can someone please be proud of me like fuck I’m trying
reblog to let prev know you’re proud of them
poetry and musical theater get similar accusations leveled at them in terms of not being realistic, i.e. “no one fucking talks like that” or “people don’t randomly burst into song in real life” and sometimes i just want to take people by the shoulders and say. there are forms of art that are not aiming for perfect realism. are you capable of handling that
also i fully do burst into song in real life on the regular. jukebox musicals are the most realistic thing.
Reading a book with even vaguely old timey dialogue fucks up my language abilities so bad for days.
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I just responded to an informal email with “unlike the rest my present difficulties, this one was entirely my fault, but at least it’s easily remedied.”
Forcing myself to edit this next email to sound like a 21st century human wrote it instead of sending “please pardon the delay in communication; I was still lacking in suitable images on Sunday. Happily, this last week’s endeavors have yielded better stockphotos of sexy lawyers”
“Dad may yet effect repairs with sufficient application of wood glue and clamps—it’s simply beyond my capabilities”—unsent text to my mom about a broken piece of furniture
but talking like that is so much more fun
i shan’t say it
This fanfic definitely exists somewhere
@bulkyphrase over on Discord said this was perfect for Alpha Tony buying pre-serum Omega Steve and finding out he’s actually an Alpha, too. I concur.
HA! I know I've read this story.
I just want to say something about fic writers. For every writer out there, there is at least one reader whose day you’ve made better, just by posting that thing you were nervous about putting out into the world. One reader who you’ve made smile or cry or laugh or hold their phone close to their face and think “wow wow wow wow wow wow thank you I am so blessed I really needed this today”. There are a lot of days when I can barely read anything, for one reason or another, but then I get a day like today, where I stumble across some fic, and everything just seems okay for a while as I read it. Thank you, to all fic writers, for that feeling. That feeling of “it’s okay” or “hey, I am feeling like shit but you know what, my favourite character is okay today”. You make that happen. Whatever kind of writer you are, however little or well known you are. You make all those horrible, sometimes damn lonely days a little more bearable and worth while and from the bottom of my heart, I just really wanted to say thank you so much.
Much love, a reader xxx
Family owned Italian firm invents solar panels that mimic terracotta tiles to restore heritage buildings
In a small workshop near Vicenza, Italy, artisans make traditional-looking roofing tiles with a hidden difference: Each module contains solar photovoltaic cells.
The Invisible Solar Rooftile is made by an unique indivisible piece, with a very high resistance, that hides and protects the photovoltaic cells that are incorporated inside
The family-owned company that makes the tiles, Dyaqua, started developing its “Invisible Solar” products more than a decade ago. Solar panels “were spreading much faster than before, and our first thought was about heritage cities like Vicenza,” says company spokesperson Elisa Quagliato. The city, a World Heritage Site, is covered in a sea of red terra-cotta roofs.
The tiles have been installed at Pompeii (where the director of the archaeological park says they look “exactly like the terra-cotta tiles used by the Romans”) and in the small Italian town of Vicoforte. A larger installation will soon begin in Evora, Portugal, as part of an EU-funded project that aims to help historic cities “become greener, smarter, and more livable while respecting their cultural heritage.”
The same approach can be used to hide solar in other materials that look like stone, concrete, or wood, and incorporated into walls or patios, not just roofs. And it’s a way to potentially add solar where it wouldn’t otherwise be used.
Sources
https://www.fastcompany.com/90836947/these-terracotta-tiles-blend-in-perfectly-with-italian-roofs-but-theyre-really-solar-panels
Today I found out one of my desk neighbors is Jewish, but hasn't been observant since his bubbe died.
He mentioned that he hasn't had matzo ball soup in years.
So I only have one choice.
There only was one choice.
And now to let it simmer for three thousand years
This is why you simmer for millennia. That golden color. The depth of flavor and rich mouth feel.
I have two Extremely Jewish posts doing the rounds right now: this one, and my chanukah season desk decorations. They jointly give a pretty accurate picture of who I am as a person.
I will spend time and money to decorate my desk out of distilled spite.
I will spend time and money to prepare food, especially for semi-orphaned fellow Jews.
But these are both Jewish values.
