#i can and will write a dissertation on this

[headspace-hotel]

i need to be working on finals but instead i spent my time reading the crustiest pdf of some guy's dissertation about canebrakes from the 1930s

was it actually accepted? is it a reliable source? does this guy know anything about plants? who knows. with river cane we gotta take everything we can get. this is INVALUABLE info, I can't believe it took me this long to find it. this guy talked to people who were born in the 1850's about their memories of canebrakes. I doubt these personal testimonies are documented anywhere else.

and... it's devastating! even from the viewpoint of someone in the 1930's, there had been a systematic extermination of the canebrakes, where the impenetrable and acres-big bamboo forests of memory only remained in distantly rural areas. The author talks about dozens of specific sites in different US states that used to have extensive and huge canebrakes but the river cane was completely obliterated from them.

The oldest records consistently state that Arundinaria gigantea or Rivercane would reach 30-40 feet in height and 3-4 inches thick. Many different early colonial sources speak of river cane this size. At the time of the author, the cane he visited was mostly 15-20 feet tall or so. Nothing compared to the giant canebrakes of the past, he keeps reminding us. And nowadays—almost 100 years after the time of that writing!—it is very rare to find river cane even 10-12 feet tall, it is crammed into tiny little areas at the edges of roadsides, and hardly anybody even knows an American bamboo ever existed

It even mentioned the area where my Mamaw grew up, saying that the place was once covered in miles of canebrake! Mamaw says that she always remembered cane along the river sides, but when we visited there a couple years ago, I didn't see any cane at all

there's SO many good facts and testimonies about river cane in there but i'm just shaken cause from the authors perspective, the river cane had been devastated to a small remnant of what it once was, but nowadays, it is devastated to a small remnant of what THAT was.

Some researchers are kicking around a theory that passenger pigeons and Carolina parakeets were dependent upon river cane, and that's why they went extinct. One guy i've talked to believes passenger pigeons could have been responsible for distributing the seeds (we still don't really know how river cane seeds distribute)

Apparently back when canebrakes were so common that there was cane producing seeds all the time (an incredibly rare occurrence now) they provided an incredibly valuable food resource for wild animals. In fact some of the colonial writings quoted say that once the canebrakes died off in a certain area, the wild game would disappear!

I'm starting to believe in the "canebrakes + passenger pigeons/Carolina parakeets" theory. It makes sense that practically eradicating a whole biome/habitat would cause something to go extinct, and the timeline and habitat associations are right.

I will NEVER be capable of shutting up about the canebrakes. Imagine if we did such a good job at exterminating the bison that today, almost no one in the USA even knew what a bison was.

[adrianastrix]

Another thing I'll add here is something that I was coincidentally discussing with a friend yesterday: this kind of issue can only be solved if our science education (and I'm talking BOTH Natural Sciences and Humanities) doesn't rely on teachers being simply a source of "correct" information.

I put "correct" in quotes because guys. GUYS. I was in a comitee for quality control of kids science textbooks (ages 11-14), and Jesus Christ. It was a book written in the Year of Our Lord 2022 and it had a SLUR as an "alternative name" to Down Syndrome. Not to mention information that was BLATANT WRONG when you as much as googled the legal definition of a certain thing, and much much more. We obviously bombed it, but there's the kicker: the only thing our ban ensured is that this textbook collection is out of question for Brazilian public schools. Private schools can use it, if they want to.

Which means that even schools can and, as much as we try, will spread misinformation, even if it's in a small scale. The teacher in the Twitter thread very astutely identified it as a crisis of authority. If education is just a matter of relaying "correct facts", it all comes down to a matter of authority. And the poor teacher feels hopeless because she can't even say, in good faith, that her word is inherently better than ChatGPT or Wikipedia or TikTok because, guess what, she could be wrong. There's no such thing as infallible authority.

There's only one solution, one that Education Scientists (which ARE a thing, I'm one of them!) have been saying since, I dunno, THE 18TH CENTURY: giving kids an education centered in DOING science, not memorizing its products. The teacher started amazingly by asking the kid to "look it up" in front of her. But what she COULD have done, if prepared for this kind of challenge (I obviously don't fault her for freezing when confronted by something for the first time) was to ask for the notebook or cellphone and show the student what she meant by "look it up" and how the results vary. And tell him that NO single source should be trusted, either her or ChatGPT, and when sources disagree, what should be the tiebreaker?

