Learning about myself in the world and shouting into the void. I just want to love the beauty in the world and it's people. My interests take me everywhere.
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I think that would be so much funny. He wakes up on a remote beach in Jamaica and he only speaks/understands Brythonic and Medieval Latin. Locals assume he was a tourist who fell from a cruise ship or received a head injury and floated away from a resort. The authorities cannot match his description to any missing persons reports and his fingerprints and DNA produce no hits on INTERPOL. They suspect he may be Welsh or French because the language he speaks resembles Welsh or Breton but France and the UK both state he is not a citizen of their country. Stateless and deeply confused, he is taken in by the community near the beach where he was found, being cared for by a number of local families and doing odd jobs. He slowly learns English and adjusts to the contemporary world, uncertain if his belief that he is the legendary King Arthur was formed by whatever traumatic event caused him to end up Jamaica or if he is actually King Arthur and Prydain is in eminent peril. Mysterious letters from Morgan begin to reaffirm his belief he is King Arthur. He must choose between staying in Jamaica and continuing the happy life he has made for himself or finding a way to get back to Britain without any documentation.
He gets to Britain and everyone expects him to sound like a posh noble Englishman because that is the picture Malory painted but he prefers to speak Welsh and when he has to speak English, he speaks with a thick Jamaican accent.
also the way he pulls britain out of said peril really pisses off the right wingers, at least in part because he recognises that he cannot do it alone and chooses those he trusts (his jamaican community) as his knights
Absolutely, Guinevere is the Jamaican nurse who took him in in this universe and many of his friends in the Jamaican community that took him in are analogous with/reincarnations of common characters from Arthurian mythology. Except for Merlin. Who is the original Merlin. Who is living a retiree lifestyle in The Bahamas for plot and wizard foresight reasons.
Parent: "I'm able to forgive you for the hurtful things you've done. So why aren't you able to forgive me for the hurtful things I've done?"
Child: "Because anytime I did something hurtful, you could just punish me. But anytime you did something hurtful, I had to accept it. You never had to tolerate living by the rule that it's my right to hurt you. You never had to bottle up your pain because you were punished for expressing it. Also, my hurtful actions were in response to you abusing me and making sure I have zero proper channels to fight back, while your hurtful actions were because you can."
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I believe that every dog deserves to be picked up and carried like a baby. I - in partnership with Cesar Millan and WWE - have created a training program
The recent hot VS cold polls have made me realise that a lot of people have no idea how to cool down.
As someone from a hot country that's regularly on fire, here's some tips:
WATER IS YOUR FRIEND! WATER! IS! YOUR! FRIEND! You can transfer SO much heat into this bad boy! You cannot cool down without water!
Wrists under the cold tap. Splash your face and the back of your neck. Fan yourself.
In some countries you can buy a little handeld fan with a water sprayer.
Damp tea towel around the neck. Stick an ice pack in there on hotter days.
Half fill a water bottle with water, stick in freezer. If you use a bottle with a straw, make sure it's lying on its side with the straw side up and out of the water. When frozen top up the rest of the way with tap water and off you go.
Desperate to cool off? Wet T-shirt. Sit in front of a fan. This will nuke it, just don't get hypothermia and don't fall asleep like this.
Cold showers are also your friend in summer. Some people get psyched up by these. Personally, I sleep like a baby, so I'm good to have them before bed. Just keep in mind that it takes a bit of time for the cool to circulate, so your body will tell you that you're colder than you actually are. I find that when I have cold showers I need to step out of the spray when I think I'm cold... I'll just wait, and thirty seconds later the temperature has evened out and I actually need to step under again. Rinse and repeat until you maintain coolness even after stepping out for a bit.
If you can't do cold showers, turn the cold shower on anyway and just stick your arms under. When they're cold, lift your arms up above your head. The sensation of cool blood draining into your body is fucking weird and kinda unpleasant but less unpleasant than being hot.
Feet in a tub of water with ice. Blood naturally flows to your extremities when hot, so take advantage of this. If you don't have a tub of ice water, sticking a wet rag on your feet in front of the fan works too, it's the less powerful version of the wet T-shirt.
Drinks lots of water but make sure that water has electrolytes as well. Stay in the shade.
Keep air circulating. Fans don't actually cool rooms down, they just help transfer heat from your body to the moisture on your skin or the air via evaporative cooling.
Block north facing windows early in the morning so the sun doesn't get in. If you're in the northern hemisphere, this is opposite for you. Keep in mind that if your home is brick, the bricks will still heat up and slowly release heat into your home even after the sun goes down so this will only do so much.
If it's hotter inside than outside, close all your windows but two, making sure they're on opposite sides of the house/unit you're in. Point a fan out of one window, making sure that the doors between the rooms with the open windows are all open. This will help create a mini pressure system in your home, pulling cooler air in and pushing the hotter air out via the fan. Bonus points if you can get that fan high up where the hot air rises; even within a single room the top is much hotter than the air by the floor. Adjust the amount of open windows based on how many fans you have, but generally you want more windows with fans open than windows without fans to keep the pressure correct.
Obviously, use your common sense for these. Not everything WILL work for you, just use the stuff that does and adjust what needs to be adjusted. Some of these will be impossible to use in the workplace but others you can still use. Others are best used at home. If humidity impacts your ability to use any of these, get a dehumidifier if that's an option, or use more ice instead of evaporation.
Also keep in mind that the skinnier you are, the faster these will work. More fat means more insulation, means more heat, so you may need to be more patient with some of these or use them in combination.
Watching someone fluent in sign do their thing is hypnotic and beautiful. I've tried to learn sign, I know like 20 signs and the alphabet. But I'm still entranced by the fluency of their movements.
