Danniel.schulz

theyatemytaylor:

unsuccessfulmetalbenders:

the-sun-and-sea-and-you:

laughingsquid:

Angry Young Woman Uses Her ‘Telekinetic Powers’ in a NYC Cafe

holy damn

PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD ARE GETTING TOO DAMN CREATIVE AND I AM NOT OKAY WITH IT IF ANYBODY EVER TRIED TO PULL THIS SHIT WITH ME IT WOULD BE THE LAST THING THEY EVER DID I AM NOT HERE FOR THIS JEAN GREY NONSENSE

1. This is fucking amazing
2. but the best bit is the bitter and angry rant above coming from… “unsuccessfulmetalbenders”

this is the best prank i have ever seen. i would completely freak out.

daangmel:

swaganova:

toukos:

i’m having this played at my funeral

It took me like three seconds to reblog

UHM

But they like it.

“

I told Miyazaki I love the “gratuitous motion” in his films; instead of every movement being dictated by the story, sometimes people will just sit for a moment, or they will sigh, or look in a running stream, or do something extra, not to advance the story but only to give the sense of time and place and who they are.

"We have a word for that in Japanese," he said. "It’s called ma. Emptiness. It’s there intentionally.”

Is that like the “pillow words” that separate phrases in Japanese poetry?

"I don’t think it’s like the pillow word." He clapped his hands three or four times. "The time in between my clapping is ma. If you just have non-stop action with no breathing space at all, it’s just busyness. But if you take a moment, then the tension building in the film can grow into a wider dimension. If you just have constant tension at 80 degrees all the time you just get numb.

”

- Rogert Ebert, on Hayao Miyazaki (via fennecs)

peterfromtexas:

They’re not that innocent

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Name Calling



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HEY EUROPE! Come see me!

About 60% of the student tickets for BAHFest are now sold. Please book soon if you want a spot and are a broke student!

“Not all toxic people are cruel and uncaring. Some of them love us dearly. Many of them have good intentions. Most are toxic to our being simply because their needs and way of existing in the world force us to compromise ourselves and our happiness. They aren’t inherently bad people, but they aren’t the right people for us. And as hard as it is, we have to let them go. Life is hard enough without being around people who bring you down, and as much as you care, you can’t destroy yourself for the sake of someone else. You have to make your wellbeing a priority. Whether that means breaking up with someone you care about, loving a family member from a distance, letting go of a friend, or removing yourself from a situation that feels painful — you have every right to leave and create a safer space for yourself.”

- Daniell Koepke (via greatauthorquotes)

[ By WebUrbanist in Art & Street Art & Graffiti. ]

NeverWet has been making headlines as the silicon-based spray that repels liquids from clothes and electronics, but this off-book use shows another fascinating application that may be even longer-lasting: urban art invisible until poured upon.

As part of a Home Depot competition, Nathan Sharratt decided to create stencils and spray hydrophobic NeverWet onto streets and sidewalks, resulting in areas of deflected moisture surrounded by soaked concrete. Like invisible ink, the water-repellent areas remain hidden until another liquid is applied.

Given criticism of NeverWet when applied to shoes (apparently it can discolor or leave residue) and phones (touchscreen and durability issues have been reported), this may prove to be a more persistent, if unintended, long-term application of the product.

And for any interested subversive artists, it could prove a unusual boon when bothered by police: how will the authorities justify arresting someone for spraying an invisible coating on a public surface? Meanwhile, best of luck to Nathan in the contest – a win here is surely deserved! As one reader (3AlarmLampscooter) from Reddit noted: there are practical and legal street applications of this too, potentially: “Instead of a sign saying slippery when wet… graffiti saying slippery.” That, and consider: sidewalk happy-hour signs for drink specials in the rain, or way-finding messages for seeking shelter in a storm. Many interesting possibilities.

Short-form instructions for those looking to (officially: don’t!) try this at home or in the neighborhood: “Step 1: You need a stencil. You can do something simple or use an image that includes a fair amount of detail. I created my own stencils from cardboard, but there’s no reason you can’t use a ready-made or store-bought stencil. Just know that NeverWet will get sprayed on that, too. Step 2: Place stencil on concrete. I recommend that you only try this on light-colored concrete for best results. Step 3: Spray the NeverWet into the cut-out areas of your stencil according to the manufacturer’s instructions found on the label. I did two base coats and two top coats.”

