#digital pathology research

[athenese-dx]

WE ARE HIRING! Join our team. Apply Now → https://athenesedx.com/career/

athenesedx #IVD #clinical #india #chennai #contentwriter #clinicalstudy #paperpublish #article #articlewriter #clinicalstudies #comparativestudy #marketingcontent #phd #lifescience #lifesciencestudy #lifesciencejobs #hire #hiringnow #HiringAlert #clinicalstudyspecialist #researchanddevelopment

[trendtrackershq]

𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭: https://www.nextmsc.com/digital-pathology-market/request-sample

As we continue to witness advancements in healthcare technology, the 𝐃𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭 is poised for remarkable growth. With the integration of AI, machine learning, and digital imaging, the field of pathology is undergoing a transformative journey.

𝐊𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬:

𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲: Digital pathology solutions streamline workflows, enabling pathologists to analyze slides more efficiently and accurately. This leads to faster diagnosis and treatment decisions, ultimately improving patient outcomes.

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞 ��𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: The ability to access digital slides remotely allows for collaboration among pathologists across different locations. This facilitates knowledge sharing and enhances diagnostic accuracy through collective expertise.

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐈: Artificial intelligence algorithms are revolutionizing pathology by assisting in tasks such as image analysis, pattern recognition, and predictive diagnostics. This synergy between human expertise and AI capabilities is driving innovation in disease detection and classification.

𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲: Telepathology services are expanding accessibility to pathology expertise in underserved regions, bridging the gap between patients and specialists. This remote consultation model enhances healthcare delivery, particularly in remote or rural areas.

𝐌𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬: Lucrative growth opportunities make the digital pathology market extremely competitive. Some of the major players in the market are Danaher Corporation, 3DHISTECH - The Digital Pathology Company, Glencoe Software, Indica Labs, Nikon, PerkinElmer, Roche, Visiopharm, and more.

𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭: https://www.nextmsc.com/report/digital-pathology-market

𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞:

As we navigate the evolving landscape of healthcare, embracing digital pathology technologies is crucial for enhancing diagnostic accuracy, improving patient care, and advancing medical research. Together, let's harness the power of digital innovation to revolutionize the way we approach pathology and ultimately, transform healthcare for the better.

[glintlab]

Located in San Diego, Glint Lab is a leading Contract Research Organization (CRO) specializing in histopathology and Digital Pathology services tailored for small to midsize biopharmaceutical companies. Beyond traditional lab services, we are a dedicated team of experienced histologists and scientists committed to advancing preclinical and early drug discovery. 

[dpathucgconforences]

[sgiandubh]

The case against 'sharenting'

Yesterday, an Anon @bat-cat-reader got made me think. Long and hard, far and wide - research included.

Here is the Anon: https://www.tumblr.com/bat-cat-reader/750859423333908480/lo-bueno-de-estar-revisando-redes-constantemente?source=share . I wanted to piggyback first, then I realized the issue was way more important than the person in question. And decided to post everything separately.

Loved this very matter of fact, calm Anon and I totally agree with what was said about overexposing a child online.

This sudden surge of completely inappropriate information about that child raised an eyebrow, and then some more. It begs, as always when dealing with minors, the question of privacy, as opposed to using their image for what obviously is self-promotion. And more generally, what is called 'sharenting', a portmanteau combining 'sharing' (info) and 'parenting' that was quite recently invented by The Wall Street Journal to describe a more and more widespread phenomenon.

That some parents would just love to have and even share digital mementoes of their child(ren) is apparently ok. Others, however, choose to monetize their kids, turning them into a sales argument. I am still floored at such disingenuous choices, that might have serious consequences for their future. And I am not the only one, mind you: a 2018 report by England's Children Commissioner, the leading government official competent for protecting and promoting children's rights, found out that parental digital oversharing is a high risk behavior for the child.

Short term, as in identity theft ...

