Summer 2013 Search Engine Questions

Today I thought I’d answer some more recent search terms that have brought new readers to this blog. Feel free to leave your own responses in the comment section!

Why am I chattier on certain days and quiet on others? Did you know that words build up slowly in the back of your mouth when you sleep? If you don’t use them all up at the end of the day they reach maturity and start making baby words before you go to bed. By the time you wake up the next morning your tonsils are infested with two or three times your normal daily allotment of speech. You either have to spit them all out or risk them migrating up to your brainstem and take over your nervous system. Nobody wants that to happen.

Why is Christina so crabby? She doesn’t read this blog.

How to understand the type of person who won’t let you get a word in edgewise in a conversation. No one ever taught them that it takes at least two to carry a conversation.

Can people change fundamentally? No.

A non-theistic blessing before a meal.

Good bread, good meat.

Good God, let’s eat!

Should I apologize to my husband’s mistress? I’d love to know the rest of this story. If the person who searched for an answer to this question ever reads this, please let us know what happened!

Are extroverts doomed to repeat their mistakes for life? No.

What are men thinking when they go quiet? They seem strangely unwilling to answer this question. 😛 For the record, this is a great question to ask me if you’re interested in surviving the next apocalypse or wonder why Cheese Man never runs low on cheese. I have stacks of theories about both topics!

What man’s name gives the impression of [him being] trustworthy? Short ones.

Here’s a sign that my readers have high self esteem: I cant believe how f8cking awesome I am.

Finally, someone found this blog by searching for the phrase elders of lo don. Googling it turned up nothing, so I decided to write flash fiction about these elders so they’ll have something to do until we actually invent them.

“Herman, you fatuous fool!” 

“What happened?” 

“What sort of dingbat sleeps while the fire burns out?” 

“It’s still smouldering, Helga.We’ll be just fine!”

“The Elders of Lo Don don’t exist for just fine work. Go scrub the front steps. I’ll finish your watch.”

 After Herman left Helga crouched over the fragile flame. Achoo! Helga watch in horror as the tiny flame disappeared. A moment later she joined it. 

A 3.4 earthquake jiggled San Jose that January evening, but it wasn’t until the end of the cold, cropless summer that the humans realized something was terribly wrong.

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After the Storm: Part Sixteen

© Michael Gäbler / Wikimedia Commons / CC-BY-SA-3.0

© Michael Gäbler / Wikimedia Commons / CC-BY-SA-3.0

Just tuning in? Catch up with parts onetwo, threefour,  five,  six,  seveneightnineten, eleven,  twelve ,  thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen of this story.

Her son’s harrowing story had left everyone convinced that the Lewis house would be targeted next, but when three, four, five quiet nights passed without incident and Paige and Wilma continued to improve Daphne no longer knew what to expect. It was easier to live in terror than to wake up every morning wondering if the soldiers would come back today.

Sometimes when Felix and Wilma were fighting over a toy or Paige interrupted Daphne’s train of thought to once again tell her how to properly boil a pot of tea or brush the dirt out of Lemon’s hair Daphne fantasized about walking away from it all for an afternoon. She wouldn’t come home again until just before Ephraim and Isaac expected dinner. The pain in her knee was receding, and while it was still quite stiff she was slowly learning her new limitations. Walking short distances wasn’t too painful, but the long, peaceful hikes she’d grown accustomed to as a single woman living alone were quickly becoming a distant memory.

Before the storm Daphne and Lemon had regularly gone a week or two without seeing anyone other than Nevaeh. Now her small, brown adobe was littered with sleeping mats, and her once-tidy front yard was strewn with travelling tents, racks filled with vegetables in various stages of the drying process and the rocks Felix insisted were the foundation of an impenetrable fort. It was easier to let him run out into the desert and gather them up than to force him to sit quietly while his sister napped and the adults worked.

“You’re not cutting the carrots uniformly,” Paige said as she set down her own knife and walked over to Daphne’s side of the outdoor kitchen. “They won’t dry properly if they’re not all the same size.”

Daphne paused for a minute, raised her eyebrow at the older woman, and then looked down at the thin slices of carrot on her cutting board.

“I’m cutting them the same way I have for thirty years.”

“Well, it’s not the right way. Let me show you how it’s really done.” Daphne bristled as Paige reached over, took her knife and began cutting the carrots into thin slices.

“They look identical to me.”

