93
18 Apr 14 at 11 pm

Philosophy  Professor in A Waking Life (via patchworkpajamas)

(Source: anafterthought, via anamaranth)


"The reason why I refuse to take existentialism as just another French fashion or historical curiosity, is that I think it has something very important to offer us for the new century. I’m afraid we’re losing the real virtues of living life passionately in the sense of taking responsibility for who you are, the ability to make something of yourself and feel good about life. Existentialism is often discussed as if it’s, a philosophy of despair, but I think the truth is just the opposite. Sartre, once interviewed, said he never really felt a day of despair in his life. One thing that comes out from reading these guys is not a sense of anguish about life so much as, a real kind of exuberance, of feeling on top of it, it’s like your life is yours to create. I’ve read the post modernists with some interest, even admiration, but when I read them I always have this awful nagging feeling that something absolutely essential is getting left out. The more you talk about a person as a social construction or as a confluence of forces or as fragmented of marginalised, what you do is you open up a whole new world of excuses. And when Sartre talks about responsibility, he’s not talking about something abstract. He’s not talking about the kind of self or soul that theologians would argue about. It’s something very concrete, it’s you and me talking, making decisions, doing things, and taking the consequences. It might be true that there are six billion people in this world, and counting, but nevertheless -what you do makes a difference. It makes a difference, first of all, in material terms, it makes a difference to other people, and it sets an example. In short, I think the message here is that we should never simply write ourselves off or see each other as a victim of various forces. It’s always our decision who we are."

asker thanks for posting new content

can’t let down my audience

 1
18 Apr 14 at 4 pm
tags: biology  me  writing 

So there are these sequences in your genome called transposable elements that seem to be parasitic. How can genes be parasitic? And oh my goodness, indeed.

One of the most studied transposable elements, long interspersed nuclear element (LINE), codes for 2 proteins: the first to make a free floating copy of its DNA, and the second to insert that segment of DNA randomly into your genome! 

These portions of DNA are passed on from parent to child, and they can mess things up by being inserted into the middle of an important gene. Some of your DNA is all like “I’m going to take over you and all your children…bahahaha”

Some consolation: it appears that in fruitflies, some sites of transposable element integration seem to be more common than others, suggesting some sort of selection, which is likely beneficial to the fruitfly. So don’t despair, just be weirded out about more proof that genes are ridiculous, power-hungry overlords.

 2
18 Apr 14 at 11 am
tags: me  please 

I got a letter in the mail from the federal government, asking me to ensure that all the information they had about me was correct and to give my signature, stating that I’m a Canadian citizen (even though they know that)…to register to vote in the upcoming election.

I think that’s a little ridiculous. If they already know all this information, why make me register to vote? It must prevent some people from voting.

After having told this to my mother, she told me that I’m turning into my father. I think that’s alright.

 233270
16 Apr 14 at 11 pm

whimmy-bam:

themaraudingdetective:

grapefruitshampoo:

THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING AND BRILLIANT THING EVER

This is what happens when women write ad campaigns for other women *dies from the hotness*

image

The app is an odd idea, but the ad is cute. 

Also PREVENTATIVE medicine is sexy! booyah

(Source: youtube.com, via thisboythatgirl)


 22188
16 Apr 14 at 11 pm

jennyabigail:

erikakakagrace:

quads-for-the-gods:

tylerchavers:

“I want you to bite my lip until I can no longer speak. And then suck my ex girlfriend’s name out of my mouth just to make sure she never comes up in our conversations. I’m going to be honest, I’m not really a love poet. In fact, every time I try to write about love my hands cramp… just to show me how painful love can be. And sometimes my pencils break, just to prove to me that every now and then love takes a little more work than you planned.

See I heard that love is blind so, I write all my poems in brail. And my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless. I always believed that real love is kind of like a super model before she’s air brushed; it’s pure and imperfect, just the way that God intended. See I’m going to be honest, I’m not a love poet. But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love I swear that my first poem… it would be about you.

About how I loved you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike: Scared… but reckless with no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you. You see, I’m not really a love poet. But if I was I’d write about how I see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window, you see I’ve written like a million poems hoping that somehow maybe someway you’ll jump out of the page and be closer to me because if you were here, right now, I would massage your back until your skin sings songs that your lips don’t even know the words to.

Until your heartbeat sounds like my last name and you smile like the pacific ocean, I want to drink the sunlight in your skin. If I was a love poet, I’d write about how you have the audacity to be beautiful, even on days when everything around you is ugly you see I’d write about your eyelashes and how they are like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink.

If I was a love poet I’d write about how I melt in front of you like an ice sculpture, every time I hear the vibration in your voice so whenever I see your name on the caller ID my heart, it plays hop scotch inside of my chest. Yo it climbs on to my ribs like monkey bars and I feel like a child all over again. I know this sounds strange but every now and then I pray that God somehow turns you back in to one of my ribs just so that I would never have to spend an entire day without you.

I swear, I’m not a love poet. But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love, my first poem it would be about you. And after all of that she was like, so how do you feel about me? And I said, put it like this: I want to be your ex boyfriend’s stunt man. I want to do everything that he never had the courage to do like… trust you.

I swear that when our lips touch I can taste the next sixty years of my life. And some days I want to swallow stacks of your pictures just so you can be a part of me for a little bit longer. If I could I would sample your smile and then I would let my heart beat, do the bass line, we would create the greatest love song of all time. Whenever, we stand next to each other, love I was the only one made for you and you can be at last my Etta James. I’ll be oh child when you’re in pain or you could be candy coated drops of rain even though it never rains in Southern California. And together, we could be music.

And when my friends ask if you’re my girlfriend, I’ll say no. She is my musician. And me… I’m her favorite song.”

Take 4 mins out of your time and listen. Truly Beautiful.

Forever reblog

I love this

(via thisboythatgirl)


sigmundfreund:

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH UUUUGUHUUHUUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHHUUHUHUHUHUHUHUHHuhUUHUHUHUUHUhuhGUHUGHUGhugHUGUHU

EAAHUUUUAAAAAAEEUAUHUHGHGHGHGHAENOFFFNFGAINCKSPSNGGGG.

 2
30 Mar 14 at 1 am

Max was a good bird that defied gender norms. He was a female, and he was a funny little bird.

I would say “fly freely in the afterlife” but you were never very good at flying and really didn’t like being out of your cage. Instead, may you rock peacefully back and forth on a cute little swing because I know that’s what you liked best.

Good job little birdie. You did well.


tags: me  pet  rip 
Max was a good bird that defied gender norms. He was a female, and he was a funny little bird.
I would say “fly freely in the afterlife” but you were never very good at flying and really didn’t like being out of your cage. Instead, may you rock peacefully back and forth on a cute little swing because I know that’s what you liked best.
Good job little birdie. You did well.
 267441
29 Mar 14 at 10 pm

jayjayvanzz:

I think I won the entire game

(via sincerely--kitty)


jayjayvanzz:

I think I won the entire game
 9352
26 Mar 14 at 4 pm

ohlovelypop:

Miss Piggy stickers

(via elizabeth-virginia)


ohlovelypop:

Miss Piggy stickers
 161035
24 Mar 14 at 5 pm

Shahrazad al-Khalij  (via nizariat)

(via anamaranth)


"If someday the moon calls you by your name don’t be surprised,
Because every night I tell her about you."

 1
23 Mar 14 at 3 pm

Roderick “What-the-fuck” Chisholm


tags: philosophy 

"[A person is] that which is necessarily such that it is physically possible that there is a time at which that thing consciously thinks."