1. When you are confronted by life and have to make big decisions, the kind that keep you up at night, worrying about whether or not you’ve ruined your life, and any chances at happiness, after you make those decisions you think you’re done for a while. You’ve paid your debt in worry and stress and foolishness, and now you get a break, a few easy years of just dealing with the consequences of that choice before you have to make another one. Turns out, deciding to go to graduate school and choosing a school/professor/project isn’t enough. The ever-present spectre of “WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO AFTER GRAD SCHOOL” is always there for you when you finally get comfortable.

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  2. verifascinating:

    thetrekkiehasthephonebox:

    musewhipped:

    Four to beam down, Mr Scott!

    This is is possibly the coolest Star Trek TOS fan art I’ve ever seen!

    No, but seriously, where did this come from? Who is the artist? Where was this taken?

    It’s an art installation at the Microsoft office Studio D in Redmond, Washington, made by Devorah Sperber. It’s made of 75,000 beads.

    So amazing. I would love to see TNG also.

    Reblogged from: themarysue
  3. ink-splotch:

    There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She’s become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.” - JK Rowling

    Can we talk about Susan’s fabulous adventures after Narnia? The ones where she wears nylons and elegant blouses when she wants to, and short skirts and bright lipstick when she wants to, and hiking boots and tough jeans and big men’s plaid shirts when she feels like backpacking out into the mountains and remembering what it was to be lost in a world full of terrific beauty— I know her siblings say she stops talking about it, that Susan walks away from the memories of Narnia, but I don’t think she ever really forgot.

    I want to read about Susan finishing out boarding school as a grown queen reigning from a teenaged girl’s body. School bullies and peer pressure from children and teachers who treat you like you’re less than sentient wouldn’t have the same impact. C’mon, Susan of the Horn, Susan who bested the DLF at archery, and rode a lion, and won wars, sitting in a school uniform with her eyebrows rising higher and higher as some old goon at the front of the room slams his fist on the lectern. 

    Susan living through WW2, huddling with her siblings, a young adult (again), a fighting queen and champion marksman kept from the action, until she finally storms out against screaming parents’ wishes and volunteers as a nurse on the front. She keeps a knife or two hidden under her clothes because when it comes down to it, they called her Gentle, but sometimes loving means fighting for what you care for. 

    She’ll apply to a women’s college on the East Coast, because she fell in love with America when her parents took her there before the war. She goes in majoring in Literature (her ability to decipher High Diction in historical texts is uncanny), but checks out every book she can on history, philosophy, political science. She sneaks into the boys’ school across town and borrows their books too. She was once responsible for a kingdom, roads and taxes and widows and crops and war. She grew from child to woman with that mantle of duty wrapped around her shoulders. Now, tossed here on this mundane land, forever forbidden from her true kingdom, Susan finds that she can give up Narnia but she cannot give up that responsibility. She looks around and thinks I could do this better.

    I want Susan sneaking out to drink at pubs with the girls, her friends giggling at the boys checking them out from across the way, until Susan walks over (with her nylons, with her lipstick, with her sovereignty written out in whatever language she damn well pleases) and beats them all at pool. Susan studying for tests and bemoaning Aristotle and trading a boy with freckles all over his nose shooting lessons so that he will teach her calculus. Susan kissing boys and writing home to Lucy and kissing girls and helping smuggle birth control to the ladies in her dorm because Susan Pevensie is a queen and she understands the right of a woman to rule over her own body. 

    Susan losing them all to a train crash, Edmund and Peter and Lucy, Jill and Eustace, and Lucy and Lucy and Lucy, who Susan’s always felt the most responsible for. Because this is a girl who breathes responsibility, the little mother to her three siblings until a wardrobe whisked them away and she became High Queen to a whole land, ruled it for more than a decade, then came back centuries later as a legend. What it must do to you, to be a legend in the body of a young girl, to have that weight on your shoulders and have a lion tell you that you have to let it go. What is must do to you, to be left alone to decide whether to bury your family in separate ceremonies, or all at once, the same way they died, all at once and without you. What it must do to you, to stand there in black, with your nylons, and your lipstick, and feel responsible for these people who you will never be able to explain yourself to and who you can never save. 

    Maybe she dreams sometimes they made it back to Narnia after all. Peter is a king again. Lucy walks with Aslan and all the dryads dance. Maybe Susan dreams that she went with them— the train jerks, a bright light, a roar calling you home. 

    Maybe she doesn’t. 

    Susan grows older and grows up. Sometimes she hears Lucy’s horrified voice in her head, “Nylons? Lipstick, Susan? Who wants to grow up?”  and Susan thinks, “Well you never did, Luce.” Susan finishes her degree, stays in America (England looks too much like Narnia, too much like her siblings, and too little, all at once). She starts writing for the local paper under the pseudonym Frank Tumnus, because she wants to write about politics and social policy and be listened to, because the name would have made Edmund laugh. 

