syzygy

this isn’t supposed to be an oreo day, but….

(Source: pornography-fitspiration, via dont-be-chai)

seokim:

reflections

me. you. everyone I know.

(via herrashmoo)

penjolina:

piddlebucket:

randomstabbing:

hilariousslut:

aliveforalittlewhile:

warcrimenancydrew:

historywhore:

warcrimenancydrew:

do you guys remember that one post about how men feel entitled to take up so much space and women have to deal with a lot less?

This is actually a documented thing. You always see men on the subway or tube or whatever using both armrests while women sit with their arms hunched together into their laps. That’s why I always make a point to take up at least one if not both armrests of the tube so men can be uncomfortable for once.

^ again, for all the people telling me posting this picture is complaining too much.

In my college classes (and high school too) guys were always stretching, sticking fists and elbows in my face, leaning their heads back over my desk, over my work, spreading their legs out, kicking my bag with their dirty shoes. And let’s not pretend they were in other guys’ space as much as they were in women’s.

It’s so true, this happens to me every day on the train. Same with the walking thing, women will weave out of the way whereas men just walk straight and plow down anything in their path. I always end up playing chicken with men on the sidewalk now, because I refuse to move out of their way.

I love playing chicken with dudes who hog the sidewalk. BODY CHECK! Fucking assholes.

“NOT ALL MEN ARE LIKE THIS!” FUCK OFF.

“AS A MAN, I THINK THAT…” FUCK OFF.

Men always have the same defensive bullshit to spout every time they get called out on their shit. AND IT IS BORING. They remind me of those toys where you pull a string an they have like 5 phrases they can say. Over and over and over.

same here with playing chicken, its hilarious sometimes because they get this flash of realization in their eyes that says ‘holy shit, she’s NOT going to move/??? what do????’ because THEY ARE SO USED TO EVERYONE MOVING FOR THEM

when i was younger my grandpa drew this on a piece of paper,

and he asked me how i, as the red circle, would get around the two people (black circles) if i was walking down the street.

so of course i came back with

moving out of the way for them as i walked.

he asked me if i thought men would do the same and, at the time, i did because i thought it was just common courtesy. but he told me that men would barrel straight through without giving a shit and that i should do the exact same. because i was the one walking and they were the ones in the way. so that’s exactly what i do.

(via madammistress)

allthingslinguistic:

Cyberlinguistics: Recording the world’s vanishing voices

Of the 7,000 languages spoken on the planet, Tembé is at the small end with just 150 speakers left. In a few days, I will head into the Brazilian Amazon to record Tembé – via specially-designed technology – for posterity. Welcome to the world of cyberlinguistics.

Our new Android app Aikuma is still in the prototype stage. But it will dramatically speed up the process of collecting and preserving oral literature from endangered languages, if last year’s field trip to Papua New Guinea is anything to go by.

Going off-grid in Papua New Guinea

In the steep hill country of the New Guinea Highlands, we journeyed to meet a man called Waks, who ran a small family farm and – in his spare time – taught other adults how to read and write his ancestral language. He is among the last generation of Usarufa speakers, who number only about 1,000. […]

In the afternoon, eight Usarufa men and women stayed back with us in the literacy classroom. All had volunteered to give us three days of their time to work on their language. We gave a short demonstration of our Aikuma mobile app and handed out the phones.

They went off on in ones and twos to find shady places outside. They recorded stories, songs, legends, personal narratives and dialogues. As they spoke into the phone their voices were transmitted to the storage attached to the Wi-Fi router.

When the group reassembled we showed them the refresh button, and all the stored recordings appeared on each of the devices. They sat on the floor and listened, replaying favourites and marking them using the “like” button. […]

On another occasion, I played recordings of languages from other places – languages that have now fallen silent – and the penny dropped for the Usarufa speakers. As one elder said: “We must record our stories now so that they can be preserved for our children, since they are not learning our language!”

The penny dropped for me at that same moment. I suddenly realised we now had our elusive informed consent! For months I had been wrestling with the problem of how to obtain permission to store someone’s recordings in a digital archive on the internet when they have not even experienced a computer. What did they really understand they were agreeing to when signing a permission form?

But there was no need to have that esoteric discussion. Everyone already understood that speaking into this device was tantamount to public speaking, only directed at an audience of people inhabiting other times and places.

They hoped the audience would include their descendents, who might one day want to study their cultural heritage and possibly even breathe new life into the Usarufa language.

(via madammistress)