... to long term, as in lost academic or professional opportunities - the 2018 warning made only more compelling by the recent AI craze:

[Source: England's Children Commissioner Report 'Who Knows What About Me?', 2018 - online: https://assets.childrenscommissioner.gov.uk/wpuploads/2018/11/cco-who-knows-what-about-me.pdf]

You'll find this very recent article from The Guardian absolutely enlightening, too. I certainly did: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/feb/26/son-social-media-parents-children

Particularly this - I am not a mom, so Mordor bitches will certainly point this salient detail out, you see. But maybe this journalist mom's POV could give them (and maybe even other people) pause:

Pedophile. Quite chilling, right? Pedophile rings actively searching for children photos inadvertently being shared online, to feed sick obsessions worldwide (do not be parochial and think those pics must be of an ambiguous nature!). Instagram being currently in very hot water for its strange content promoting algorithm, allowing pedophiles to easily access children photos and personal data, based on exif. Digital kidnapping, as in criminals pretending to be the child's parents, for various financial or pathological reasons.

Think I am a stupid, stupid shipper with an agenda? Then so is the US House of Representatives Energy and Commerce Commission. Last year, a joint statement has been released by two if its members (and before Mordor starts screeching about 'the MAGA mommies obsession for pedophilia', let it be said it is a bipartisan, Democrat and Republican initiative), about the fact that 'Instagram hosts a vast network of pedophilic content and that its algorithms are actively driving users to this content':

[Source: https://energycommerce.house.gov/posts/pallone-rodgers-demand-answers-from-instagram-after-reports-the-platform-is-driving-users-to-child-sex-abuse-material]

It followed a long report on Instagram's less than responsible practices in the matter, published by The Wall Street Journal, not your next door digital gossip rag (subscribers only, but you'll have an idea: https://www.wsj.com/articles/instagram-vast-pedophile-network-4ab7189?st=mbga8lpdddfm5dh&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink)

Mark this statement: 'It is clear these companies cannot be trusted to protect children on their platforms'. I, not even a mom (but an aunt, a friend and a godmother, too), cannot even start to express my disgust at the hypocrisy of barely hiding children's faces on a certain blog, but at the same time allowing rabid speculation about a child's whereabouts, based on what is clearly a case of sharenting. All the mothers, grandmothers and aunts commenting under that post would have to take a long, hard look at themselves in a mirror. And also ask themselves why they allowed their personal fantasy to get an upper hand on common sense?

That is a terrible, terrible shame. And then people wonder why is C not sharing anything? Would you share your kid(s) to that mob? I wouldn't and it is my strong belief no mother in her right mind would.

Last but not least, reckless digital behavior comes with risks, costs and consequences. Including legal ones, taking into account what very probably is some loose, rather informal agreement of co-parenting (as opposed to a stricter, 50/50 shared custody system), as per Scottish family law. Something I shall briefly try to explain, for context purposes only:

Unlike many other legal systems in the world, the 1995 Scottish Children Act has a slightly different approach to custody (or what they call 'residence'), in which the child's best interest, as well as the parents' own agreement (called a Parenting Plan) are paramount. By the same token, it does not matter if the parents were married or just common law partners, for example. This allows for less cumbersome living and financial arrangements, provided the two parties agree, and also for quicker procedures, as the law does not encourage parents to go to Court, if an agreement has been reached ('no-order principle'). Mediation and legal assistance services are readily available to make every particular case fit in the local Parenting Plan framework. On the other hand, because in legal matters all things are (must be, really) symmetrical, it is relatively easy to have parental rights and responsibilities enforced (example: issue an order stipulating to cease and desist from posting on Instagram), or even removed, in Court. While removal is a bit of a hassle (supporting statements are required, either from an independent witness/not a relative or Social Welfare Services), the enforcement is way easier and just requires a basic contradictory procedure in Court.

