too loose.

We also might swatch if we are substituting yarns. For example, a blocked lace swatch of wool will have different dimensions than a blocked lace swatch of pure silk because silk is less stretchy than wool. So if you are substituting fibers, you want to know that you'll like the finished item and might swatch a bit of the pattern before starting in earnest so you don't waste your time making something you'll be dissatisfied with.

There's also some differences between yarns of the same fiber and same weight. Some lace weight yarn is categorized as lace weight while being 600 yds per 100g, and some lace weight yarn is 800 yds or 1000 yds per 100g. So you should knit a swatch when substituting yarn even if they are the same fiber and weight if they are different yardage per gram ratios.

Do I always need to make a gauge swatch?

I talk a lot about the importance of gauge swatches but the honest answer is no, you do not always need to make a gauge swatch. If you are making something that doesn't require a certain size or airiness of pattern, like a bag or a simple scarf, you don't need to do a gauge swatch.

How do I make a gauge swatch?

Most patterns have a simple gauge listed, such as 22 stitches by 18 rows is 4in/10cm square in stockinette. However, some patterns have an "in pattern" gauge swatch or a separate pattern/chart for their swatch. So you cast on however many stitches (I often cast on a few more than the swatch calls for, but you don't have to), and knit that many rows in whatever pattern is specifed. If it's stockinette, knit stockinette. If it's "in pattern," locate the repeating part of the pattern and knit the designated amount of rows. If there is a separate pattern/chart for the swatch, knit as directed. Bind off. Don't measure on the needle, it will lie to you.

Then, you want to treat the swatch how you'll treat the finished object. If you're not going to block the finished object, measure it as is. But if you're going to block the finished object (and most things you should tbh blocking hides so many sins), you get the swatch wet, pin it out to shape, and then leave it to dry.

THEN! And nobody talks about this step for some reason and it's been the reason swatches lied to me in the past. Unpin it and let it rest. Different people give different time amounts for this resting. I'd let it rest at least three hours but some people recommend up to a week. The reason for this resting period is that many yarns, especially wool and other animal fibers, have elasticity to them. They'll rebound back a bit. Cotton and linen will have less rebound than things like wool. I'm not 100% sure where acrylic falls on that scale since I hate the texture of most acrylics.

OK I made and blocked the swatch and let it rest, what do I do now?

Now you measure! Does your stitches/rows ratio match up with the pattern designer's? Compare your gauge to the listed gauge. If it is different, you need to adjust needle/hook sizes. If your swatch is larger than the given measurements, your gauge is too loose and you need to go down one (or several) needle/hook sizes. If your swatch is smaller, your gauge is too tight and you need to go up one (or more) needle/hook sizes. At this point you can say "it's probably just one size up/down" and start your project, or you can repeat the entire swatch process. If unsure, repeat.

That's cool, can we see an example?

Sure! Here are two swatches I have pinned out.

I didn't follow my own advice about swatching and just started the Sapphira Lace Shawl on the recommended size 4 needles, but I got all the way through the first repeat of the body chart and then frogged the whole thing because my gauge was so loose you couldn't even see the pattern.

The Sapphira Lace Shawl has a separate pattern just for the gauge swatch and says "gauge is not important, swatch in lace pattern and use comfortable needle size to achieve airy lace that is not too holey." Too holey means that the stitches and yarn overs are so loose you cannot properly make out the pattern at all. That's what happened when I used size 4 needles.

The swatches you see here were knitted on size 2 (top) and 3 (bottom) needles. I knitted the bottom swatch first but was unsure if I liked the result so I went down another needle size and knitted a second swatch.

You'll notice the size 2 swatch is smaller and it's easier to make out the design. The stitches are smaller and denser, so the places where decreases and plain knit stitches are grouped together are easier to see. Versus the size 3 swatch where the stitches are looser and it's a bit harder to make out the design, though not impossible. On size four needled my stitches were so loose you couldn't really make out the design at all. With these swatches pinned out, I personally like the size 2 swatch better. However! That may change once I let the swatches rest for a while!