In other words, the only antidote is showing the kids HOW science is done, HOW you arrive at conclusions, and HOW documental research is done. Science isn't something that Very Smart Geniuses do in their ivory towers to create The Truth. It's science, not a sacred religious ministery. Science is mundane, messy, controversial, and everyone* can do it with a bit of training, just like everyone* can cook or sing or draw with the proper training. [*"everyone", of course, being a rethorical generalization; obviously there are circunstances in which people might NOT be able to do it, or might need especialized assistance that others don't need, but those are the exceptions, not the rule.]

The main reason why our education is stuck in memorization and trying to out-authority the internet has a name: Standard Testing.

It's LEAGUES easier to test for how many facts someone can spew exclusively from memory (you just need a multiple choice test that can be graded by a machine) than it is to test students for their ability of create, research and communicate knowledge (the current optimal way to do it is the whole process of writing a monography/dissertation/thesis).

The whole EVALUATION system holds us down WAY more than the teaching methods themselves, because when you are teaching scientific abilities, you WON'T be sparing time to ensure that all your students are commiting definitions and formulas to mind. At the VERY least, tests should allow students to search for the info they need: this alone already demonstrate that student's ability to research, compare and choose correct information.

The idea that you can compare kids by a test that quantifies the amount of information they have on their heads, and that once they perform well on a test, that info is certified as correct and true is RIDICULOUS. Information on the brain degrades with time, unless you need it constantly. And people who grade tests are human, humans can be wrong. The accepted answer in a test can be wrong.

But we have to maintain the illusion that we can OBJECTIVELY rank students, schools, school systems and nations on how much knowledge they have. Otherwise, how investors will be reassured that they are "top quality"? How private education businesses can boast that they are "the best", thus justifying their price tag? How international banks will "ensure" that the amount of money countries are investing in education are being "correctly spent" (instead of being used to repay them)?

Soooo... ChatGPT is only the tip of the iceberg. There ARE ways for us to solve that problem, there HAS been ways for it since the 18th FREAKING century. But as long as they don't make the money people happy, as long as we expect school knowledge to take the form of a standard list of memorized correct info, we will still be ineffectively fighting the robots.

[aryesdanger24]

I'm done with comparisons here.

I need everyone to understand right here and right now.

Everyone had a good ending that befitted their character arc!

Spoilers below for the ending of Season 2 of Arcane, be advised.

We can be mad about Jayvik dying and not getting an absolute confirmation (though some may argue it is pretty clear) .

Some can be mad that there wasn't enough verbally said to add that romantic nature to CaitVi (once again, some may believe they have done more than enough)

IT ISNT A CONTEST!

I personally we are fortunate to have an ending that truly feels complete in some way. It was a good ending overall for everyone expectation wise.

Most of the time we get a physical show of love to confirm anything gay whereas lesbians often say some soft confirmation of love to be 'official' but this gave what media needed.

Lesbians showing a very physical and verbal show of their love while men are having their soft confirmation through verbalizing their love.

It's wonderful, even if you are unsatisfied by the ending for your ship (if you have one) that's why we have fanfiction, to explore what could have been.

You got a problem with the finale, write a what-if spinoff or write how it should have ended or what happened after the official ending.

Stop comparing Jayvik, CaitVi, and Time bomb. It's a waste of your time when you could be writing what you wished would happen in fanfic.

Be happy that the ending is something you can work with, be happy the possibility exists with a solid world built to utilize.

Heck, don't like the world? Build an AU (alternate universe) for them! Make them coffee shop owners, have them be military personnel, make them crazy European tourists!

Do something constructive and add to your Fandom instead of tearing down someone else's.

Getting mad at someone else's ship or flaunting about your own having a better ending is a waste of time and just literally detrimental to the show itself. Respect Arcane and what it was able to accomplish without push back, it is able to walk firmly because previous shows and their small steps.