I want to understand, but like. Damn. They're beautiful.
I think I do this with spoken language too. I'm elementary school conversational in about 8 languages, but I love to listen to people talk in their native language. Expressive cursing is particularly nice to listen to, because you feel the passion of the language and the shapes of the sounds. Little to no idea what you're saying.
Watching someone fluent in sign do their thing is hypnotic and beautiful. I've tried to learn sign, I know like 20 signs and the alphabet. But I'm still entranced by the fluency of their movements.
I want to understand, but like. Damn. They're beautiful.
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More than "here in the Southern Hemisphere we have inverted seasons :)" thing, which is TECHNICALLY true, I would go a step further and encourage to think about that "much of the world does not exactly has a spring-summer-fall-winter season sequence as they show in cartoons"
I will scream about this to anyone who listens forever. AUSTRALIA DOES NOT HAVE "ENGLISH SEASONS BUT BACKWARDS" and the insistence that it does creates a massive layer of alienation from the natural world.
I never really realised how much difference it makes until I went to England and realised that here the change of seasons is an obvious, visible, physical change in the world. Like, everything REALLY IS orange and foggy in autumn! In spring there are flowers EVERYWHERE, so much more than any other season, and the trees really do have all blossom and no leaves. Even if it doesn't snow, in winter there's frost all the time and the trees are bare and the sky is visibly greyer all the time. You don't need to be told "this date is the first day of spring", you can SEE IT (although this is getting way messier and less precise due to climate change).
By contrast, most places in Australia the seasons we're taught feel like arbitrary categories - and is it any surprise considering they're colonial constructs? Orange-leaved autumn and blossom-covered spring is a cartoon stereotype with no relevance on a continent where ALL NATIVE TREES ARE EVERGREEN!! Snowy winters are a joke in the desert, and even sunny summers don't ring particularly true considering that much of the country is in the tropics, where summer means monsoons - not that I've ever seen the concept that WE HAVE A MONSOON SEASON taught at an Australian school.
Most Indigenous nations around Australia had six or more seasons, revolving around wet and dry times as much as hot and cold, and marked by the appearances of certain native animals and flowers. Schools need to start teaching the real seasons, and explaining that climate cycles are too complex to generalise globally, or else we will keep raising generations who view the natural world as hostile and unpredictable and climate predictions as generally irrelevent and frequently wrong - and I'm sure I don't need to spell out why that's a problem in the era of climate crisis.
i want to add that 40% of the world's population lives in the tropics, and the 4 season model just doesn't make much sense for a lot of places in there. usually it's just the wet season/monsoon season and the dry season. it's often hot year round.
the 4 season model as you and i know it is a european invention, though 4 season models aren't unique to europe! most notably china has the same type of season subdivision.
in general the way humans define seasons is largely subjective and varies across cultures. the one you were taught is not at all universal!
please reblog. reblog the way you would reblog a picture of a hot singer, a pretty girl, a tasty meal or some nice stationary. Because this will not make your blog ‘less aesthetic’ or anything. This is important, far more important than anything I’ve mentioned before.
Where is home, because lately every compass is spinning, every mission’s been missing, every vision I’ve trusted keeps shifting position the minute I think that I’m finally getting the picture.
Give me a sign, bubba, because I’ve been reading intentions in glitches and static, detecting significance hidden in patterns, convincing myself that persistence can fix what resistance has fractured.
They folded your existence into three cold syllables, stamped it official, clipped all the details, dismissed all the middle, and called it a finished description.
I hated that instantly. Because you weren’t a statistic.
You were contradictions and convictions, dark premonitions mixed with ambitions, bad decisions made while carrying conditions nobody could see from a distance.
That’s the distinction.
Because everybody discusses departure like absence is simple, Like once somebody vanishes physically every attachment just quietly follows and exits. But that isn't the truth of existence.
The ghost of them lingers, defying the distance.
The body goes missing.The influence stays. The chair remains empty. The imprint delays. The number stops ringing, but the memory plays, Haunting the edges of all of my days.
That’s why I’m still sifting through relics and remnants, revisiting sentences, tracing the fingerprints left in the architecture, searching for evidence hidden in residue, trying to determine what stayed and what left with you.
Maybe that’s why I’m exhausted.
Not because of mourning. Because of the sorting. The constant recording, reporting, distorting, supporting competing versions of stories while searching for something resembling accordance.
Because every coordinate opens another compartment. Every artifact starts another argument. Every recollection creates a connection that pulls me backwards before I can guard against it.
And maybe that’s the hardest admission. I wasn’t pursuing a location. I was pursuing a condition. A version of existence before all the divisions and distance and sudden omissions.
Because refuge was never an address.
It was a moment of deep recognition.
A quiet surrender from a heavy position. It was knowing certain voices could cut through the noise, And steady my world when it lost all its poise.
It was knowing certain people existed. That’s the difference.
Now every horizon feels foreign. Every shoreline feels shortened. Every route feels distorted. Every forecast feels haunted by things exquisite, Lost in a place I can never revisit.
So where is home?
Because I’ve followed the map until the pathways fractured. I’ve studied the tracks until the landmarks scattered. I’ve carried the weight until my ribcage adapted. And every road arrives at the same destination It wasn't a physical house that I sought to find, But a version of myself that I left somewhere behind.
The version who believed, without a shadow of a doubt, That those I loved would hold me when my hands reached out.
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Thank-you to all of my new Internet stranger friends for being so gracious about having my post shoved onto your dashboards. I loved reading all of your kind tags and comments! Both Martin and Bosco have been gone for several years now but for 24 hours, they felt very present in my life. I greatly appreciate this gift. ❤️
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