This yarn is an alpaca/silk mix. Alpaca is known for stretching out and not holding its shape. It's not ideal for lace. Silk is very good at holding its shape, but not very stretchy. I'm hoping together they make an okay yarn for lace because separately neither is my preference for lace. It was what I had on hand that was dyeable. Alpaca has some elasticity so it will spring back once I unpin it and let it rest. At that point, I may like the size 3 swatch better. I won't know until I get there.

I'll try to remember to post pictures of the rested swatches tomorrow to show if there's any difference. I might work up another swatch on size 4 needles to show what "too holey" looks like but that's more of a "how to knit lace" educational swatch than a "how to knit swatches" educational swatch so I might not bother.

That's it, that's the post. I'm sure my knitting mutuals will have comments and things to add so check the notes.

[amnhnyc]

Today’s Exhibit of the Day? The Museum’s giant amethyst geode. Standing 9 ft (2.7 m) tall and weighing around 11,000 lbs (5,000 kg), it’s one of the largest specimens in our halls. How did this dazzling geode come to be? About 135 million years ago, the continental plates carrying South America and Africa began to separate. Magma poured out from fractures in Earth’s crust and large gas bubbles escaped from within the magma—becoming trapped in the rock as it solidified, forming cavities. Groundwater flowing into these spaces brought dissolved silica, which crystallized into quartz. Over millennia, most of these quartz crystals turned into rich purple amethyst. Spot this and other amazing specimens in the Museum’s Mignone Halls of Gems and Minerals!

Photo: D. Finnin/ © AMNH 

[trans-axolotl]

ID: Intersex activist Max Beck standing in front of the American Academy of Pediatrics with a sign that says Silence=Death.

On October 26th, 1996, the first ever protest for intersex liberation in America took place when activists from Hermaphrodites With Attitude took to the streets to protest the American Academy of Pediatrics. Later memorialized as intersex awareness day, this important action was a milestone for the American intersex movement. Max Beck, one of the intersex activists from HWA, documented the entire protest and later published their recollection in the Intersex Awakening Issue of the Chrysalis Journal. The full piece is pasted under the cut.  

"But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. 

I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America. One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. 

We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!" 

Hermaphrodites With Attitude Take to the Streets: By Max Beck, 1997

In late October of 1996, Hermaphrodites with Attitude took to the streets, in the first public demonstration by intersexuals in modern history. On a glorious fall day, the like of which you can only find in New England, under a crackling, cloudless sky, twenty-odd protesters joined forces to picket the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians in Boston. Deeply aware of the historical and personal significance of the action, and — correctly — surmising that a notebook diary would not be practical on such a whirlwind, windy week-end, I took a small hand-held tape recorder with me. What follows are excerpts from the resulting transcript.

October 24, 1996 2:45 PM, Atlanta’s Hartsfield International Airport

The trip has only just begun and I am already exhausted. Hot. Starving. Fifteen minutes until take-off. Every businessman boarding the plane looks like a pediatric endocrinologist, Boston-bound. Silly thought, testimony to what? My anxiety? My fear? My giddy anticipation? If these bespectacled, suit-and-tie sporting men were pediatricians, would they be flying coach on Continental, with a layover in Newark? I’m headed for Boston, for the Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Pediatricians (AAP). Tens of thousands of pediatricians. I’m not a pediatrician, though, nor am I a nurse; in fact, I barely managed to complete my B.A. I’m a manager of a technical laboratory. We don’t work with children, and the AAP certainly didn't invite me, so why am I going?

With the plane taxiing toward take-off, this is a lousy time to reassess. I’m going. I’m going because I am intersexed. I’m going because the doctors and nurses who treated me as an infant and a child and an adolescent, and those who continue to treat intersexed infants and children today, consider me “lost to follow-up.” I was lost— that’s part of the problem. Now, I’m back.