“Well, they’re not. If you – ” Paige’s latest monologue was cut off by the sight of Felix bolting back into the yard. When he’d caught enough breath to respond to their questions he told them what he had seen. While looking for material to add to his fort Felix had noticed a boulder shimmering in the sun. As he stepped closer to it part of the rock disappeared and was replaced with the surprised face of a young woman lying on her stomach. No sooner had he seen her than she disappeared and the surface of the large rock reappeared.

No matter how many times the women questioned him Felix’s answers remained the same. No, this wasn’t a game and he hadn’t been feeling ill. Yes, he had been drinking enough water and he was sure of what he had seen. Paige’s response to his story was to hurry back to into the house and pray. She’d been horrified to discover that Daphne didn’t have a personal altar and had quickly assembled a simple one for the family. In the 15 years since Bonnie passed away Paige had only missed a handful of daily blessings for her final and favourite wife.

Daphne bit her bottom lip and continued slicing carrots as she talked to Felix. Paige’s tendency to do and say things before she thought about how they affected other people had irritated Daphne for years, but she had a tough time saying no to a neighbour who had already lost so much. Was there a way to ask Paige to dismantle the altar without hurting her feelings? Daphne hoped she could figure it out soon.

*******

Lemon started barking as soon as the soldiers began creeping  into Daphne’s yard. Paige and the children had gone to bed early, and at first Daphne tried to shush him so he wouldn’t wake them up. When she heard boots crunching through the pebbles in front of her door an old memory flooded Daphne’s mind.

“Stay here,” the brown, wrinkled, old man said the last time she saw him alive. The shouts in the yard grew louder as he shut her into the pantry and hurried to the front door. At any other time of year there would have been too much food stored in there for a near-adult to hide, but the last harvest had been poor and their supplies were dwindling. 

“We know she’s in there,” a man shouted. “Give us to her and you won’t be harmed.” Her harvest had been mediocre as well, and when you combined that with the rash of disease and other misfortunes it was easy to deduce that something – or someone – had angered the gods. While it was true that Daphne didn’t exhibit any physical signs of troubled past lives or multiple souls peering out of her troubled brown eyes, orphans and outsiders were easy suspects at times like this. Carl’s granddaughter was both. 

“Calm down, Bonnie,” her grandfather said. “I’m unlatching the door now and coming outside. We’ll talk about this like adults.” Daphne heard him unlatch the door and step outside. Her heart pounded as brusque words flew between them at a frequency too low for her to make out. 

A knock at the door. Isaac leapt up to answer it while Daphne wrapped her arms around Lemon to subdue his nervous energy and Ephraim stood guard. At first no one knew how to react when the door swung open and a tall, thin soldier with a black eye asked if she and her men could come in and talk.

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Suggestion Saturday: July 13, 2013

Here is this week’s list of blog posts and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

You’re Not My Mom! via FreeThinkAhead. Why pets aren’t children.

How USA General Knowledge Has Changed, 1980-2012. As a kid I read the encyclopedia for fun. Animals and diseases interested me the most, so that’s what I tended to explore. Finally logging onto the Internet as a teenager was incredible – I suddenly could answer questions as quickly as I thought of them! It will be intriguing to see how our definition of general knowledge shifts as it becomes more and more common for adults to have grown up with this instant access to information.

A Crystal Tear via CGAyling. A fairy tale that I hope will be expanded into a longer story. Let the author know if you like it as well!

Aging Gracefully via XplodingUnicorn. Why is it that people least willing to seek preventative medicine seem to live forever? The first paragraph in this link is comedy gold even if you don’t have relatives who think they should be able to patch up their own wounds.

From When The Bough Breaks:

Doctor, our insanity is not that we see people who aren’t there.
It’s that we ignore the ones who are.
Till we find ourselves scarred and ashamed
walking into emergency rooms at two a.m.
flooded with a pain we cannot name or explain
because we are bleeding from the outside in.

From What It Is Like to Be a Muslim Woman, And Why We Know What Freedom Is (And You May Not):

Saying I want to be alone, that I need space, that I do not want to reveal personal information, that I do not choose to answer that question, that it is none of your damn business, that this is my body and I can position it on the furniture however I like, that I do not have to explain to you why I am smiling, that this is my time, that this is my work, this is my mind and I can use it to read and write what I please…

I can say these things now.

I never could before.