For example, a child's proven overexposure on the Internet can very well be successfully contended in Court, if things go South. Especially in an emotionally loaded local context:

[Source: https://news.sky.com/story/seven-members-of-paedophile-gang-guilty-of-running-monstrous-child-sex-abuse-ring-13008082 - you read the article if you want, it's brutal]

I am not saying this will happen. What I am trying to say is simply that nobody (and I repeat: nobody) should play with fire, like this. Neither the parent, nor the public. This is a plea for decency across the dashboard I strongly felt I should make, if others won't.

No shitshow, no fantasy, no obsession should ever put a child's life at potential risk like that. You see, children are rarely asked if they would like to be shown off as circus monkeys.

[trans-femme-fag-dyke]

T4T sEggs Cracking

Sex changes when you transition as a t-girl. New realities come into focus. New turn-ons emerge. A world of novel psychological and physiological experiences are added to the mix, or replace it entirely. Hormones and their impact terraform the ecology into a mycelial divine feminine, replete with new pleasure pathways. In short, it is wild and beautiful, feral and oozing with potential.

What I wasn’t prepared for, though, was how transfiguring the experience of T4T sex would be. Not by a mile.

Degrading Glorification

(What follows is a dual narrative, embellished and made whole by my lover’s own description of our tryst, which may I tell you is really fucking hot. Anyone who finds discovery and meaning in the process of writing has my attention and, most likely, my lust).

Just another day on Grindr receiving unsolicited dick pic after dick pic from people who ignore my profile’s clear insistence on T4T only.

While I don’t avail myself of these opportunities, there is something to be said for the euphoria that comes from being seen by cishets as a girl. Even seeing me as an attractive t-girl, if they’re purely fetishizing that tribal identifier, doesn’t hurt. Having spent too many years in the closet as a boy-modular gay, I am immune to the aggression of those advances and treat it more like a research project, tagging each new appendage into its relevant mental taxonomy: thick, thin, black, white, clean, cum-covered, veiny, etc. Back in the day, these advances were perfectly acceptable — direct, to the point, like the hawking of wares in a saturated meat market. I was less interested in what they were attached to as I was in their function. Emotion and personality were cast aside.

As a t-girl, though, there is a crossing of the privilege divide into an East Berlin of fear and insecurity. Too often, and too unpublicized, are the examples of anti-trans violence that it’s simply not the same fuck economy that it used to be. And anyway, my orientation has changed.

Orientation shift in transition is a topic that could command an entire thesis, so I won’t go into it here. Suffice it to say that almost overnight, as the estrogen moved through my body, I lost my interest in gay or straight men. Perhaps because being with a gay guy, although still on the table before secondary sex characteristics set in and I could stealthily navigate those penetrations, would send a dysphoric signal deep into my programming.

I find myself attracted to trans energy mostly.

Grindr is a numbers game in Los Angeles. There’s so much flakiness you become accustomed to being ignored or conversations end abruptly. Not to mention that hooking up here is so governed by travel times which fluctuate wildly throughout the days asymmetrical commuting times, that the whole affair can be a non-started at the outset.

But she responded. Glorious brunette, with long wavy hair, small pursed lips and an aloofness that immediately activated my pathological desire of the emotionally unavailable. What can I say, my mother fucked me up.

She — let’s call her Adeline — lived about 10 minutes away, so in an abundance of well-heeled politeness cut with impatient lust, I went to pick her up.

Cue the usual slightly coy banter as we both worked each other out during the ride. The dissipation of fear which comes with these Grindr “dates” for traps, which always carry a soupçon of terror to them and see us scrambling to etch a last will and testament into our iPhone notes app and share location with friends as it plays out.

I emerged from the bathroom topless.

Oh fuck, she thought, nipple piercings. The most physical symbol of deviance there is.

We started making out on the sofa and immediately some force took a hold of me. I felt like our bodies were fusing inside a blacksmith’s forge. We were glitching like a hacked mainframe, opening up its secrets to Snowden’s deft digital lock-picking. We were like people who hadn’t eaten in days set loose on a Vegas buffet.