9:02 PM: Boston’s North End

I’m comfortably ensconced in Alice’s warehouse condo in Boston’s North End, a renovated warehouse with a view of the city skyline, ceilings easily twenty feet high, exposed beams and brick, gorgeous tile floor. As I speak, my hostess is preparing an absolutely phenomenal meal. The aroma of roasted peppers permeates the entire space. Tomorrow, the work begins; my project this evening is to unwind and enjoy this wonderful meal. Easier said than done. I’m feeling excited, enervated, I feel very alive, something I don’t feel very often, I feel very present and aware. It could be my exhaustion, it could be the Chardonnay. But I think, rather, that the excitement is anticipation about what we are about to do. Being here, finally being prepared to raise a voice, to be heard, to be seen, a vocal, out, proud hermaphrodite who is standing up to say, “Let’s rethink this, this isn’t working, we’ve been hurt, stop what you’re doing, listen to us!” I’m really looking forward to meeting Morgan at the airport in the morning; it’s always amazing to make eye contact with someone else who has been there.

October 25, 7:38 AM Boston Commons

En route to my encounter with the AAP, walking the approximately two miles from my hostess’ domicile to the Marriott Hotel at Copley Square, I pause in the Boston Commons to enjoy a park bench, to sip my Starbuck’s decaf, and to watch a group of senior citizens performing Japanese swordsmanship on top of the hill beneath a monument to some forgotten general. The city is cool this morning, but clear, and it promises to be a beautiful weekend. That’s good: we won’t be rained out. I’ve got a stack of about ninety ISNA brochures in the bag at my side, crammed in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. If I want these pamphlets to get inside, I’ve got to get to the site of the Nurses’ Panel at the Marriott before they close the doors. Then it’s back out to the airport, to pick up Morgan. My feet are already killing me.

October 26, 9:15 AM: North End

Morgan and I are sitting at our hostess’ breakfast table, pulling our thoughts together. In a few minutes, we’ll have to leave to pick up Riki at the airport. The logistics of pulling together an action are mind-boggling. There’s no describing the thrill, though, of all that work, all those phone calls, all those miles. Riding a clattering subway on a Saturday morning, seated beside another living, breathing, laughing, swearing intersexual, hugging near-strangers at unfamiliar airports, then riding back, together, defiant, determined, organized, to the heart of so much of our pain, so much of our anger, so much of our need. We gathered in front of the huge Hynes Auditorium, pamphlets and leaflets in hand, and met the AAP attendees as they left the convention center for lunch. The next hour-and-a-half was a blur, as we positioned ourselves in strategic locations before the Hynes, held signs and “Hermaphrodites with Attitude” banner aloft, distributed our literature, engaged AAP members and passers-by in conversation and debate, spoke to microphones, to cameras. In all that time, I recorded only one fragment of a breathless sentence. 

Saturday, 12:20 PM Outside the Hynes

We’ve got all the exits covered, and it’s an incredible, incredibly empowering experience. I remember the words I spoke to the TV camera, if only because I had scribbled a rough outline on the airplane, pirating mightily from Cheryl’s press release. And because the moment was so salient, so real. Me, Max, bespectacled, with blisters on my feet and chapped lips, speaking out to untold numbers of invisible viewers (and a few bewildered pediatricians behind me.)

"When an intersex child is born, parents and caregivers are faced with what seems to be a terrible dilemma: here is an infant who does not fit what our society deems normal. Immediate medical intervention seems indicated, in order to spare the parents and the child the inevitable stigmatization associated with being different. Yet the infant is not facing a medical emergency; intersexuality is rarely if ever life-threatening. Rather, the psychosocial crisis of the parents and caregivers is medicalized. 

Intersexuality is assumed to be a birth defect which can be corrected, outgrown and forgotten. The experiences of members of the intersex support groups indicate that intersexuality cannot be fixed; an intersex infant grows up to be an intersex adult. This hasn’t been explored, because intersex patients are almost invariably “lost to follow-up.” The abstract of a talk that will be given at this very conference by a doctor who treats intersex infants concedes that “the psychological issues surrounding genital reconstruction are inadequately understood.”

Part of the problem is that we were lost to follow-up, and there were reasons for that. But we’re here today to say we’re back, we’re no longer lost, and we’d like to offer some feedback. We’re here to say that the treatment paradigm for “managing” intersexuals is in desperate, urgent need of re-examination. We’re back to say that early surgical intervention leads to more than “just” physical scars and sexual dysfunction. We’re back to say that the lack of education and counseling for intersexuals, our families and the community at large does not lead to a blissful, healthy, well-adjusted ignorance. Rather, it too often leads to a life-threatening shroud of silence, secrecy, and self-hatred. I’m here representing over one hundred fifty intersexals throughout North America.

