Heartbroken, Wandering, Wordless, Lost, And Ecstatic For No Reason.

Floral triceratops by Vallavica

Draw nigh, come through the press to grips with me, so shall ye learn what might wells up in breasts of Amazons. With my blood is mingled war!

Queen Penthesilea, in Quintus Smyrnaeus’ The Fall of Troy

Quoted in Wonder Woman: Warbringer

I’ve gotten in trouble at almost every Thanksgiving family gathering starting from the time I reached about thirteen because I kept calling out my uncles for being racist, homophobic, or sexist. 

(And then everyone got mad at me for starting arguments. Um??? I??? Never?? started it?? I just refused to let it go when they said horrible things.) 

One time I flat-out told one of my uncles he was a bigot and he got super super offended. Insisted that he was not a bigot, and that I must never call him that again. I was fourteen at the time and I was cowed enough to apologize for saying that and to agree to not do it again. Still regret how I folded, sometimes, but at least I made it clear I still believed he was wrong.

Several times it’s been me debating against four or five of my uncles at once. Four adult men, one teenage girl. Everyone else always refuses to get involved, standing around with these uncomfortable looks on their faces. One of my aunts thinks it’s disgraceful, how much I’ll argue with ‘the men of the family’. It doesn’t feel like I ever accomplish much of anything by doing this, but I can’t just do nothing.

It’s hard because I’m close to my extended family, particularly some of my cousins who are my age, and I know that they all love me. But I cannot stand the things that they (my uncles and a couple of my aunts especially) believe. My mom agrees with me that they’re wrong, but always gets angry with me when I argue with them about it. ‘You don’t talk about politics with family,’ she says. ‘Family’s what will be there for you when everyone else leaves you, don’t alienate them.’ ‘Let it go, you’re never going to change their minds.’ ‘You’re embarrassing me.’ I’m always the one in the wrong for daring to speak up. 

I don’t think my mom really understands that I cannot be silent about these things. If I am silent, I am complicit. If I say nothing, then it’s as good as agreeing. I can’t do that. I just can’t, even if she thinks I’m starting drama without good reason and punishes me for it.

Sometimes I think that I should cut contact with my extended family entirely, for some of the horrible things they believe - if any of them openly advocated for violence, I would. But they don’t go that far, and I love them too much to erase them from my life right now. (Also, my mom thinks I’m insane for even contemplating that maybe I should. Cut contact, that is. Because in our family, where our parents and grandparents were refugees and immigrants when they arrived here and had only each other to rely on, family is everything. To her, family matters more than politics, every time. I don’t quite agree with her on that.) But if I am to continue keeping them in my life, the very least I can do is to speak up when I know something is wrong, and to refuse to be silent, no matter how many people get angry with me for it. 

I’m always glad to see people saying that yes, it’s right to call your family out when they do something racist/homophobic etc., because everyone in my immediate life says that I’m childish and immature for doing it, and that there’s no point in doing it. I hope though that maybe some of the things I say will get through to my uncles’ children, at least, if not my uncles themselves.

What is going on with the world??

USA TODAY

Scientists created the world's whitest paint. It could eliminate the need for air conditioning.

The world's whitest paint has been created in a lab at Purdue, a paint so white that it could eventually reduce the need for air conditionin

Wake up kids, new extreme paint dropped

From death, life.

They stand before her, and they brandish their weapons callously, carelessly. She knows they mean to kill her – she’s of no use to them. “Don’t run and we’ll make it quick, little girl,” one of them says. “You can join your family.” She knows that he is lying. The world is open before her, and she knows all that may be known.

She can see the silence behind them, the darkness. Death. The void awaits.

The men smirk. They are empty of life and humanity, worn to blood, bone, and sharpened teeth by violence. They expect her to beg. They do not know.

She stands before them, small. Her spine is straight, and her head is high. She meets his eyes.

“No,” she says, and her voice is strong and clear. It is still a girl-child’s voice, but there is something more behind it.

He is taken aback, but something nasty quickly enters his eyes. “More fun for us then,” he tells the others.

“No,” she says again.

“I am not afraid to die.” She tells them, and there is a universe under her skin. She feels her life like a star in her chest, and death like tides in her blood.

They roar with laughter and start forward. They step with heavy feet on soil rich with death. They do not know.

The darkness is behind them, within them, between every atom in the air and in the earth. It is within her. The silence.

“I am not afraid to die,” she repeats, “but today is not my day to die. It is yours.”

The raucous laughter enters the air again, but she can see something like fear rising in the eyes of the wiser ones.

The time for words is over. The silence is here.

She closes her eyes - and breathes. Life is here, she thinks. Death is here, she thinks. Truth rings strong in the silence.

The darkness rises in her like the tides. The empty space between the stars is here, between the pieces of the universe. Void calls to void. The hungry dark will devour all. The shadows grow, and –

She opens her eyes, but there is nothing to see. The dark presses like a living thing against her skin, but she is not afraid. She is part of it, and it a part of her. There is no sound, because the dark and silence swallow all. But she can feel them. She can sense their light growing dim. Their fear grows, as the darkness within answers to the call of the darkness without.

She holds both death and life, light and dark, silence and sound, void and star – in her hands and in her heart. Her light does not fade as the darkness grows. There is no fear in her. She has already passed through the void and emerged.

The lights in the darkness are gone. The sense of nothing presses against her skin. She waits. She knows it is not yet done.

She waits, and the dark waits also, hungry. It is restless and chaotic, and it would consume her given the chance. She remembers the star in her chest. And waits.

And in the consuming darkness, the void of chaos and nothingness, something starts to grow. She smiles in the blackness, and breathes in, bringing air into her lungs where there was none. The light in her chest flares. Her star fills her whole self. The shadows recede. She blinks in the sunlight. There are no men in front of her. There are no more bodies in the streets. There is only rich black soil.

She steps forward and kneels, brushing the dirt away from a bright green seedling. Life.

tsatsiki is the best I make a big batch of it like every other week

i am high on tzatziki

when I was a kid and I heard the ‘which came first, the chicken or the egg?’ question for the first time, I didn’t understand the big deal. the answer is obvious??

Omg I recognized this right away and then sat here thinking, but no, it can’t be, how likely is it that I would encounter a random picture from this particular museum? But it IS.

I used to work there! There’s an upper floor to the right of the whale skeleton and I would walk by it on my way to one of the labs in the morning!

The setting is: Below the Whale Skeleton