So, in short, behave yourself. This may be the internet but your words stay forever. Don't try to bolster the status of your ship by pulling down someone else's.

If you feel called out by this, evaluate your recent behavior.

If you feel offended by this, really think about why you feel this way, because it probably isn't because of my language.

Yes yes, I know comparing shows is how we understand and make progress, but I am specifically talking about unhelpful dissertations or memes that specify a ship.

It's fine to write a logical explanation of why you prefer a different ship. It's absolutely fine to explain how something could have been better or evaluate the show and what it has done and could do better.

What's not fine is bashing it because your ship didn't have what you deem a good ending.

Not all people have good endings, not all characters will achieve their good ending despite how good they may be. That's simply the truth of reality and sometimes an author wants their story to mirror their idea of truth.

Respect the show and the work people put in it, and respect that someone else's joy does not deserve your anger just out spite.

[cthulhusstepmom]

What Is and What Could Be

Down in the bayou it’s never silent. The air is filled with the shrill calls of a million marsh birds, underscored by the harmonies of cicadas, crickets, and whining mosquitos. With a tempo set by croaking bullfrogs and sluggishly churning water, urged along by hooting owls and supported by the bass tones of bellowing gators. The song of the swamp is a busy tune, not unlike the brassy jazz played by those that live there. And if you know how to listen just right, it can tell you no shortage of things. 

In a warm and humid tavern a group of adventurers sits around a table, glancing furtively this way and that, squirming slightly under the judgemental stare of the more naturalized citizens. Things don’t often change in the bayou, it’s a wild place, untamed. Civilization has tried to reach within before and without fail it’s been pushed back with prejudice, those that do live here are proud of it and somewhat by design they tend to be a rather insular folk. By and large this means they don’t take kindly to most strangers. Particularly strangers that show up asking questions .

And this crew had been asking plenty, beyond the glaring offense of very clearly not being from around this neck of the woods. 

They rolled into town a few days ago, talking like Galticans or similar enough to them, and by the look in their eyes: running from who knows what. They found rooms at one of the nicer inns, kept to themselves and tipped decent enough(it takes more than that to ingratiate yourselves to the folk of Agwé) before they started asking things. Innocuous at first. They wanted to know about the circus going on just out of town, who the mayor was(useless question) and who was really in charge(that one earned them some begrudging respect). Then they dug deeper, asked about other people. Powerful people. People who are none too fond of having their business nosed about. 

However, if there’s one thing the people of Agwé like more than being stalwartly unhelpful to those they dislike, it’s watching someone else be stalwartly unhelpful and commentating on it over Sunday brunch and mimosas. 

“I’ll tell you what, you go on over to that carnival a ways outta town and I reckon you’ll find who you’re looking for.” A greasy tabaxi offers between wiping tables, battered tail flicking back and forth with a hard to determine emotion. “I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you, it won’t be in town much longer.” The Tabaxi returns to his business with a glinting smile and a few gold pieces that were well worth the trouble. If city slickers wanna go poking beehives it’s not his business to stop them, especially if he’s compensated for handing them the stick. 

The carnival itself is in full swing when they arrive, flashing lights and smells both sweet and savory assaulting their senses from the get go. The operation is staffed by a motley crew of goblinoids, bullywugs, humans, kobolds, and anything else one could reasonably imagine; in the corner of her vision, the half elven leader of the group of adventurers even catches sight of what look to be a few pixies working the crowd though the tide of patrons sways and they’re obscured before she can be fully certain. 

Games line the thoroughfare all of which, from the looks of a surreptitious investigation, appear to be thoroughly if subtly rigged. Arching above the sea of people is an impressive ferris wheel, bedazzled with twinkling magical lights as it turns and turns. Near it, a calliope booms a cheery tune over the sounds of hawking carnival workers, screaming children, and laughing patrons. A map near the entrance advertises a hall of mirrors, a freak show, and hourly performances in the red and white striped big top including a magic show, fire dancing, beast taming, and a spectacle led by the carnival owner at noon and midnight. Perusing through the carnival, wandering and wondering just how they’re meant to find anyone here let alone the one man they seek, the party save one(a dragonborn with a hand harp strapped to his side) seems oblivious to an odd quirk of this particular carnival. There doesn’t seem to be any clowns.