One hundred fifty intersexuals are saying: Please! Listen! You doctors, you pediatric endocrinologists and urologists treating intersexuals, you nurses interacting with intersexuals and their families, listen to us! We understand intersexuality, not because we have studied the medical literature — although many of us have — not because we have performed surgeries, but because we have been grappling with intersexuality every day of our lives. We’re here to say that those who would have us believe that intersexuality is rare, cloud the issue by breaking us and separating us into narrow etiological categories which have little meaning in terms of our actual, lived experience. We’re here so that other intersexuals can find us — for many of us, finding others like ourselves has been a lifealtering, even life-saving, experience. We’re here to reach parents before their intersex child is born. We’re here to elicit the help of other sympathetic professionals. We can take a stand as openly intersex adults without being crushed by shame! And we did!

7:20 PM: Boston’s North End

Goddess, this is so sweet, so liberating! I was so reluctant a week ago, having my Jesus-in-Gethsemane experience, reluctant to accept — not an onus or responsibility but — to accept who I am. And here’s where the hard work really begins. I’m exhausted when I think of the road before us. But then, it’s nothing like the road behind us. 

Max Beck, 1997.

[minecraft]

not a fan of the current minecraft world generation where if you zoom out of pretty much any seed you can see that all the land is connected together like a net and oceans are really just big lakes. I'd like it to feel more continental, with big interesting shapes of land separated by big oceans

[knuppitalism-with-ue]

I forgot to continue the Lemuria series here. Lets do this!

After the reefs we went further towards the shore, onto the carbonate platform that formed on the continental shelf of Lemuria.

On Lemuria

Lemuria is a new spec evo project for and by the #paleostream community. Like the Atlantis project beforehand it deals with a fictional piece of land in 3 phases. Lemuria is an already existent concept that was invented before the recognition of plate tectonics to explain certain distribution patterns of animals and plants. In our case Lemuria is a continent consisting of India and Madagascar. We speculate how animals and plants would evolve if these two would never separate. This has MANY consequences. And the further we progress through time the more natural history will change. Phase one deals with the Cretaceous, when things are still rather "normal".

[russo-woso]

Dread || Niamh Charles

Summary You and Niamh always dread playing against each other

Red vs Blue.

Rival vs rival.

A London derby.

Arsenal vs Chelsea.

There were loads of nicknames for the match because ultimately, it was one of the most exciting games of the season.

The fans were excited for it, the players were excited for it, but you and a certain Chelsea defender wasn’t.

You dreaded the match, and so did Niamh, if not more.

Niamh was a defender, you were a striker. The thought of Niamh hurting you killed her.

You and Niamh had gone up against each other before, many times, but this time was different.

This was the continental cup final.

Arsenal were determined to keep their hands on the trophy, but Chelsea were just as determined to take it off of them.

When you awoke early on the morning of Easter Sunday, thanks to Niamh pressing soft kisses to your shoulder blade, you couldn’t help but cuddle into her, the dreaded feeling of playing against her sinking into your mind.

After a while of a comfortable silence taking over the room, you pulled away from Niamh, a serious look on your face.

“Promise me that no matter what the score is, we’ll be lying like this tonight.” You said to Niamh whilst a soft smile appeared on her face.

“I promise, love. Remember, Football will always come second when it comes to you.” Niamh told you and you nodded, agreeing with her words.

“You’ll always come first too.” You stated, pressing your lips on hers.

The rest of the morning you had free sped by and before you knew it, you and Niamh’s were going your separate ways.

————————

“Nervous about playing against Niamh?” Beth asked you, noticing that your leg was bouncing and your hands were fidgeting with whatever you could touch.

“Yeah. A bit.” You responded, sending a weak smile to her.

“Speak of the devil, she’s just messaged me to see how you are. Isn’t that sweet? I remember when you first met. It was love at first sight. And god was my ears chewed off by you going on and on about how you loved Niamh.” Alessia, who was sat next to you, teased you before telling the whole coach the story of how you and Niamh met.

It was true, Alessia had been there when you and Niamh met for the first time.

In fact, she had been the one to introduce you to one another.