You Are Not So Smart makes me miss studying psychology. This book is full of ways in which we trick ourselves into believing that our memories are static, our decisions are logical, and that we’d automatically make smarter choices than other people in emergencies.

Pop psychology works best when it sticks a small area of expertise and realizes its limits. While I would have preferred a more scholarly approach to the subject matter, this book was quite entertaining and it easily accessible to readers who haven’t studied psychology. There is definitely a need for more books like this, and I’m proud to recommend it to my readers.

What have you been reading?

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How to React When Your First Impression Is Negative

impressionsSomeone found this blog recently by searching for the title of this post. I talked about first impressions last summer, but I don’t remember ever discussing what to do with them.

Here’s the thing – first impressions aren’t always correct.

Some people have silver tongues when you first meet them but quickly reveal serious character flaws as your friendship grows.  And I’ve known socially awkward people who have a heart of gold once you get to know them. (Of course the opposite is true for both scenarios as well).

It’s impossible to know ahead of time if your first impression will turn out to be accurate, so I keep those thoughts in mind for the future and see what other clues they drop about their personality, character, and worldview.

No one can keep up a facade forever. Eventually you will figure out if they’re someone you can rely on to help you through rough patches in life, if they’re the kind of person who will gossip about you behind your back, if they’re willing to be honest with you when you’re in the wrong. A negative first impression might be reinforced, but it also might be neutralized by the way you see them behave in other settings. We’ve all experienced bad days, and we all make a terrible first impression on someone sooner or later.

Or maybe I’m the only one brave enough to admit that. 😉

I am hesitant to discuss certain topics until I’ve known someone a long time, though. Sometimes I’ve probably been too cautious, but I’d rather have a good idea of how someone will react than jump into a sensitive discussion without any idea where I might land. A negative first impression will make me even more willing to avoid certain topics, but I don’t have problem changing my mind if the person I’m getting to know demonstrates  that we share common values.

No, that is not a veiled reference to religion, politics, or ideology. I am drawn to kind, compassionate, playful, inclusive folks, and they’re found everywhere.

Readers, how would you answer this question?

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After the Storm: Part Fifteen

Photo by Quinn Dombrowski.

Photo by Quinn Dombrowski.

Just tuning in? Catch up with parts onetwo, threefour,  five,  six,  seveneightnineteneleven,  twelve ,  thirteen, and fourteen of this story.

It wasn’t until the loose brick she’d pried from the kitchen hearth found its target that Paige realized the trespasser might still be human. She lit a lamp with shaking hands. As Paige crept up to figure out who had come into her home in the middle of the night she wondered if this would be the boulder that broke Horatio’s Scale.

After each lifetime the gods weighed your good deeds against your bad. The heavier side of the scale influenced whether your next lifetime was easy or difficult, long or short. Rarely someone would do something so terrible that Horatio’s Scale cracked underneath the weight of it all, and the punishment for this was becoming Death. Collect enough souls and you might get a second chance,  although Paige doubted the world was old enough for anyone to have served their full sentence yet.

The trespasser was human. Male. Breathing shallowly. Light brown hair matted with blood. His thin, wispy beard made her guess he was 14 or 15 years old, but he was small for his age. The only personal item in his possession was small black stone. She tossed it aside without a second glance.

Whatever his intentions tonight, they couldn’t have been good.  Daphne rolled him onto his back and wondered what to do next. Was he a drifter or would someone come looking for him in a few days? Her thoughts were interrupted by Wilma’s cries, and she left the stranger alone to tend to her great-grandaughter.

*********

Isaac’s eyes grew big when he returned to Paige’s house. The soldier was alive for now, but his pupils were uneven and the wound on his head continued to seep. There were no bandages, and Isaac didn’t know how the local gods would feel about being interceded for the fate of a stranger, but he sent a silent prayer to them anyway as he wiped away the blood and began applying pressure on the wound.

“I thought he was Death,” Paige said as she snuffed out the sputtering lamp, added more oil, and then relit it. Isaac was about to ask her what she meant when she spoke up again. “I’d never hurt a real person.” Had her fever been that high? It was as if she was telling him one of the fairy stories from her childhood about flying wagons and people that appeared and disappeared at will, not recounting something that had happened within the last hour.

“What do we do now?” Paige asked after Daphne’s son explained what little he knew of the stranger’s origins. Was it better to try to contact the army leader and explain what happened or wait until they came looking for their comrade? The boy’s breathing was slowing down, and Isaac wondered if he’d live long enough for them to fix everything.