Their hotheaded gnome companion is easily egged into a game of strength(taunted all the while by a colorful lizardfolk wearing the symbol of the carnival), black eyes glitter with excitement as their minotaur begs to go to the big top to see the beasts in the next show as the small pseudodragon on his shoulder makes similar pleading motions, a disinterested rabbitfolk quickly snatches her hands away from a passing purse under the stern reprimand of an androgynous human with subtly glowing eyes. They come to the conclusion that they should split, agreeing that they will meet at the big top in an hour for the Spectacular, all concluding that should be their best chance to get an audience with who they seek. 

As they go their separate ways(one pair to the big top, one pair to the freak show, one making her way down the alley of carnival games and the last picking his way towards the concessions) the party is pulled into the atmosphere of merriment and none of them perceive the very distinct feeling of predatory eyes locked on their every move.

The party never gets a chance to reconvene at the big top. 

Instead, throughout the hour each one meets a disparate misfortune. The half elven woman drops to her knees at the edge of the thoroughfare, clutching her head in pain as the hand reaching for a holy symbol falls limp.

Behind her, the human spins about in panic, muttering a few infernal words before a hand is clamped over their mouth and ether slowly calms their struggling limbs. 

At a dart game, the dragonborn reaches to claim his prize and suddenly finds himself somewhere else entirely with only a moment to scream before his mind is enveloped in darkness and he falls to the ground fast asleep. 

In the large circus tent, the harengon thief is escorted away from her thoroughly distracted friend by a mysterious tabaxi claiming to be security, receiving a sharp blow to the temple as they walk towards a ‘holding cell’. 

Within the hall of mirrors, a black and orange hand reaches forth and yanks the furs worn by the gnome; sending her careening through the glass-turned-portal. 

Last to go is the minotaur. Enamored by the performance, he couldn’t pass up a chance to speak with the beastmaster of the carnival: an old goblin with an easy smile and a worn wooden ocarina. The only moment of warning he had was a deep hoot behind him before the world went dark.

Some indeterminate time later the human is wrenched from unconsciousness by a familiar, if perpetually jarring, voice shouting within their mind. In swift order they endeavor to wake the others, attempting to take stock of the situation. Their surroundings are dark, what little light is present struggles to illuminate anything through heavy curtains drawn over wide windows. Beneath them is an opulent rug, the color of which is hard to discern in the low light, and under that are tight wooden floorboards that match the walls of this space. What they can see of the walls anyway; most of the space is taken by lavish hangings and shelves of kick knacks, the one closest to them holds a beat up silver cigarette case, a small wooden figure of a two headed vulture, a clockwork dragonfly, a crocheted doily, a hip flask, and a vial that looks to house a small lily pad floating in water amongst a few other things. The air is thick with the scent of quality tobacco and warm food and the ambience it creates might even be homey and welcoming in the right circumstances. Though now, tied securely to chairs with no idea how they got there, it seems rather daunting. 

Spatially, the room is quite large. Wide enough for six chairs with displeased adventurers to be lined up side by side with a foot or so of walking room on one side. It’s longer than it is wide, maybe twice over though it’s hard to tell; the windows are positioned opposite each other in the very center of each wall, what light that escapes the curtains quickly stifles in almost absolute darkness before it reveals any sign of a far wall, at least to disadvantaged human eyes. What does catch their gaze and take their breath away are a pair of glowing dull magenta dots in the darkness. No, that’s not quite right. Not dots. Eyes . 

From the gasps coming from their left and right, some of the human’s more visually attuned party members have also perceived the eyes, and most likely the creature attached to them, whatever horrific beast it may be. 

Soon after they discover their predicament, the air is filled with the muffled noises of the carnivalé outside and underneath the muted cacophony the occasional grunt over a chorus of heavy breathing(the Thing on the other end of the room doesn’t move a single muscle, doesn’t even seem to breathe), a sliver of light falls upon the interior of the wagon. 

Creaaaaaaak. 

A door on the far side of the wagon opens. 