I ran my hands over her back and through her hair, interlocking my teeth around her neck and ears. Almost epileptic in spasms of uncontrollable, uncensored I searched for my frontal cortex and managed to articulate that we should move to the bedroom.

My friend S had told me to expect fireworks in my first T4T experience. Their look of both shock and empathetic excitement registered on their FaceTime framed face.

They hinted at the dynamic’s incendiary force with an elliptical smile, leaving me hanging like a teaser trailer.

“I can’t explain it, but there’s just something to that energy, that vibe. I’m so excited for you. Like fucking excited!”

And Jesus fucking christ, they were right. I can see why they held off on the detail. Language fails.

We made our way to the bedroom where I revealed my kink drawer. There’s a cornucopia of debauchery in this unassuming pine wood piece of furniture: masks, paddles, leashes, collars, nipple clamps and floggers.

We negotiated our limits, settling on consensual non-consent. In short, anything goes.

We couldn’t have been more perfectly matched. When she initially shared photos with me on the app she gave a trigger warning around the bruises I’d see. It just so happened that impact play and relishing in the blues, browns, yellows and purples of corporeal graffiti aftermath was something we shared.

“I don’t care if you draw blood,” I assured her.

“Well ok then, you pathetic little slut,” she hissed, “lay the fuck down.”

I hadn’t fully anticipated how rapidly she would turn on the sadistic domme energy and I didn’t question it. I couldn’t.

Mmmmmmmmm, mama’s hungry, I thought as my crotch began to throb.

I don’t need to pull my punches, she thought, I can really indulge this deeper cruelty in me.

“Yes, mistress!” I responded, getting into role as the slut spit dump I’d soon become.

I lay down.

“Open wide, slut,” she ordered as she spat on my face, all the while positioning her mouth over mine and dribbling long translucent threads of drool onto my tongue and down my throat. She lunged for my neck with lupine grace and hunger, digging her teeth in and unleashing eddies of dopamine and oxytocin. I could feel the fledgling bruises on my neck and knew they’d be difficult to hide but at this point she could have pushed a blade into my lungs and I’d have kissed her while the blood bubbled out of my mouth.

These were feelings I had never felt before.

It was like all my shame, low self-esteem, trauma, alienation, anxiety and isolation channeled a lightning strike turning sand into clear shards of luminescent glass.

It felt both individual and collective, all ruptures and salvation of minority stressed gender fuckery, raining down and being soaked up. An effervescent tribal alchemy of ecstatic release.

The power of consensual degradation cannot be underestimated. I took years of being trodden down by things beyond my control. The abuse of my mother, the deprivation of affection, the laundering of all currencies of love through a front of cold calculation. All of this turned to steam through the act of my submitting to it with someone who also made me vibrate with light. All of those times when I had no fucking say in what happened to me, as humanity depriving as it was and violently unfair, I now took back. I resignified it, reclaimed it, decolonized and liberated it.

She attached the leash to my collar and yanked me onto the floor.

“If you’re a good girl, you’ll get a treat.” She said sternly, with the consummate control of a well-etched domme.

Up until now, she’d only really experimented with this role but now, she leapt up into the saddle ready for battle. From where I crouched, lapping up her girl dick with such an eagerness to please, it felt like she’d been doing this all her life.

In the dawn of her 20s, this girl came with a level of sexual confidence and experience that can only be found in trans circles. It’s like our bodies are always searching for each other with odyssean ardor. Simultaneous electrons suspended in tandem states.

I clambered back onto the bed like a dog and she straddled me, our girl dicks entwined in her hand with a vibrator in between. Edging, foreplay, the beautiful mirage of the female orgasm which rises and falls, ebbs and flows, coming into focus then going blurry as the mind and the body speaks in foreign tongues.

