you can’t take loved away

I love thinking about “lost episode” creepypastas from a production pipeline POV. I wanna be the guy who gets handed a script about a main character brutally dying with no actual plot and is like “Yeah sure. Greenlighted.”

so ummm welcome to my jar:) lemme show you around! theres some holes poked in the top so i can breathe, theres some leaves to munch on, and ive even got a twig! #mytwig

"You snooze you lose" anti nap propaganda, changing it to "you snooze yaaaaayyyyyy yippeeeee"

me after a minor inconvenience: i hope i get hit by a [remembers i’m anti car-centric infrastructure] pedestrian

(flirting) i could be your problem

fiction can be really dangerous there might be a deeply tragic woman in there who starts living in your head forever

What would you do if you were scrolling through recommended tumblr posts and one was from someone you don't know and it was just a picture of your dad captioned "fucking hate this guy" and it had hundreds of notes

reblog it

6 hour workday maximum i’m not kidding, if it can’t be done in that timeframe it doesn’t need doing.

this doesn't apply to jobs like childcare

If i worked in childcare and my 6 hours were up i would start putting babies in ziploc bags and shipping them to Turkmenistan listed as endangered fruits and vegetables

Sorry we really went from free the nipple, take back the night, slut walks, and ending gender/sex segregation in sports being fucking milquetoast feminism 101 concepts to fucking girl dinner and "I just worry about fairness if we let trans girls play against cis ones" and "it was right of that woman to call the cops on a black man for existing near here in public during the day time because men are all violent monsters" and "radical feminism isn't transphobic we just need to kill all men including trans ones those oppressive traitors" and I will legit never be able to be normal about it. What the FUCK happened. I'd say I wonder what the feminists of my youth would say about this but I'm one and lemme tell ya I want to throw up. Go fucking read bell hooks or do something else useful please because all of this learned helplessness, gender essentialism, and transphobia dressed up as feminism is actively holding us back.

I worry a little bit that people who refuse to learn about ai as a part of their anti ai position are going to be extremely unprepared to understand what’s actually scary about it and already have their digital literacy at risk tbh

not that I am some genius in this regard but if you follow ai developments even slightly you might change the things you are most worried about. do people know the extent to which ai is already eating itself and how meaningless this is making swaths of the internet. do people know that there are plenty of random mid-sized companies today buying their employees’ likenesses to create digital clones and using these to make hundreds of videos. I am so much more worried about labor and surveillance and abuse than people becoming lazy about writing emails. and idk man I sort of like and respect people who are willfully ignorant about it as a way of minimizing its force in their lives and I am in some ways jealous but also when I see posts that basically still boil down to “chatgpt will never fool me” I am like 😭😭😭 for one thing not the only thing to be concerned about, for another thing I am really sorry but I don’t think you’re right

I am chronically online but not in a way that keeps me informed #mybubble

Spotify Premium ad: “Imagine playing music without interruptions! Infinite skipping! Replay the song you want! And even do it offline? No ads! Whatever songs you want! For a small monthly payme-” Me: *nods, turns off Spotify and turns on my MP3 player and does all the things they offer, but for free and with songs they don’t even have*

You can also rip audio files from youtube and find files all over the internet. It is far easier to come across great and lesser known music if you dont limit yourself to spotify.

There’s an emotion only unlocked when you live in a house with multiple stories. I call it “the stair emotion” and it’s when you realize the object you need is on the other side of yet another trip up and down those goddamn stairs. It’s the closest I get to transcending the desire for material goods. Maybe I don’t need that notebook. Maybe I don’t need anything.

who up momenting they mori