“We have to treat him here,” Isaac said. He knew almost nothing about medicine, but he doubted it would be wise to move someone with such a serious wound. People with even the worst injuries sometimes recovered if you stopped the bleeding and gave their bodies time to heal.

Paige started a fire with the wood Isaac had brought in while he did his best to keep the soldier alive. By the time the fire grew large enough to illuminate the puddle of blood at the entryway Isaac realized that his efforts were in vain. The stranger never regained consciousness. Isaac wished he knew what the soldier was doing creeping around in the middle of the night. When the next soldier came looking for his or her comrade Paige and the child would have no way to defend themselves, and neither one was strong enough to go running for help. All Isaac could do was hope his mother understood in the morning.

*****

Suddenly Daphne was wide awake, her heart thumping wildly as she shifted to a less painful sleeping position. Lemon whined and licked her hand. Morning light was just beginning to leak through the front door, and for a second she didn’t notice Delphine’s daughter curled up next to the dog. How on earth did a sick toddler walk three miles through the freezing desert in the middle of the night?

Isaac was sitting at the kitchen table staring at the steam rising from his cup of tea. Daphne’s stomach clenched in apprehension as he recounted the strange events from the night before. She’d been suspicious of the soldier’s intentions before, but learning that they were targeting other families as well strengthened her resolve to fight back. All she had to do first was figure out how to keep the vapours that had made Willa and Delphine so ill from spreading to anyone else.

“Set up the travelling tents in the front yard,” she told her son. “You, Ephraim, and Felix will sleep outside for now. I’ll look after the others.” She shuddered at the thought of getting ill, but Daphne preferred taking that risk herself over asking her sons to do it. Paige would be well soon anyway, and between the two of them they could hopefully nurse the girl back to health as well.

Isaac stared at her in disbelief. It was rare for his mother to change her mind so rapidly. As a boy he’d often been frustrated by her obstinate refusal to change her mind once she made up her mind about something. Even Nevaeh had struggled to get through to her when she’d decided to push her kids into doing something for their own good.

Then again, nothing like this had ever happened before and Nevaeh was no longer around to temper Daphne’s stubbornness.

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Suggestion Saturday: July 6, 2013

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, reviews, paintings, poems, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

My Proposal for a Bill Banning Male Masturbation. A satirical look at what might happen if men in the U.S. were treated the way certain states (Texas, Ohio) are treating women right now. Possibly NSFW.

Bigotry. The world is changing rapidly. I wonder what it will look like in 50 years?

It’s All About One’s Mood. Take a good look at this painting before scrolling down to read the artist’s comments. What emotions do you read in the subject’s body language?

You Just Broke Your Child. Congratulations via Danoah. This blog post is about parenting, but I’d argue that something similar could be said about our relationships with everyone in our lives. Emotionally destroying people is never ok. We all have bad days, of course. It’s part of being human. I completely understand feeling frustrated, but if (general) you are this mean-spirited and callous in public I can only assume your behaviour is a thousand times worse behind closed doors.

From Night Owl via SufiJohn:

Andrew, even as a young man,

leaves on his bedroom light;

brightly artificial
with an open door.

What About the “B” in “LGBT”? So I have a theory about the folks who say the ridiculous things this blogger is talking about: they do it to everyone because they think their way is the only one.

  • Are you single? You better find someone fast before all the good ones are taken.
  • Are you gay or lesbian? You came out too early/late/quietly/proudly.
  • Are you married?  Hasn’t anyone ever told you that interracial/interfaith/May-December/binational relationships never work out? Not to mention the fact that you got married too young/old/soon/late in a ceremony that wast too big/small/secular/religious.
  • Do you have a kid? You’re conceiving/birthing/feeding/educating/disciplining them incorrectly.

Yes, it’s incredibly annoying and hurtful…but I strongly suspect that this is a case of a vocal minority making the rest of us feel weird for not doing things the “right” way. Most people don’t agree with them, though.