It was the kind of sex you never want to end. Constant punishment, submission, bratty deliberate misbehavior, retaliation, good behavior and treats.

“You told me you were going to cum you fucking whore. Well, are you?!” she cursed.

“Fuck my pussy, mistress. I need something in me so I can cum for you.”

One, two, then three fingers entered me as she celebrated my gaping hole.

“I love how loose you are.”

Ugh, I felt so seen. I’ve been trying to make my ass loose for years. It’s been one of my sexual north stars. I want to be able to get entire cities inside me. Until my neo-puzzy arrives, my ass has been my pussy substitute and I’ve wanted her to stretch until my bud becomes labia and turns from circle into that canal like corridor of floral ingress.

It didn’t take long, with my ass full of her hand, and I reached that liquidless trap climax and lay there panting, dripping in spit, sweat, and a sense of sexed gender euphoria I had waited 39 years to feel.

Who knew that in order to feel my most beautiful, it would take this level of degradation.

We languished, dripping in sweat and overtaken by an exhaustion which was held in abeyance by the relentless motor of sex.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to do that again,” I said, with the last remaining energy and breath left in me.

“We might not be able to. I’m probably moving to Berlin in a few weeks,” she responded with a signature level of matter-of-factness and regret.

Afterword

This is a post from Threads that resonated with me.

@aspirationaltea I think this post is me realizing T4T lesbian is the full explanation of my sexuality at least?

That’s how I walked away from the experience with Adeline. Literally and figuratively changed forever. In one fell swoop a single lover had the power to make me feel seen for the first time in my life.

Now of course any first time has the potential to carry the hyperbole of its impact. But the water that slacks the thirst of the desert stranded is the exact same water we all drink. The difference, however, is life saving.

I would usually chalk up an experience without more penetration as fun but not fulfilling. In this scene I had a few fingers inside me for a few minutes. And yet I lost all sense of time and place, sinking into the experience like feet in clittoral sand.

It was pure T4T lesbian sex, as much connection, edging and build as it was a wham bam teleology. The purpose was communion and connection.

T4T sex transfigures and transubstantiates the entire experience into a physical act. Inside every bite, kiss, spit, yank, finger and curse, was a microcosm of the entire experience of trans identity. Eucharist anointed trap fantasy.

Our shared struggles, estrogen shortages, dirty glances turned our way, rejections. Our alignments, the joyful tears t-girls shed over the smallest things as their emotional synapses reinitiate, our first sports bra. Everything is there, unspoken but enacted ritualistically like the world is burning all around us and we carry on regardless. Which is, alas, what it feels like a lot of the time.

At the core of the experience was the abiding sense of safety which comes from being intimate with someone who knows how important it is to cultivate that in as many spaces, few though they may be, as possible.

In addition, the dimension of kink/BDSM brings its own magnetic locus of individuation and resignification. We find submission, abjectification, degradation, and pain paired up with consent, control, compassion, negotiation, communication, and transcendence. We recontextualize experiences which in every other life domain are precursors or consequences of socially aberrant behavior or undesirable hierarchical role playing.

Whether the sub is in control or the dom is, just as with tops and bottoms, is a question for the ages. The person under the thumb, in so allowing it, arguably possesses some power over the person they artificially and consensually elevate to that position. When you have nothing to lose because you have relinquished it, you can only be net positive existentially.

The point is the horizontal socialism of the trans lesbian experience. No one person controls. All are equal and the roleplay is merely an enactment of the end of dominion by external forces.

For what baits the enemy like getting back on your feet or smiling in their face? As blood streams out of your nostrils and you turn to face your captor ready for another beating, you demonstrate an unwavering faith in the ultimate form of the Golden Rule: if your enemy strikes you, turn the other cheek and ask, “Have I been a good girl, Mistress?”

