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Kiana Khansmith
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oozey mess
h

Origami Around
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Xuebing Du
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
One Nice Bug Per Day
Keni
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
NASA
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
noise dept.
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@moonbeam-manic
daily clicks for palestine
donate to feed refugees in rafah
spreadsheet of gofundmes to evacuate families
fundraiser for esims for gaza
orgs to donate to

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Cuprite, Milpillas, Sonora, Mexico, photo by Valar Minerals
literally makes no sense that poor ppl are passing around the same $20 to eachother meanwhile millionaires & billionaires are sitting on their asses or telling us to donate to causes that they could solves with their own money and still have enough left over to live comfortably.

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Today I learned that cuttlefish experience REM sleep, and that it makes their skin flash random colors. This is the cutest thing ever.
The electric eel at my aquarium has a voltmeter attached to his tank, and whenever he pumps out a burst of electricityβeither when heβs navigating his tank or getting fedβthe meter lights up and makes noise. Sometimes, Iβll walk past him when heβs snuggled up and totally motionless on his log, and see the voltmeter going crazy.
I am left to assume that he is dreaming, and is sleep-zapping at the things in his dreams.
I am absolutely delighted to learn that electric eels dream of kicking ass.
Sobbing ofnfjfkfklg
i've decided i'm going to learn more about yellow-headed blackbirds than anyone else. this is a strange and almost juvenile-sounding goal but no one seems particularly interested in studying them. if you try to search for information on them or certain behaviors you get the generic field mark and blurb guides, a few paywalled academic articles, and... posts by me, funnily enough. i just made a separate blog for my bird photography, but expect another at some point specifically focused on my documenting the colony of these birds that i now visit weekly.
i'm not a spiritual person, nor do i believe in the prophetic power of dreams, but i do think they serve as important windows into our fears and motivations and i think it says something that the only time i have actively photographed a bird in my dreams it was indeed a yellow-headed blackbird.
look at my blackbirds boy
the more i read about these birds the more insane i feel. i think the isolation of this tiny marsh might actually be doing some galapagos shit to the blackbirds there because everything from their vocalizations to their nesting habits completely eschews known data.
did you know that they are capable of imitation? don't worry! apparently no one else does either, but i have personally overheard them doing terrible approximations of not only red-winged blackbird songs, but also rooster crowing, ring-necked pheasant squawking, and what i now believe to be an eastern meadowlark song (which i have captured on video, something about which no one gave a fuck!!)
they are supposed to be drawn to marshes with deep water, over which multiple females will weave nests in single male controlled territories of typically 1k to 6ksqft. the waters of this marsh are wading depth, and the males control micro-territories of what cannot be more than 500sqft each-- territories that they share neutrally with marsh wrens.
this marsh is the last surviving 50 acre oasis of wetland in what used to be hundreds of miles of it, now turned into farmland. yellow headed blackbirds have been migrating across this continent for over 100,000 years according to fossil records. how does one compromise with their instincts telling them to travel a specific, ancestral route that looks and feels nothing like what their genetic memory tells them? they adapt, or they disappear, and a bird like this could never accept silence. i don't think.
I don't know how or why, but sometimes a species reaches out to you to be its caretaker and you just gotta answer the call.
Everything about this is delightful, I'm so happy for and impressed by OP, adopting an entire colony of birds and sharing them with us all. Which makes my personal revelation here feel silly in comparison, but you just solved a mystery for me.
Recently I found a big cheap "canvas" print at the thrift store, the sort of thing that's mass produced to look good in online listing but is noticeably cheap in person. But I loved the colors and the anatomy was surprisingly good, so it came home with me. At a glance it seemed to be an oriole with questionable fidelity, bafflingly posed on some cattails. I didn't think much of it, birds in art are full of bad anatomy and species all smushed together. At least it isn't a macaw with a crest. But as soon as I saw the photos here, I realized it's actually extremely species accurate, I just didn't know this was a species to consider
Thanks OP I love my yelling bird even more now
who else up hurkleing their durkleing

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Also, noone asked for it, but my thoughts on the supreme court's ruling of trans women being banned in women's sports:
1. All sports should be coed and it's an insult to women to have them separated by gender
2. Trans women are women. If you, as a cis woman, get beat by a trans woman in a sport, it's because you did worse at it.
3. I know 2 can be hard to swallow, but as a 5'1 woman in contact sports my whole life: you either adapt and figure out how to make your own advantage, or you lose.
4. Losing happens and makes you a better player for it. If you're a cis woman who lost a game to a trans woman - it's an opportunity to be a better player. I encounter cis women significantly taller and faster than me with more muscle mass all the time. If you say you're losing to someone because of different muscle frame - you need to get creative or practice more.
5. We're worse off for this stupid ass ruling. It just adds to the placating, " oh women can't do what men can do and need separate easier settings," bullshit.
6. Every method of physically inspecting a personβs sex is invasive. Blood tests? Physically invasive. Medical records check? Invasive of privacy. Genital exam? Both, and also rude.
7. Excluding a category of people from a massive form of entertainment and vocation because of an innate factor like skin color would obviously be wrong. We donβt DO that. (And besides, gender is a protected category) So excluding transgender people from sports because of an innate factor like their gender, and the fact that it doesnβt match their assigned gender at birth, is wrong as well.
Letβs have technical difficulties with mama
waaaay back when I was a cashier in retail we would talk about dumb shit while unloading the truck, and we got to the "what would you do in a zombie apocalypse" me and another worker were like yeah we would just die. End it all, we can't fight or run or shit. I refuse to put that much effort into survival.
And my manager was like no!!!! If that happened, I would drive to find you guys in my truck and we could eat stuff from my wife's garden and I would make sure everyone I know survived!! I would carry you all on my shoulders away from the zombies!!
Anyway, random shout out to that guy. You were too kind for retail management, Devin.
also afterwards everyone who was talking about their cool bunker fantasies were like "Damn, Devin's right, we should also be considering helping people around us." which is the only recorded instance of a retail shift making people better human beings.

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sorry im not giving into the cutting out sweet treats propaganda. life is hard enough
hello. is this thing on. everybody should start naming their years, it's a sort of tradition in my family and it's always spot on, though often we understand the errors of our choice when the year is over and you learned a new facet about your word. my mom severely regretted choosing victory one year β many a battle was fought and she arrived at the end of it battered, bloodied and among metaphorical piles of corpses. Victory can be bitter.
For 2024, I had named it the year of honey, thinking myself very clever. I did not call it honeyed, sweet, bathed in delight, no: it was the year of honey. I suppose I forgot to ask myself who made the honey, and why, and how. Honey indeed... for others, not me, the defeated worker bee who dropped dead at the end of summer after putting her life force into spoils others would enjoy.
I didn't notice, but I didn't set a name for 2025, too worried about my immediate survival. I'll think long and hard about what I want to bring forth, and try to be strong enough to bear the weight of what I want... I invite you to do the same and set it on New Year's Eve, if that calls to you.