From In Which I Real-Time Review ‘Katy Perry: Part of Me” via VampireNomad:

The background of Katy’s life growing up immersed in Christianity is both strange and understandable.  I can identify with the total immersion though she had a much more intense time of it than I did.  Her parents, traveling evangelical preachers, come off as theatrical.  With that charlatan edge that gives so many preachers a bad name.  And perhaps they are charlatans.  Or perhaps they aren’t.  But any upbringing with any sort of strict boundaries or full religious flavor will seem highly unorthodox alongside the pastel boobs-and-froth hype of Katy’s public persona.  She has voluntarily made overexposure, coy revelations, and sugary teasing a normal way of life so the juxtaposition will be striking.  She is very like many pastor’s kids I have known: talented and shackled with moral restrictions that they wriggle free of with wild acting out.  The everyday rigors of growing up are both exacerbated and ignored by the religion so the rebellion is exaggerated when it happens.  Katy is exactly a product of her upbringing.


As anyone who has ever made Tear Soup knows, grieving is hard, lonely work.

This book describes how it’s done and what friends and family members can do to help. I loved the authors’ playful use of metaphor to get their message across. While god is mentioned, religion is not the focus of the healing process in this fable. You can be part of any faith (or none at all) and still put the principles of this book into place when you or someone you know is grieving.

What have you been reading?

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How to Respect People Who Don’t Respect You

Photo by Agiorgio.

Photo by Agiorgio.

Someone recently found On the Other Hand through an Internet search for this phrase. Most of my readers are from the States, so I’m expecting traffic to be lighter than usual today and tomorrow as they celebrate Independence Day. I thought it would be fun to talk about this for those of you who are still around.

My answer is as follows:

Respect is a two-way street, and I’ve learned that often people who have serious issues with giving it away are also misers emotionally, spiritually, psychologically, and financially.

I’d give this person the same basic level of respect I have for all humans, but a red flag like this one would make me keep my distance. To me it makes no sense to get close to someone who clearly does not have my best interests at heart.

Also remember that most folks are kind and respectful.

Why not focus the bulk of your time and energy on the good people in this world? By all means be kind to people who won’t reciprocate..but don’t give them more energy than you can spare. Just like flight attendants always say in the safety lecture before a flight takes off, you have to put on your own oxygen mask first before you can help anyone else.

Readers, how would you answer this question?

 

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50 Great Facts About the 50 American States

Edit: I just realized this video uses Flash and can only be viewed on a Mac or PC. Apologies to those of you who weren’t able to watch it. Use this link if the video above doesn’t work.

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After the Storm: Part Fourteen

DeathJust tuning in? Catch up with parts onetwo, threefour,  five,  six,  seveneightnineteneleven,  twelve , and thirteen of this story.

Paige sat the little stone table her first wife had carved as a wedding present for her decades ago. It was funny how quickly time passed. Fifty happy, painful, warm, and exhausting years flew by in a heartbeat, and now that beat might end.

Death would be returning soon. He’d spirited Nevaeh away a few hours ago. Paige doubted her only daughter had felt anything other than relief when she heard him whisper something into her right ear. At dusk he’d come back for Delphine.

Her granddaughter had grudgingly married the man her grandmother chose and learned to like the names Felix, Wilma,and Malachi after Nevaeh picked them out. Paige never would have guessed the timid girl had some fight in her after all. Her final kick cracked his clavicle and for a moment both women thought she would be victorious. If only Delphine had focused on her burning desire to remain with her surviving children as the pale one leaned forward and whispered something in her right ear.

In the end she’d gone with him more or less willingly.

Wilma was breathing more easily now. Her fever raged on, but she hadn’t coughed up fresh blood in hours. The girl slept next to the half-warm embers of the kitchen fire as Death stumbled back into the house. His limp, damp, dusty robes slid past his still-healing clavicle as he bent over to unfasten the chain from his waist.

“Your work here is finished,” Paige said with a tight-lipped smile as she straightened her spine and stood up. She was a smidgen over 5 feet tall and weighed less than 90 pounds, but she expanded her will to fill every inch of it in what could be her final battle.

“I just want to bring you home,” Death sighed. As a small child she’d snapped off the tip of his left index finger when a poisonous snake bit her ankle, and she’d almost severed his skull from his spinal column when she haemorrhaged after the birth of her first child. He had only recently regained feeling in that vertebra. “It isn’t painful, and you’ll be reunited with your wives and children again in the next lifetime.” She crossed her arms and leaned forward as Wilma coughed and scooted closer to the ashes.

“The Mingus need five things for a good death,” she said with a flat tone as she counted them off one finger at a time. “One, to be aware it’s coming. Two, to have one last chance to make amends for past wrongs. Three, to say goodbye to loved ones. Four, to choose the hour in which it happens. Five, to be buried with the acknowledgement of your good deeds so the gods reward you with an auspicious rebirth.”