You had joined the youth age groups later than everyone else but Alessia had taken you under wing and had introduced you to all her friends, including Niamh.

From then on, Alessia became your best friend, along with Tooney, the three of you becoming an iconic trio.

And you and Niamh grew closer too. Becoming friends and then realising the growing crush on her, before finally, after months of flirting with one another, Niamh asked you on a date.

That was nearly eight years ago and you’re still just in love with Niamh as if you were when you were sixteen.

“Less, stop it.” You told her, nudging her shoulder as she continued to tell embarrassing stories of you when you were teenagers.

“Yeah but I’m right in the middle of when you slipped on the ball when we were in Jordan.” Alessia said as the girls laughed.

“Well at least I didn’t have our coach performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on me because I was chocking on spaghetti. Some Italian you are.” You fired back, a grin taking over your face as Alessia’s face dropped.

“You promised to not tell anyone about that.” Alessia complained, rolling her eyes as Kyra fell to the coach floor laughing. “And I’m half Italian by the way.”

Your mind went foggy as tiredness took over it.

You rested your head on Alessia’s shoulder who immediately cuddled up to you and fell asleep.

It was a normal occurrence to fall asleep on the way to away matches, especially to fall asleep on Alessia.

Alessia and you always sat next to each other on the coaches and with your capability to fall asleep anywhere, it was normally her who had to deal with your snoring.

After two hours of sleeping, you were awoken by Kyra who was excited to play her first final for Arsenal.

Before long, you were walking out of the tunnel to complete a pitch inspection.

Noticing Niamh on the other side of the pitch, you split up from Kyra and Alessia and approaches Niamh.

A smile grew on Niamh’s face as she spotted you, opening her arms as she enveloped you in a hug.

You didn’t say anything, it was just a hug made of pure love for one another.

You broke away from the hug, reaching out to rest a hand on her cheek before pressing a light kiss on her lips.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Niamh said, your face centimetres away from hers.

“You will. I love you, Niamhy.”

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

And with that, you went your separate ways, you going back to Alessia and Kyra, and Niamh going back to Zecira.

————————

After an eventful game that went into extra time, the full time whistle blew.

It had been one hell of a match to say the least.

With the score being 0-0 through most of the game, to Frida collapsing on the pitch, to you scoring the winning goal just four minutes before full time.

The whole entire arsenal team gathered round celebrating.

It was as if you were dual natured in that moment.

One half of you wanted to celebrate with all your teammates, but the other half wanted to go and wrap Niamh in a hug.

You opted for both. Spending time with your teammates for a few minutes before going off to find Niamh.

“Niamhy, I’m so sorry.” You began but Niamh turned around with a light smile on her face.

“Don’t say sorry, love. I’m so proud of you.” Niamh opened her arms once again as you found your spot in between them. “You go celebrate. I’ll see you at home later, okay? We can have all the cuddles in the world then. I promise.”

Niamh stuck to her promise.

As you arrived back in London that night, most of the team decided to go out celebrating but you decided to get back home, desperately wanting to see Niamh.

After lots of teasing about you and Niamh, you eventually got away from them all and drive home.

Niamh was already waiting for you in bed, burying your head in her chest as you laid down next to her.

All of the dread had gone.

You were now in your happy place. Your safe space. You were with your Niamh.

[xhxhxhx]

I Feel Like I Win When I Lose

On April 6, 1974, ABBA won the Eurovision Song Contest with "Waterloo." The song transformed Napoleon's last defeat into a metaphor for surrender.

It's paradoxical. But perhaps it was exactly right. In surrender, ABBA found a vision for a Europe that had found union in defeat.

I.

Before he met his destiny, Napoleon developed his own vision of European unity.

Napoleon's Continental System envisioned a Europe unified through its insulation from British trade. But for Napoleon, the System was always an exercise in command and control.

In his Berlin Decree of November 21, 1806, Napoleon declared Britain under a state of blockade. All commerce with Britain was prohibited. All British goods were to be seized.

The System would unite Europe through the force of that command. It was a vision of a Europe bound by imperial will, through a decree “[f]rom our Imperial Camp at Berlin.”