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[ By WebUrbanist in Art & Street Art & Graffiti. ]

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lionversusbear:

How The Face Changes With Shifting A Light Source

important

Before you get mad, I'm a vegetarian. Just like Einstein. Also Hitler.

I remember being endlessly entertained by the adventures of my toys. Some days they died repeated, violent deaths, other days they traveled to space or discussed my swim lessons and how I absolutely should be allowed in the deep end of the pool, especially since I was such a talented doggy-paddler.


I didn't understand why it was fun for me, it just was.


But as I grew older, it became harder and harder to access that expansive imaginary space that made my toys fun. I remember looking at them and feeling sort of frustrated and confused that things weren't the same.


I played out all the same story lines that had been fun before, but the meaning had disappeared. Horse's Big Space Adventure transformed into holding a plastic horse in the air, hoping it would somehow be enjoyable for me. Prehistoric Crazy-Bus Death Ride was just smashing a toy bus full of dinosaurs into the wall while feeling sort of bored and unfulfilled.  I could no longer connect to my toys in a way that allowed me to participate in the experience.


Depression feels almost exactly like that, except about everything.

At first, though, the invulnerability that accompanied the detachment was exhilarating. At least as exhilarating as something can be without involving real emotions.


The beginning of my depression had been nothing but feelings, so the emotional deadening that followed was a welcome relief.  I had always wanted to not give a fuck about anything. I viewed feelings as a weakness — annoying obstacles on my quest for total power over myself. And I finally didn't have to feel them anymore.

But my experiences slowly flattened and blended together until it became obvious that there's a huge difference between not giving a fuck and not being able to give a fuck. Cognitively, you might know that different things are happening to you, but they don't feel very different.


Which leads to horrible, soul-decaying boredom.

I tried to get out more, but most fun activities just left me existentially confused or frustrated with my inability to enjoy them.


Months oozed by, and I gradually came to accept that maybe enjoyment was not a thing I got to feel anymore. I didn't want anyone to know, though. I was still sort of uncomfortable about how bored and detached I felt around other people, and I was still holding out hope that the whole thing would spontaneously work itself out. As long as I could manage to not alienate anyone, everything might be okay!

However, I could no longer rely on genuine emotion to generate facial expressions, and when you have to spend every social interaction consciously manipulating your face into shapes that are only approximately the right ones, alienating people is inevitable.


Everyone noticed.


It's weird for people who still have feelings to be around depressed people. They try to help you have feelings again so things can go back to normal, and it's frustrating for them when that doesn't happen. From their perspective, it seems like there has got to be some untapped source of happiness within you that you've simply lost track of, and if you could just see how beautiful things are...


At first, I'd try to explain that it's not really negativity or sadness anymore, it's more just this detached, meaningless fog where you can't feel anything about anything — even the things you love, even fun things — and you're horribly bored and lonely, but since you've lost your ability to connect with any of the things that would normally make you feel less bored and lonely, you're stuck in the boring, lonely, meaningless void without anything to distract you from how boring, lonely, and meaningless it is.


But people want to help. So they try harder to make you feel hopeful and positive about the situation. You explain it again, hoping they'll try a less hope-centric approach, but re-explaining your total inability to experience joy inevitably sounds kind of negative; like maybe you WANT to be depressed. The positivity starts coming out in a spray — a giant, desperate happiness sprinkler pointed directly at your face. And it keeps going like that until you're having this weird argument where you're trying to convince the person that you are far too hopeless for hope just so they'll give up on their optimism crusade and let you go back to feeling bored and lonely by yourself.


And that's the most frustrating thing about depression. It isn't always something you can fight back against with hope. It isn't even something — it's nothing. And you can't combat nothing. You can't fill it up. You can't cover it. It's just there, pulling the meaning out of everything. That being the case, all the hopeful, proactive solutions start to sound completely insane in contrast to the scope of the problem.

It would be like having a bunch of dead fish, but no one around you will acknowledge that the fish are dead. Instead, they offer to help you look for the fish or try to help you figure out why they disappeared.


The problem might not even have a solution. But you aren't necessarily looking for solutions. You're maybe just looking for someone to say "sorry about how dead your fish are" or "wow, those are super dead. I still like you, though."


I started spending more time alone.


Perhaps it was because I lacked the emotional depth necessary to panic, or maybe my predicament didn't feel dramatic enough to make me suspicious, but I somehow managed to convince myself that everything was still under my control right up until I noticed myself wishing that nothing loved me so I wouldn't feel obligated to keep existing.