People who died quickly or who were buried improperly struggled to adjust to the afterlife and could be quite restless in their next incarnation.  Paige refused to be one of them. Dusty trails, child-birthing rooms, and cold, hard kitchen benches in the middle of the night were unseemly places to die. Death should know by now that she was a stickler for the rules, and if he ever hoped to take her peacefully it would be when she was surrounded by loved ones and assured of a proper burial.

The standoff began.

*****

The old woman was slumped over the table, her thin face buried in the crook of her arm when Isaac walked in the front door. For a long, terrible moment the room overflowed with silence until he heard her grunt and choke on the slowly thinning secretions in her lungs as she shifted positions. Isaac went to check on the remaining members of her family.

The child was still alive. Nevaeh and Delphine were not. There were no ceremonial skins left to wrap them in and no time to transcribe their deeds on the dirty, wool blankets they would carry to the next world. He worked quickly and quietly, and he was so absorbed in choking back his grief and bringing the bodies out to the front yard that Isaac never noticed the soldier wedged under the bushes tapping furiously away at a small, black, glowing stone.

Melvin Watts looked up when he heard him coming and quickly wiped the front of the stone clean. For a brief moment the faint light from the screen grew brighter before it dulled to what appeared to be a rough, light brown finish.  If something happened to him now or if the tablet was lost none of these peasants would look twice at it. They couldn’t even be trusted to dispense the vaccine when they were sent enough doses to immunize twice as many people as were projected to live in this hellhole.

At least he’d finally been upgraded to a proper communication device. Mel had hated writing down every detail of that boring old woman’s life, especially when he knew he’d have to type it all out again as soon as he got back to base camp. He couldn’t understand why anyone would design such fragile handwriting scanners when they knew folks like him would be using them in an extremely dusty climate. Hopefully this tablet lasted longer than the remainder of his deployment. He would definitely not be reenlisting in August.

When Isaac dragged the bodies a safe distance from the house for burial Melvin decided to turn his equipment back on and quickly scan the empty rooms. His superiors had just increased the bonus to 100,000 credits for anyone who discovered information leading to the arrest of the Pucey brothers. Bringing back news of hidden rooms and contraband items earned less of a reward, but even a few hundred credits would make Mel a happy man when they returned to civilization.

As he skittered across the yard Paige moaned and sat up. Her temples throbbed and there was a crick in her neck. As she gingerly stretched her sore muscles she heard something rustle at the front door.

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Suggestion Saturday: June 29, 2013

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, mysteries, poems, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

Judgmental People via NoQuivering.It takes time to settle into your skin and learn how to be true to yourself even when you’re around people who can’t handle it.

I Believe I Will. How four little words spontaneously uttered in the 1880s are still affecting people’s lives today.

She’ll Forgive the Stars via dlboonstra. What is your interpretation of this poem? I’ve been mulling over it all week.

The Mystery of the Spinning Statuette. It’s entertaining to wonder if there’s a supernatural explanation for this spinning statuette, but I actually find the scientific explanation more compelling. I never would have guessed that slight vibrations could have such a big impact in this situation.

All Honest Mistakes Are Forgivable. I have mixed feelings about the specific example of forgiving mistakes that is mentioned in this link, but I deeply admire the author’s compassion.

Benham’s Disc. The lines turned green for me when I stared directly at it. They were red and blue when I looked at it from an angle.

From Why I’m Not Particularly Worried About Being Nice via Virtusetveritas:

But, I’m not the one making the rules, sadly. I spend a lot of time– most of my time, actually– talking about deeply entrenched ideas and patterns held by powerful, privileged people. I speak out against the abuse these systems perpetuate and the people who perpetuate them. However, as a woman, as a feminist, as a person who in the view of those I critique do not have the right to be listened to and heard, there’s no way for me to be nice enough.


How do you become a doctor when no medical college will accept you as a student because of your gender? In My Name is Mary Sutter, a midwife solves this question by convincing a surgeon to teach her everything he knows while they take care of soldiers during the Civil War.

I loved the vivid descriptions of illnesses and medical procedures in this book. Imagine coaching a pregnant woman through a life-threatening delivery, amputating a limb, or treating dysentery without anesthesia, antibiotics, intravenous rehydration, blood donors, or any understanding of germ theory.

What have you been reading?

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