being in academia is kind of like where you're on everest and you see the frozen bodies of the other people who've tried it strewn about everywhere and you think "okay, but that's them and i'm me"
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@chaoticxaesthete
being in academia is kind of like where you're on everest and you see the frozen bodies of the other people who've tried it strewn about everywhere and you think "okay, but that's them and i'm me"

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I absolutely adore that kind of intimacy when they come home exhausted, see you sitting there and just drop to their knees, head in your lap, arms around you like you're the only thing keeping them together.
No words, no grand gestures, just that quiet "I'm home" in the way they hold you.
the more comfortable we become with being stupid, the deeper we will wade into the unknown, and the more likely we are to make big discoveries 🪐
nothing i do will save me from this terrible defect of mine — i give up on myself all the time but never on the things that hurt me

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\\ TW: DEATH //
i've been wanting to vent out for so long now. it's been a week since i saw the dreaded headline about Liam Payne, and it's been a bad emotional low since then. i spent my teens listening to One Direction apart from other artists and have always loved Liam. i've listened to their band albums and their solo albums. never once did i fathom i'd be mourning the death of a 1D member this early. never once did i imagine this would be the reunion we were wanting badly. it got me thinking about how i'd react to such news about other artists who've had an impact in my developing ages; Justin Bieber, Halsey, and BTS. i might just shut down for a while if the scenario arises.
if you're mourning Liam's death right now, please take your time and grieve. you're grieving the death of that young boy full of dreams and hope, who made people happy with music.
fly high Payno. you'll always live in our hearts. thank you for everything. 💔🥀🕊
“In our busy and distracted society, deep reading is increasingly rare. Deep reading changes people. When you interact with people, you can tell who reads seriously and who doesn’t. This isn’t just a matter of mental ability or intelligence. There is a difference between raw cognitive horsepower and time spent immersed in complex and intricate ideas. You can tell the difference between a smart person who reads and a smart person who doesn’t by how they express ideas, the references they make, and the chains of logic they follow. The former often demonstrates a subtle understanding that weaves together insights from various domains. The latter, though sharp and quick-minded, lacks the same depth of perspective or the ability to see beyond the immediate conversation or the Current Thing. This is becoming increasingly apparent among obviously bright young adults who don’t read or read nonsense despite paying large sums of money for what should have been a decent education.”
— How I Read - Rob Henderson’s Newsletter
there’s a line i read once, by an Egyptian poet whose name i cannot remember: that a diary’s function is not to show you who you are, but who it is you have ceased to be. i think that's one of the worst kinds of reminders a person could have. you write things down, maybe because things have gotten too heavy or because you wanted to get a perspective. that's dangerous because instead of accepting the circumstances, you could spiral down again, thinking of all the 'what ifs' and 'whys'. instead of acknowledging you did whatever you could with the mind space you had at that time, you begin to mourn the frame of mind you didn't have. even if you burn the diary, you won't know peace until you burn it from within yourself.

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how do you learn to accept that someone loves you unconditionally? and by unconditionally, i mean that the person has seen you in your bad times and yet chose to stay by you. how do you unwire your brain to believe that it deserves love in calm and chaos? how do you allow another person into your fortress of solitude without being suffocated?
"my alone feels so good, ill only have you if you're sweeter than my solitude" - warsan shire
mother night, kurt vonnegut
researching for a phd paper really is just thinking "why isn't there more research about this" and then realising that it's you. you're doing the research
home. its such a comforting yet terrifying word. something makes you feel at home because it resonates with you somehow. you could feel like home to people because you're a mosaic of all the parts of the people in your life. anyone that meets you chooses a part of you that makes them feel at home. only a few might choose you as home.
but what about you? will you choose a part from the mosaic that you are, or will you accept your whole self as home? can you feel at home without any ominous thoughts like, 'what if it crumbles?' do you even have a home?
can you ever choose yourself as your comfort place?
- Evelyn Waugh, from Brideshead Revisited (1945)

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why is heart associated with feelings and emotions even though it is brain who releases all the chemicals related to it ? the increased heartbeat and all, it is all the doing of brain but then why heart is present in all love poems?
I think it’s because we tend to feel emotions predominantly in our chest . Sadness feels like a hollowness, anger is constricting, happiness feels like soaring etc . Feelings in general aren’t very logical and so we’ve separated it from a part of our body that’s “supposed” to be logical. Our brains might say one thing but our feelings could so starkly contradict it- it feels only right to blame all of humans irrationality on an entirely different organ .
Also a lot of poems are more metaphorical than literal, so that probably plays a big role in why things are the way they are
Here’s an interesting take I found online
"Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against losing control - of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.”
Elana Dykewomon, "Notes for a Magazine," Sinister Wisdom #36 (Winter 1988/89).