It's a strange moment when you realize that you don't want to be alive anymore. If I had feelings, I'm sure I would have felt surprised. I have spent the vast majority of my life actively attempting to survive. Ever since my most distant single-celled ancestor squiggled into existence, there has been an unbroken chain of things that wanted to stick around.


Yet there I was, casually wishing that I could stop existing in the same way you'd want to leave an empty room or mute an unbearably repetitive noise.


That wasn't the worst part, though. The worst part was deciding to keep going.


When I say that deciding to not kill myself was the worst part, I should clarify that I don't mean it in a retrospective sense. From where I am now, it seems like a solid enough decision. But at the time, it felt like I had been dragging myself through the most miserable, endless wasteland, and — far in the distance — I had seen the promising glimmer of a slightly less miserable wasteland. And for just a moment, I thought maybe I'd be able to stop and rest. But as soon as I arrived at the border of the less miserable wasteland, I found out that I'd have to turn around and walk back the other way.


Soon afterward, I discovered that there's no tactful or comfortable way to inform other people that you might be suicidal. And there's definitely no way to ask for help casually.


I didn't want it to be a big deal. However, it's an alarming subject. Trying to be nonchalant about it just makes it weird for everyone.


I was also extremely ill-prepared for the position of comforting people. The things that seemed reassuring at the time weren't necessarily comforting for others.

I had so very few feelings, and everyone else had so many, and it felt like they were having all of them in front of me at once. I didn't really know what to do, so I agreed to see a doctor so that everyone would stop having all of their feelings at me.


The next few weeks were a haze of talking to relentlessly hopeful people about my feelings that didn't exist so I could be prescribed medication that might help me have them again.


And every direction was bullshit for a really long time, especially up. The absurdity of working so hard to continue doing something you don't like can be overwhelming. And the longer it takes to feel different, the more it starts to seem like everything might actually be hopeless bullshit.


My feelings did start to return eventually. But not all of them came back, and they didn't arrive symmetrically.

I had not been able to care for a very long time, and when I finally started being able to care about things again, I HATED them. But hatred is technically a feeling, and my brain latched onto it like a child learning a new word.


Hating everything made all the positivity and hope feel even more unpalatable. The syrupy, over-simplified optimism started to feel almost offensive.


Thankfully, I rediscovered crying just before I got sick of hating things.  I call this emotion "crying" and not "sadness" because that's all it really was. Just crying for the sake of crying. My brain had partially learned how to be sad again, but it took the feeling out for a joy ride before it had learned how to use the brakes or steer.


At some point during this phase, I was crying on the kitchen floor for no reason. As was common practice during bouts of floor-crying, I was staring straight ahead at nothing in particular and feeling sort of weird about myself. Then, through the film of tears and nothingness, I spotted a tiny, shriveled piece of corn under the refrigerator.


I don't claim to know why this happened, but when I saw the piece of corn, something snapped. And then that thing twisted through a few permutations of logic that I don't understand, and produced the most confusing bout of uncontrollable, debilitating laughter that I have ever experienced.


I had absolutely no idea what was going on.


My brain had apparently been storing every unfelt scrap of happiness from the last nineteen months, and it had impulsively decided to unleash all of it at once in what would appear to be an act of vengeance.


That piece of corn is the funniest thing I have ever seen, and I cannot explain to anyone why it's funny. I don't even know why. If someone ever asks me "what was the exact moment where things started to feel slightly less shitty?" instead of telling a nice, heartwarming story about the support of the people who loved and believed in me, I'm going to have to tell them about the piece of corn. And then I'm going to have to try to explain that no, really, it was funny. Because, see, the way the corn was sitting on the floor... it was so alone... and it was just sitting there! And no matter how I explain it, I'll get the same, confused look. So maybe I'll try to show them the piece of corn - to see if they get it. They won't. Things will get even weirder.


Anyway, I wanted to end this on a hopeful, positive note, but, seeing as how my sense of hope and positivity is still shrouded in a thick layer of feeling like hope and positivity are bullshit, I'll just say this: Nobody can guarantee that it's going to be okay, but — and I don't know if this will be comforting to anyone else — the possibility exists that there's a piece of corn on a floor somewhere that will make you just as confused about why you are laughing as you have ever been about why you are depressed. And even if everything still seems like hopeless bullshit, maybe it's just pointless bullshit or weird bullshit or possibly not even bullshit.

lagubeko:

Parker Fitzgerald, for Kinfolk.

karenfelloutofbedagain:

catsymaxxie:

"John William Keedy explores themes of anxiety and varied neuroses in his photography."