    She writes as Susan Pevensie, too, about nylons and lipstick, how to give a winning smiles and throw parties, because she knows there is a kind of power there and she respects it. She won wars with war sometimes, in Narnia, but sometimes she stopped them before they began.

    Peter had always looked disapprovingly on the care with which Susan applied her makeup back home in England, called it vanity. And even then, Susan would smile at him, say “I use what weapons I have at hand,” and not explain any more than that. The boy ruled at her side for more than a decade. He should know better. 

    Vain is not the proper word. This is about power. But maybe Peter wouldn’t have liked the word “ambition” any more than “vanity.”

    Susan is a young woman in the 50s and 60s. Frank Tumnus has quite the following now. He’s written a few books, controversial, incendiary. Susan gets wrapped up in the civil rights movement, because of course she would. It’s not her first war. All the same, she almost misses the White Witch. Greed is a cleaner villain than senseless hate. She gets on the Freedom Rider bus, mails Mr. Tumnus articles back home whenever there’s a chance, those rare occasions they’re not locked up or immediately threatened. She is older now than she ever was in Narnia. Susan dreams about Telemarines killing fauns. 

    Time rolls on. Maybe she falls in love with a young activist or an old cynic. Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe Frank Tumnus, controversial in the moment, brilliant in retrospect, gets offered an honorary title from a prestigious university. She declines and publishes an editorial revealing her identity. Her paper fires her. Three others mail her job offers. 

    When Vietnam rolls around, she protests in the streets. Susan understands the costs of war. She has lived through not just through the brutal wars of one life, but two. 

    Maybe she has children now. Maybe she tells them stories about a magical place and a magical lion, the stories Lucy and Edmund brought home about how if you sail long enough you reach the place where the seas fall off the edge of the world. But maybe she tells them about Cinderella instead, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, except Rapunzel cuts off her own hair and uses it to climb down the tower and escape. The damsel uses what tools she has at hand. 

    A lion told her to walk away, and she did. He forbade her magic, he forbade her her own kingdom, so she made her own. 

    Susan Pevensie did not lose faith. She found it. 

    Reblogged from: themarysue
  4. princessqueer:

    theblackpoolmenace-senpai:

    dramaddict:

    one guacamole is equal to 6.0221415×10²³ guacas

    I’m disgusted by my ability to get this joke

    one might even call it

    avocado’s number

    Reblogged from: homopteran
  5. They also preferred pheromones from queens with a larger volume of semen stuffed inside of them.
    Reblogged from: outofcontextscience
  6. explore-blog:

Happy birthday, Marie Cure.

    explore-blog:

    Happy birthday, Marie Cure.

    Reblogged from: jtotheizzoe
  7. evyskitchen:

Vegetarian Potstickers
Ingredients for 100 pieces:
10 ounces firm tofu, drained
1/2 medium onion
1″ piece of ginger, peeled
3 cloves garlic
2 cups shiitake mushrooms, stems removed
1 carrot
1 stalk celery
2 cups cabbage, finely shredded
1 cup bean sprouts, chopped
3 teaspoons sesame oil
4 tablespoons soy sauce
freshly ground pepper and salt, to taste
2 packages gyoza/potsticker wrappers
For dipping sauce:
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 clove garlic, minced
1 small red chili pepper, thinly sliced (optional)
Crumble tofu with your hands until it resembles ground meat. Place in a strainer and set aside.
In the bowl of a food processor, combine onion, ginger  garlic, mushrooms, carrot, and celery. Pulse until ingredients are roughly chopped. Place mixture into a large bowl. Mix in cabbage, bean sprouts, and tofu. Sprinkle mixture with sesame oil, soy sauce, pepper, and salt and mix well to combine.
Set up your station: bowl of filling, stack of potsticker wrapper, a small bowl filled with water, and a large baking sheet.
To fold: place wrapper in your non-dominant hand. Scoop about 1 tablespoon of filling into the center of the wrapper. Wet a finger on your dominant hand and lightly trace the outside of the wrapper. Fold wrapper in half to form a half circle and pinch at the top. Starting at the center, make 3 pleats down toward the bottom-right corner. Repeat on the left side. Continue with the remaining filling and wrappers.
To cook: heat a large, lidded saute pan over high heat. Add in 1 teaspoon oil and swirl pan to coat. Add pot stickers, pleat-side up, being careful not to overcrowd. Cook until bottoms are browned, about 5 minutes. Add in 1/2 cup water and immediately cover the pan to contain the splatter. After 30 seconds, when splattering has subsided, slightly crack the lid open to allow steam to escape. Cook for an additional 5 minutes or until heated through and water has evaporated. Let cook for an additional 1 – 2 minutes to allow bottom to re-crisp. Serve immediately with dipping sauce.
To make dipping sauce: combine soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and chili pepper in a small bowl. Stir to combine.

    evyskitchen:

    Vegetarian Potstickers

    Ingredients for 100 pieces:

    • 10 ounces firm tofu, drained
    • 1/2 medium onion
    • 1″ piece of ginger, peeled
    • 3 cloves garlic
    • 2 cups shiitake mushrooms, stems removed
    • 1 carrot
    • 1 stalk celery
    • 2 cups cabbage, finely shredded
    • 1 cup bean sprouts, chopped
    • 3 teaspoons sesame oil
    • 4 tablespoons soy sauce
    • freshly ground pepper and salt, to taste
    • 2 packages gyoza/potsticker wrappers

    For dipping sauce:

    • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
    • 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
    • 1 clove garlic, minced
    • 1 small red chili pepper, thinly sliced (optional)
    1. Crumble tofu with your hands until it resembles ground meat. Place in a strainer and set aside.
    2. In the bowl of a food processor, combine onion, ginger  garlic, mushrooms, carrot, and celery. Pulse until ingredients are roughly chopped. Place mixture into a large bowl. Mix in cabbage, bean sprouts, and tofu. Sprinkle mixture with sesame oil, soy sauce, pepper, and salt and mix well to combine.
    3. Set up your station: bowl of filling, stack of potsticker wrapper, a small bowl filled with water, and a large baking sheet.
    4. To fold: place wrapper in your non-dominant hand. Scoop about 1 tablespoon of filling into the center of the wrapper. Wet a finger on your dominant hand and lightly trace the outside of the wrapper. Fold wrapper in half to form a half circle and pinch at the top. Starting at the center, make 3 pleats down toward the bottom-right corner. Repeat on the left side. Continue with the remaining filling and wrappers.
    5. To cook: heat a large, lidded saute pan over high heat. Add in 1 teaspoon oil and swirl pan to coat. Add pot stickers, pleat-side up, being careful not to overcrowd. Cook until bottoms are browned, about 5 minutes. Add in 1/2 cup water and immediately cover the pan to contain the splatter. After 30 seconds, when splattering has subsided, slightly crack the lid open to allow steam to escape. Cook for an additional 5 minutes or until heated through and water has evaporated. Let cook for an additional 1 – 2 minutes to allow bottom to re-crisp. Serve immediately with dipping sauce.
    6. To make dipping sauce: combine soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and chili pepper in a small bowl. Stir to combine.
    Reblogged from: mycology
  8. ilovecharts:

Color distribution of Smarties
-maybealittlebit 

This is delightful, but… these ARENT smarties. These are Rockets. 

    ilovecharts:

    Color distribution of Smarties

    -maybealittlebit 

    This is delightful, but… these ARENT smarties. These are Rockets. 

    Reblogged from: ilovecharts
  9. jtotheizzoe:

From The Old Astronomer (To His Pupil) by Sarah Williams
The full poem:
Reach me down my Tycho Brahé, — I would know him when we meet,When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of howWe are working to completion, working on from then to now.Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,And remember men will scorn it, ‘tis original and true,And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,What for us are all distractions of men’s fellowship and wiles;What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles.You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant’s fate.Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.You “have none but me,” you murmur, and I “leave you quite alone”?Well then, kiss me, — since my mother left her blessing on my brow,There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;I can dimly comprehend it, — that I might have been more kind,Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.I “have never failed in kindness”? No, we lived too high for strife,—Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you stillTo the service of our science: you will further it? you will!There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;And remember, “Patience, Patience,” is the watchword of a sage,Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;But if none should do my reaping, ‘twill disturb me in my sleepSo be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,—God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

This poem made me feel melancholy and wistful. I like it.

    jtotheizzoe:

    From The Old Astronomer (To His Pupil) by Sarah Williams

    The full poem:

    Reach me down my Tycho Brahé, — I would know him when we meet,
    When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
    He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
    We are working to completion, working on from then to now.

    Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,
    Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,
    And remember men will scorn it, ‘tis original and true,
    And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.

    But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,
    You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,
    What for us are all distractions of men’s fellowship and wiles;
    What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles.

    You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,
    But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant’s fate.
    Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
    I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

    What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;
    You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
    I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
    You “have none but me,” you murmur, and I “leave you quite alone”?

    Well then, kiss me, — since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
    There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
    I can dimly comprehend it, — that I might have been more kind,
    Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.

    I “have never failed in kindness”? No, we lived too high for strife,—
    Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
    But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
    To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!

    There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
    To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
    And remember, “Patience, Patience,” is the watchword of a sage,
    Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.

    I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;
    But if none should do my reaping, ‘twill disturb me in my sleep
    So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
    See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.

    I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
    Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
    It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,—
    God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

    This poem made me feel melancholy and wistful. I like it.

    Reblogged from: jtotheizzoe
  10. Ten lined june beetle or Watermelon Beetle - Polyphylla decemlineata I found 4 of these guys in jars in the lab. Once they’re re-hydrated I’m going to pin them up fancy. I like finding awesome things in the lab. Makes it worth cleaning…

    Ten lined june beetle or Watermelon Beetle - Polyphylla decemlineata I found 4 of these guys in jars in the lab. Once they’re re-hydrated I’m going to pin them up fancy. I like finding awesome things in the lab. Makes it worth cleaning…

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