In two more decrees, issued November 23 and December 17, 1807, the Emperor expanded the regime into a system inspections, confiscations, and certificates of origin.

The last decree the Emperor handed to his foreign minister, with instructions to carry it to the Netherlands, Spain, and Denmark, so these nominal sovereigns could execute it as written.

II.

Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo. His System had been defeated long before that.

At Tilsit in July 1807, Napoleon secured the consent of his Russian counterpart, Alexander, to a blockade on Britain. But unlike the little princes, Alexander did not take commands from Napoleon.

Russian public participation in Napoleon’s System was more oblique. No term on British trade entered the Russian treaty. Under its terms, Russia agreed to mediate a peace between France and Britain, 8 G. Martens 2d 640, but its only reference to commerce was Russia’s commerce with France and its clients, which it restored. Id. at 642.

Not even the separate, secret treaty of alliance commit Russia to the System. It only committed Russia to make war on Britain if Britain rejected Russian mediation, or declined to make peace on French terms. 13 F. Martens 323. In that case, Russia would be obliged to close its ports to British trade. Id. at 324. Not otherwise.

Tilsit reflects the illusions of its moment. Napoleon had seen only what he wanted to in Alexander. As Albert Sorel observed, Tilist left behind no formal engagements, no plans, only “inclinations, allusions, of which only the memories would remain.” 7 Sorel 179. Perhaps not even that.

Russia would come in on its own terms.

In August 1807, the month after Tilsit, the Emperor of All Russias issued his own decree. Russia had been troubled by foreigners, it said, and he was going to do something about it. Starting on January 1, 1808, foreigners would barred from entering the Empire, and all from exiting it, without a passport from the Russian foreign ministry. 8 G. Martens 2d 687.

This was how Russia would support the System. Not through union with Europe, but separation from it. Not through surrender to another European empire, but resistance to the whole world. In the voice of its Tsar, Russia would assert sovereignty and dominion.

To the Russian people, the decree presented another face. Their Emperor had decided to order an exacting surveillance of his subjects. They would not lose their freedoms under law, the decree assured them. They could leave if they wanted. They just couldn’t leave without his permission. Id. at 688.

III.

In the secret Treaty of Tilsit, France and Russia had undertaken to make war on Denmark, Sweden, and Portugal if they declined to make war on Britain, and close their ports to British trade. 13 F. Martens 324.

Although Denmark was not a party to the Treaty of Tilsit, nor even permitted to see it, the treaty obliged Denmark to make war on Sweden. If Sweden refused to make war on Britain, “Denmark would be constrained to make war on them.” Id.

Sweden had been Napoleon's erstwhile ally. At his direction, Sweden had declared war on Britain, but never fired a shot in anger, even as British goods made their way to Baltic ports.

Sweden's compliance had always been a fiction. But after Tilsit, as Russian troops massed on the borders of Swedish Finland, Sweden embraced its old enemy. British ships appeared in Swedish ports. British goods flowed freely.

Russia issued its demands, Sweden refused, Russia declared war, Sweden lost. Sweden ceded Finland, forever. At home, the Swedish estates deposed their king and invited Napoleon's great marshal, Jean-Baptiste Jules Bernadotte, to succeed to its throne.

IV.

Sweden had been a reactionary monarchy since the coup of 1772. Now the Swedish estates made sure it would never return to the throne. Now Charles XIII would acknowledge that his dynasty would end with his own life.

Under Sweden's Constitution of 1772, the king had ruled alone, "he and no other." § 2. His councilors had "advised, as their office requires, but not ruled." § 4. His councilors had not been responsible to the estates, but to him and him alone.

Under Bernadotte, Napoleon's marshal, things would be different. The king would no longer rule alone. Now he would rule in council. Swed. Const. of 1809 §§ 4, 7, 8.

But now, with Napoleon's friends commanding the Baltic Sea, his Continental System came apart. Alexander's Russia and Bernadotte's Sweden, turned against his grand design. Russia opened itself to British ships. Sweden had never truly closed.

In 1812, as Napoleon marched toward Moscow, Sweden and Russia turned openly against him. The Continental System gave way to war, and war to defeat. And at Waterloo, Napoleon was defeated.