What? My soup post would make Twitter discourse??
there was someone on twitter who made chili for their college aged neighbors who had a ton of pizza boxes outside so that they could have an actual meal and there were, like, insane 30-tweet threads about boundaries and consent and food allergies and people getting mad about things just for the sake of getting mad about things.
I just felt the concentrated disdain of 1000 generations of my family, every one of them distilling love and care into nourishment for their families and communities, wash over me like a tidal wave. I swear a blood feud on those Twitter twerps. I will drown them in chicken broth.
Just Sam and Bucky, trying to figure out what is the best snack.
“Bucky, the words ‘potato’ and ‘candy’ should not be allowed in the same food name.”
Bucky pouts, and it’s cute enough that Sam’s almost willing to try the monstrosity Bucky had presented to him on one of Sam’s mama’s good old timey plates. “I swear you can’t taste the potato, Sam. It just holds everything together.”
Sam wrinkles his nose. “We live literally a five minute walk away from a gas station, Bucky. Every classic American processed snack available within minutes for reasonable southern gas station prices.”
Bucky pushes the plate of towards him again. “Or we could eat a delicious and simple snack made entirely out of ingredients we already had on hand: potatoes, peanut butter, and powdered sugar.”
“There is no way we had enough powdered sugar on hand for that.”
Bucky lets out a little huff, and Sam tries to pretend it’s not endearing. “Okay, so maybe I had to run to Rouses for more powdered sugar, but the point still stands we did have at least some of each type of ingredient on hand. And more importantly, this doesn’t taste like lightly flavored sawdust.”
Sam raises his eyebrows. “I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just slander flamin’ hot cheetos like that when they’re an American staple, but fine. No processed snacks takes out a lot of the gas station fare, but you still coulda bought stuff to make cookies or brownies or even cupcakes when you were over at Rouses anyway.”
Bucky gives him a look. “And then I would’ve burnt down our lovely house that we finally finished renovating trying to make them. All I had to do for this was boil some water for the potato. No baking and inevitable burning required.”
Sam shrugs before reluctantly nodding. “Can’t argue that point.”
Bucky just laughs and offers him the plate again. “Just try it once. Please?” He bats his eyes and sticks out his bottom lip exaggeratedly, and Sam folds pretty much immediately. He’s a sucker for Bucky’s puppy dog eyes.
He heaves out a put upon sigh before taking a little potato-and-peanut-butter pinwheel, and ignores the way his stomach flutters when Bucky beams at him. “Fine, but we’re getting like three different bags of Takis for our next movie night in.”
Bucky just nods before continuing to watch in anticipation, and Sam bites the bullet and takes a reasonably sized bite out of Bucky’s literal depression candy.
Goddamn it.
Sam finishes off the piece he’s holding before grabbing another. “We’re still not making water pie,” he says in between bites. “I refuse.”
Bucky just beams.
I know I make you cry
And I know sometimes you wanna die
But do you really feel alive without me?
If so, be free
If not, leave him for me
Before one of us has
Accidental babies
For we are in love
Accidental Babies - Damien Rice
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use, and i cannot stress this enough, thriftbooks
if thriftbooks doesn’t have what you’re looking for, especially if you’re looking for it used/cheap, alternatives include betterworldbooks and discoverbooks.
Other tips for cheaper books is checking amazon and scrolling down to the “buy used” or “other sellers” section and then checking to see if those sellers have storerfonts off of amazon.
There is also a good chance that you might have a local, indie book store that likely also has a used book section! Indiebound might help you find those book stores!
Also, check out your local library, sometimes, they have a for sale section or might have certain times of the year where they do massive used book (dvd, cd, etc) sales to fundraise!
(It’s also worth checking directly from an author’s or publisher’s page and seeing if they have other places they sell their books. I know this is about cheaper/used books, since some of y’all aren’t built for piracy or the library, but also if you want to dodge supporting amazon AND want to more directly support artists you support, there’s a good chance they might have alternate ways to buy the books!)
I use thriftbooks a lot, it's so good!
Bookshop.org allows you to purchase from a locally owned bookshop in your area, the order gets routed to them and the local shop will do the ordering and shipping to you.