It takes a moment for the adventurers to get their bearing in the new light, when they do they first notice the creature connected to those dully shining eyes. 

A large bugbear stands against the far wall. He stands tall, the tips of his bat-like ears almost brushing the ceiling, limbs corded with lithe muscle, and a severe bearing that hints at confidence and ferocity. Running over his arms and up under his sleeves are large spots devoid of any of the dense brown fur that covers the rest of him, a closer look reveals thick rings of angry scar tissue, long healed but clearly agonizing once.

As the bugbear moves away from the opening door he reveals these new variables to their unfortunate situation. 

Stepping into the room with twin, thudding, clanks , a large fire genasi drags a pair of thick chains across the floor attached to weathered manacles that cover his forearms. The genasi is broad, with muscles that speak of hard labor and sheer physical power. His face is creased with deep laugh lines though the only smile on his lips at the moment is a malicious smirk as he reaches behind him to hold the door open. 

Lastly, a lizardfolk gentleman strolls through the door. He moves with the assured ease of a man who holds all the cards. Wearing a sharp purple suit, hand gripping the amethyst skull atop an ornate cane, the lizardfolk takes his time setting his top hat on a stand in the corner, breezing under the watchful eyes of the bugbear without a care for the sharp claws hovering near his snout. When he finally seats himself in a commanding armchair set front and center of the room, he casually fishes in his suit coat before withdrawing a sleek black cigarette holder and a cigarette from a mother of pearl case. It’s hardly in his hand for more than a second before the genasi at his shoulder provides a light at the tip of his finger before leaning with crossed arms on the back of the chair. As his back makes contact with the leather, a spidery hand covered in fur proffers a crystal tumbler of dark alcohol. 

After a long, weighted silence and a luxurious draw from the cigarette, he speaks. 

“What a do friends …”

[hellsitegenetics]

Can U blast this https://urbanshade.org/wiki/Documents/Sebastian_Solace pls

String identified: caTatcaaaaaataactGTtttatcagcatcttcagtctaaaattattatcttataCAagtataaaCCTaatccatttatacattcctaccatccttttattagtCAcatacatagataatatttgtccataAtggtctatattccagagtattGaaacggcaaccaactaaatatctatccagatctagacggttaCACCTcattagttacgtatacttatatctaacattatctgaaggtgatgctaaaattagaattaagaatAtgctactttatcgattgaagtaaatagtctaatctatctccaacaaaacttaaacacaaaacttatattgaggAtaaaaaaagattaatatagaaaattttataaccagatattatattaacttctTctctatttctatgcacatatGagattactTtagttatattattcactttatcattattaaaccaacttcaattcacataAtttgtattgaagtattatacattactatattaaaccatatactaagtctatttattacttattcaagacacaAtttaggttatagaatttttatagaaacagtgtttgctaacctcatagaaaatcctaccaatatactaaattctttaatctaaatattagtttggg

Closest match: Balaenoptera musculus genome assembly, ██████ ████████ genome assembly, Microcephalophis gracilis genome assembly, Carcharodon carcharias genome assembly, Bufoceratias wedli mutated genome assembly, Diretmus argenteus genome assembly, Gonodactylus smithii genome assembly, Homo sapiens genome assembly Common name: THAT FUCKING FISH THAT I HATE

(If this image source is shown to unauthorized personnel, you'll be BLASTed with my wizard beams)

[solarpirates]

Yeah! There is actually a dissertation that does a queer reading of the (straight) romance genre, and I think this can also be applied to m/m romantic/erotic stories. One of its conclusions is that there is indeed something queer and homoerotic about women writing sexually and romantically arousing stories with other women as their primary target group, and the other way around. (Another, that I loved and that I also think can be applied to both yaoi and fanfiction was that one of the reasons that the romance is so looked down on is that it goes against women’s contributions to society as mothers, wives and bearers of children, instead turning us away from society and into masturbators.)

The dissertation is called Enahanda läsning by Elin Abrahamsson. It’s written in Swedish but there’s an abstract in English and she’s also written relevant papers.

*sage voice*: is it not a little bit yuri to write yaoi in order to turn other women on?