Europe's princes divided the Continent between themselves. Europe's new Continental System, tacit and informal, was not a unit, but a league. It was a league against war and revolution, sealed by a congress of princes.

Europe learned something from Napoleon's fall: that command creates its own resistance, that command without consent is command without power.

V.

After another war, Europe tried something different. On April 18, 1951, six nations signed the Treaty of Paris establishing the European Coal and Steel Community, which became the European Economic Community after 1957.

Britain stood apart. It founded its own European Free Trade Association, Sweden included, even as it watched the Community grow stronger. It applied to join the European Economic Community in 1961. It was vetoed by France's President de Gaulle, suspicious of Britain's entry into its Continental compact. In 1967, it applied again, and was vetoed again.

Only with de Gaulle's resignation in 1969 could Britain finally enter the Community, as it did in 1973. But the question remained: How much sovereignty could a state surrender before independence became servitude? How much autonomy could it yield before victory became defeat?

VI.

And then came ABBA, making Waterloo into a love song. Not about Napoleon's defeat or Britain's victory, but about the sweetness of surrender. About finding freedom in yielding. About how losing yourself to another might be its own kind of triumph.

The genius isn't in the irony but in the constitutional truth: Modern Europe has always been about learning to love what defeats you. About finding victory in defeat. About making defeat and victory the same thing.

That's what "Waterloo" caught, as did Eurovision, itself an exercise in competitive unity, division serving union. Europe heard itself in the paradox: nationalism performing its own dissolution, Waterloo celebrating surrender, sovereignty and submission becoming one.

That's the trick Europe learned. The only trick it needed. The surrender that saves you.

VII.

In 1975, Britain would face its first Brexit referendum. It was a kind of Waterloo for Britain's beleaguered Brexiteers. Europe won. Britain was defeated; Europe won the war.

And they promised to love them forever more.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

hi guys!

so it's come to my attention that this whole few series might be a little confusing to read in a particular order so I'm just gonna try and narrow the explanation down a little bit...

so in order to probably understand monkey's personality first i would read a few bits from chaos fc which starts of as an aussie pest and an english pest who are best friends and love to cause chaos together!

these 5 fics are based around their time in melbourne and what they get up too

↪ i'm never babysittin' again! | mission: chaos fc | yer' a pair of pests! | wheres' dumb and dumber? | come get yer' kid!

from there there's a few fic's that follow on from this with monkey's different adventures in scotland and nashville, where's up to no good as usual

↪ wee' bit of haggis in scotland | yeehaw' it's cowgirl era | you can kiss my ass, cowboy!

following on from these if you want to read more about monkey's past then i suggest reading a lot of reserved feelings which kinda goes into the small details about monkey's reserved side when she first moved in with leah and jordan

there is also a bunch of head canons and blurbs that are related to this as well which will help to understand monkey's past better in monkey's background and i think it is also briefly mentioned in monkey moves in

after this i would recommend reading the separate mini series in which this introduces buddy and it gives a bit of an insight into what she is like and how she handles the separation between her two mums but this is wrote around the same time as monkey returns from her adventures in nashville

there's several more head canons/blurbs that are related to buddy through the time before she was born in ivf and pregnancy and and and even the introduction between monkey meeting buddy for the first time

if you wanted to read about the gender reveal of buddy then i would recommend the flashback fic to finding out the gender of buddy in oh baby! which is in the buddy & monkey series where monkey is so excited about it

the whole buddy and monkey: double the trouble series is pretty self explanatory and it's mostly about the two of them and the adventures they get up too, together

however, there's a few i would recommend reading together which would be the bubbles are pink, jackass! and then the farmyard adventures since that follows on from the swear jar fiasco

from there there's a couple of fics that are not really planned to go in any particular order which are buddy's first words as well as no more money for monkey and we brought a puppy home

there's also a good couple of head canons and blurbs related to this series the break up | euro final | buddy cheering monkey up | zoo adventures | training days | kimmy the babysitter

also the social media aspect of it which is reunited again and monkey's lioness debut

following along with the head canons and blurbs there's several in chaos fc which can be read in any particular order as well leah being drunk | making a fool of herself | monkey encouraging leah to drink more | monkey winding leah up the morning | captain kimmy & monkey blurb | england call up | media duties with monkey & kyra and continental cup celebrations

the four most current ones at the minute are the glastonbury mini series following onto both parts of whoa, we're going to ibiza I and whoa, we're going to ibiza II then from that its' my most current work which is the the haunting nightmares of the past

i hope this somewhat helps and it's not incredibly confusing to read now - there's more to come for all this so i will update this as and when i can!