[my-neurodivergent-education]

Neurodivergent Resources - Websites

Here's a list of some of my favourite websites to do with neurodivergence, specifically Autism and ADHD. I'll add to the list if I find any more good ones. Let me know if you have any recommendations!

Neurodivergent Insights

Key Features: Blog, Shop, Community, Training, Digital Downloads

Content: Autism, ADHD, Education, Practical Advice, Lived Experience

Something I liked: The Autistic and ADHD Nervous System

NeuroClastic

Key Features: Nonprofit, Blog, Shop, Digital Downloads

Content: Autism, Education, Lived Experience, Research, Advocacy

Something I liked: What Is Autism?

Reframing Autism

Key Features: Nonprofit, Blog, Training, Digital Downloads, Podcasts, Webinars, News

Content: Autism, Education, Practical Advice, Lived Experience, Advocacy

Something I liked: Autism Essentials (free course)

All Brains Belong

Key Features: Nonprofit, Blog, Community, Training, Digital Downloads

Content: ADHD, Autism, Education, Advocacy, Lived Experience, Practical Advice

Something I liked: Everything Is Connected to Everything: Improving the Healthcare of Autistic and ADHD Adults

Neurodivergent Narratives

Key Features: Blog, Podcasts

Content: ADHD, Education, Lived Experience

Something I liked: Neurodivergence, Intersectionality & Me

Embrace Autism

Key Features: Blog, Screening Tools

Content: Autism, Education, Practical Advice, Lived Experience

Something I liked: Autism & Camouflaging

ADDitude

Key Features: Blog, Screening Tools, Shop, Community, Digital Downloads, News, Podcasts, Webinars

Content: ADHD, Education, Practical Advice, Lived Experience

Something I liked: Understanding Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria

Neuroqueer

Key Features: Blog

Content: Autism, Education, Lived Experience, Advocacy, Research

Something I liked: Throw Away the Master's Tools: Liberating Ourselves from the Pathology Paradigm

ASAN (Autistic Self-Advocacy Network)

Key Features: Nonprofit, News, Digital Downloads

Content: Autism, Advocacy, Education

Something I liked: Welcome to the Autistic Community

Autistica

Key Features: Nonprofit, Blog

Content: Autism, Education, Research, Lived Experience, Advocacy, Practical Advice

Something I liked: Supporting Autistic People Who Are Overwhelmed or Having a Meltdown

[firespirited]

thought I might add a little to a question unanswered by the video essay: the why?

not as an excuse, not a full explanation either because there's still the matter of the Telos money.

but why does a man live, breath and eat for his channel/career without the passion for researching and learning?

I can tell you that he truly *did* devote his entire time and energy to producing videos and engaging with the commentariat as a full time job, though if the video scripts were copy paste. He probably feels like he's devoted his entire soul for years into this project and the copy paste was "just" to keep up with the youtube once a week upload demands.

IMHO, what we have is a bloke with crippling anxiety, loneliness and body dysmorphia with a pathological fear of rejection who attempted to build an online queer community that wouldn't ever let him down. As far i can can tell he barely left the house, didn't date and i started to wonder if he really had moved when he wasn't visiting any of Toronto's very gay friendly places or even some of the museums and libraries, wasn't making any local connexions even when people reached out. Instead, he spent his weekends chatting online (often on livestream) about gay media, business, youtube and film making.

I think he could have built that safe haven if he'd kept the day job, produced a fully credited video once a month which was in the format of let's watch this documentary, let's read this book, let's dive into a topic and read the various articles followed by his livestream chats. There is clearly an audience eager for it.

and that's where it gets uncomfortable, right? the lines blur between shyness + not wanting to be hurt vs not collaborating and not being part of other established groups. Canada not only has multiple gay filmmaking scenes, advocacy groups and even a whole bunch of Canadian queer youtubers. They don't have to all get along, because there's more than just the Canada based breadtube, there are a lot of smaller channels that'd love the opportunity to network.