I’ve never seen anxiety so accurately translated into art before…

beeishappy:

_{TCR | 2013.08.01 Grab-Ask 5800: Stephen devises a system to help navigate the sexual rules of a modern workplace.}

rightsided:

knightingail:

cumbercrieff:

In Australia we have this show where the set is tilted at an angle and it’s funny because people walk like this

and fall down a lot

EDIT : The show is called Slideshow and you can watch it here

OH MY GOD I WATCHED THE LINKED VIDEO AND NEARLY PEED MYSELF THIS IS HILARIOUS

GODDAMNIT DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS HERE?!

I cannot be laughing this much this late.

My website turned 4 years old so we're having a big sale to celebrate.

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SDCC GEEKS! I'll be at booth 2300!

Awesome cave bio-luminescence 

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Last day for the new project! Thanks, geeks!

brandnewfashion:

kingdomkeeperstrivia:

Because I feel bad if I don’t reblog…

animeaves:

hokarotsukino:

mscaptains:

STROKE: Remember The 1st Three Letters… S.T..R …
My friend sent this to me and encouraged me to post it and spread the word. I agree. If everyone can remember something this simple, we could save some folks.

STROKE IDENTIFICATION:
During a party, a friend stumbled and took a little fall - she assured everyone that she was fine and just tripped over a brick because of her new shoes. (they offered to call ambulance)

They got her cleaned up and got her a new plate of food - while she appeared a bit shaken up, Ingrid went about enjoying herself the rest of the evening. Ingrid’s husband called later telling everyone that his wife had been taken to the hospital - (at 6:00pm , Ingrid passed away.)
She had suffered a stroke at the party . Had they known how to identify the signs of a stroke, perhaps Ingrid would be with us today.

Some don’t die. They end up in a helpless, hopeless condition instead. It only takes a minute to read this…

STROKE IDENTIFICATION:

A neurologist says that if he can get to a stroke victim within 3 hours he can totally reverse the effects of a stroke…totally. He said the trick was getting a stroke recognized, diagnosed, and then getting the patient medically cared for within 3 hours, which is tough.

RECOGNIZING A STROKE

Remember the ‘3’ steps, STR . Read and Learn!
Sometimes symptoms of a stroke are difficult to identify. Unfortunately, the lack of awareness spells disaster.
The stroke victim may suffer severe brain damage when people nearby fail to recognize the symptoms of a stroke.
Now doctors say a bystander can recognize a stroke by asking three simple questions :

S * Ask the individual to SMILE ..
T * = TALK. Ask the person to SPEAK A SIMPLE SENTENCE (Coherently) (eg ‘It is sunny out today’).
R * Ask him or her to RAISE BOTH ARMS .

If he or she has trouble with ANY ONE of these tasks, call the ambulance and describe the symptoms to the dispatcher.

NOTE : Another ‘sign’ of a stroke is
1. Ask the person to ‘stick’ out their tongue.
2. If the tongue is ‘crooked’, if it goes to one side or the other that is also an indication of a stroke.

A prominent cardiologist says if everyone who gets this e-mail sends it to 10 people; you can bet that at least one life will be saved.

And it could be your own.

First reblog post that actually saves a life.

This is a life-saving post.

the more you know

yeah don’t think that this can’t happen to you or someone you know if they’re young. my cousin’s wife is 33 and she had a stroke last year

I’ve had a stroke. It happens to people, and the more you know about this kind of stuff, the better.Because it could be important to know.

LIVE SAVING. WOOOAHH. REBLOG REBLOG REBLOG REBLOG REBLOG 

Had a family member almost die of one, so signal boosting because you never know when you could save a life.

A few years ago, my next door neighbor was home alone and called his wife to complain about not feeling well.  A couple hours later, he collapsed, and was rushed to the hospital.  Turns out, he was having a stroke, and is now paralyzed from the neck down.  If you don’t feel well, please do not delay medical attention.  Just go to the hospital, and if it turns out that nothing is actually wrong with you, it’s still better to be safe than sorry.

my best friend in high school died from a stroke. she was on the phone with best girl friend, when she collapsed in the living room. her last words were, “i have a headache." she died an hour later. it’s serious, real thing. she was 16.

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Her head exploded.

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A comic about a glorious undersea creature.

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New Comic: The Emerald Dream, Part One