and as always if you have any questions about anything then please feel free to continue to ask me anything whether it's anonymous or not, i love answering questions about this chaotic pair! 💗

[todropscience]

CLIMATE CHANGE WEAKENS ENDEMISM OF OCEANIC ISLANDS IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC

The Juan Fernández wrasse (Malapterus reticulatus), once considered endemic to the Juan Fernández Archipelago and Desventuradas Islands, has now been recorded along central Chile’s coast. This finding signals a potential breakdown of the natural isolation of the archipelago, likely caused by altered ocean currents linked to global warming. The species range expansion, was confirmed following spearfishers and scuba divers reports from social medias such is Instagram and Facebook.

Historically restricted to the archipelago, the Juan Fernandez Wrasse has been detected in the temperate waters from the chilean coast. Despite the 600 km separation, there is no significant ecological or biological exchange between the Juan Fernández Archipelago and mainland Chile, with oceanographic barriers like the Humboldt Current maintaining their isolation. This has resulted in extraordinary endemism, with at least 70% of the fish species in the archipelago being found nowhere else in the world. Scientists believe the warming oceans and shifts in current systems are eroding the oceanographic barriers, such are the cold current along Chile that maintain high levels of endemism in Juan Fernández, a hotspot for unique marine species.

-Juvenile Juan Fernandez wrasses thriving in the coast of continental Chile.

The Juan Fernández wrasse is a cleaner fish that feeds on parasites and dead tissue. Experts believe it may occupy an open ecological niche along Chile’s central coast, posing no competition to local species.

Photograph: Juan Fernandez wrasse in Quintay, central Chile, by José Tomas Yakasovic.

Reference: Almendras et al., 2025. The Juan Fernández Wrasse Malapterus reticulatus in the Continental Shelf of Chile. Austral Ecology  10.1111/aec.70027

[probablyasocialecologist]

Tally of bones, artifacts reveals 2000 years of population swings among Indigenous Americans

Tens of thousands of radiocarbon dates track different regions’ population history before European arrival

Radiocarbon dates from tens of thousands of bones, textiles, food scraps, and charcoal bits are shedding light on fluctuations in Indigenous population numbers across the Americas before the arrival of Europeans. Researchers report today in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences that the population of North America reached its maximum around the year 1150 C.E., then fell at least 30% by 1500. Those numbers were beginning to rebound when European conquest wreaked massive upheaval upon Indigenous societies. “This study is incredibly innovative,” says Carlton Shield Chief Gover, an archaeologist at the University of Kansas and citizen of the Pawnee Nation. “It’s the first large-scale data set looking at population trends by subregion.”

[...]

Kelly and colleagues emphasize the data should not be misconstrued to justify pernicious colonialist mythologies that Indigenous Americans were “a dying race” when Europeans showed up. “This is not an excuse for [Christopher] Columbus and what happened after,” adds Shield Chief Gover, who did not participate in the study but reviewed early drafts of the paper. (He also studied under the lead author as a graduate student.) “These are separate issues, and one does not justify the other.” María Nieves Zedeño, an archaeologist at the University of Arizona who was not involved in the study, says the bird’s-eye, continental view doesn’t fully capture local dynamics of areas that bucked the trend. “During the time of apparent decline, there were regions across North America that actually witnessed population growth,” she says. People living on the northern plains, she points out, saw their populations grow between 1500 and 250 years ago thanks to expansion of grasslands and bison herds and the innovation of better bows, arrows, and landscape engineering to manipulate prey. Despite the population boom in some areas, “the continental trend of population decline prior to European arrival is undeniable,” she says. The new study also questions the inevitability of the conquest of the content. If Europeans had arrived a few centuries earlier and faced much larger Indigenous populations and well-organized tribal confederacies, the study authors conclude, “the history of North America might have been very different.”

3 February 2025