Anyway, it was during a live that i bought up some local Canadian networking opportunity, he backed off quite hard in a way that felt like a little bit more than anxiety about the fierce competition that goes on for such stuff. It felt vaguely like Little Britain's "The Only Gay in the Village" but mostly I was reminded of folks in my life who decided to forge their own paths in charity work and activism, specifically the very dodgy intersection between missionary work and charity and charities that are about the joy of bringing fish to the hungry instead of helping the locals who know how to fish get the new motor for their boat. It's actually a really complex and nuanced conversation where sometimes the least colonialist choice is to hold your nose and work with the local catholic church - yeah I know, that level of complicated, here's some reading before I start on the importance of translating books to creoles being a better investment than teaching english to match an english curriculum and how relief work is often predatory business opportunities and how secularism is a tightrope balancing act and don't get me started.

It is possible to walk and chew gum and listen to music at the same time. We can talk about how plagiarism is bad, how the algorithm rewards it, how this guy is probably getting more ire than the right wing grifters also brought up, why left tube maybe feels a lil intimidating, why people build their own little digital or offline communes, how being an educator and being a thought leader get smooshed together in an attention economy that wants to create influencers with a parasocial engagement with folks that want personal guidance, sometimes stolen valour/plagiarism/fake cancer is for power and clout and sometimes it's a maladaptive response to a desperate loneliness I hope I never fully comprehend.

[unpickled-olive]

brain is healing

I've always been depressed, but before grad school, I had interests. I was teaching myself woodworking, building things, drawing plans, and restoring rusty hand planes. I had bought my first ever digital microphone and was recording (bad) music. I was practicing the violin on a semi-regular basis.

I also had hyperfixations. I always loved the experience of being obsessed with something for a few weeks at a time, even if I felt empty when the feeling passed. Spending three weeks learning about homesteading, or being a travel therapist, or rollerskating, or learning Arabic.

Grad school wasn't a decision I made out of passion but out of necessity. After getting my Bachelor's in Linguistics (not a hireable degree but an extremely interesting one), I went as far I could with entry-level jobs before going broke and having a mental breakdown. So I decided that if I couldn't find a job I was passionate about, I would get one that where I could 1. decently support myself, 2. do something meaningful for others, and 3. have the freedom to pursue passions outside of work. My dream job became one where I worked 3.5 days a week.

The conclusion was to build upon my background in linguistics and go into healthcare via speech-language pathology.

But when grad school started, I noticed how quickly all of my passion evaporated. Over night, there was suddenly no more planning, drawing, violin-making.

From week 2 to week 100 of school, I didn't have any thoughts about it. I was emotionally drained and too busy to think about enjoying life. I felt like I'd sold my soul for a stable job and when summer and, winter breaks didn't allow me to do anything but sleep, I figured I would be like that forever.

The one creative thing I did that entire time was write a short little sci-fi story. While trying to read a research paper in the student lounge, I suddenly had an idea and deleted the notes I was taking. For three hours, I did nothing but sit there and type. But due to how inundated in academia I was, it was both super morbid (a story about how Earth is the only planet where life degrades and dies due to ageing) and super academic (it took the form of a research paper written by horrified alien observers). I was so in that world that the only thing I could write had an abstract, an intro, a methodology, a results section, and a discussion.

I'm currently 4 months free of grad school (I say like I'm in recovery), and I've noticed that passion and interest are slowly dripping back into my life. I've spent the last few days reading about Proto-Indo-Europeans, just for fun. I read a BOOK. I'm contemplating building an English joiner's bench. I'm even motivated enough to post something personal on a blog no one will ever read.

These days, learning feels like it takes more effort than it did before. I have this feeling that there isn't room in my brain for any more things, so I shouldn't get too excited. It feels like that, and like the inertia of not having exercised in so long. But I notice this feeling lessening with each month.

This is all to say: grad school couldn't kill my soul forever—it could only kill it for two and a half years.