[leonardcohenofficial]

it really does amaze me that i got to write a whole dissertation project on brecht and the monkees and nina simone and bob dylan and leonard cohen and phil ochs and star trek and starsky and hutch and the smothers brothers and harry belafonte and all these subjects and pieces of art that have meant so much to me that i absolutely love and while it did feel like it was held together by glue and popsicle sticks and string at points i had a committee who really understood my project and were so supportive of me writing about this era of performance and protest and alienation and while it was one of the hardest things i've ever done i am so happy not only that i finished with a phd but that i got to forge so many amazing connections along the way and that would have been worth it alone

[shorthaltsjester]

"And you loved her once, too. You were inseparable. I remember the day the Featheringtons moved in across the square. From that day on, it was, “Penelope this,” and “Penelope that,” and “Penelope and I are going to read Don Quixote, and we are going to be knights.”"

Eloise Bridgerton & Penelope Featherington in Bridgerton // We're In Love by boygenius

[gomzdrawfr]

When you stay up late and gone past the threshold and your body refuses to sleep even though you’re extremely tired

[marshmelonlover]

One of my favourite parts of "Persuasion" is when Frederick says to Anne "You did not use to like cards; but time makes many changes." and then she responds "I am not yet so much changed." and then he says "It is a period, indeed! Eight years and a half is a period!" because this is such an important part of the book. It's when they both truly realise that neither of them is the same as they were 8 years ago. They're not 19 and 23 anymore, but 27 and 31. They both have scars and are more mature with a better understanding of the world and, more importantly, each other. And all part of each of them wants to do is go back to the beginning and rewrite the story from the start so they aren't separated and have to go through over eight years of emotional agony, but they can't, so they have to write a new ending. And they do.

[sacramentallyinsane]

idw taraprowl x nbc hannigram: cinematic parallels

[mindofserenity]

I don’t think there is anything more heartbreaking than watching freedom and peace being taken away in the most inhumane and barbaric way to those who, to the very least, deserve it. This feeling did not change in the years becoming aware of what is happening to Palestinians and my hope for humanity is slowly dissolving into bitterness. This is the cruelty of being empathetic watching terror unfold.

But what I find most comforting are the promises that keep me going:

وَلَا تَحْسَبَنَّ ٱللَّهَ غَـٰفِلًا عَمَّا يَعْمَلُ ٱلظَّـٰلِمُونَ ۚ إِنَّمَا يُؤَخِّرُهُمْ لِيَوْمٍۢ تَشْخَصُ فِيهِ ٱلْأَبْصَـٰرُ ٤٢

Do not think ˹O Prophet˺ that Allah is unaware of what the wrongdoers do. He only delays them until a Day when ˹their˺ eyes will stare in horror—

Qur’an 14:42

وَسَيَعْلَمُ الَّذِينَ ظَلَمُوا أَيَّ مُنقَلَبٍ يَنقَلِبُونَ

And the wrongdoers will soon know at what final place they will end up.

(Sūrat al-Shu‘arā, No 26, Āyat 227)

[ensigntilly]

culmets officially confirmed to be married in star trek discovery s5 i just collapsed onto the floor

[therentyoupay]

[ modern!AU | neighbors-to-lovers!AU | mountain living!AU ft. jelsa ] [ based on snow globe by @therentyoupay ] [ 1 2 3 4 ]

On July 1st, the lonely house at the top of the mountain was finally sold. — In which Jack(son) Overland tries his best to befriend his neighbor, one woodworking project at a time. Prompt: Three-word sentences: "Just say it," for @aicosu.

[adultemophase]

idk if it was because I literally got an hour and a half of sleep but the pacing of act 1 threw me off a bit. Don’t get me wrong I LOVED it and I’m so excited for the rest of the show but it felt like everything was going so fast. I imagine that it was just a lot of things needed to be set up for act 2-3. I’m rewatching tonight so I can enjoy it fully conscious so we’ll see if I change my mind on that.

[starbuck]

people talk about how we shouldn’t put “romantic love” on a pedestal and consider it more important than “platonic love” or “familial love,” but have we considered not sorting love into categories to begin with? Have we tried that?