Zuko — Still Awkward 70 Years Later
kohlel replied to your post “So I work at a privately owned hotel, but we do have a couple of other…”
May the Force be with you. That sounds soooooo taxing.
thanks. i mean, i get free food, more money, & a free hotel stay, so that part’s nice at least
They say that “informed consent” laws violate their beliefs about scientific accuracy and bodily autonomy.
great way to start my day
He is taking a course on Marxist ideology.
He says, “The only real solution is to smash the system and start again.”
His thumb is caressing the most bourgeois copy of the communist manifesto that I have ever seen,
He bought it at Barnes and Noble for twenty-nine U.S. American dollars and ninety-nine cents,
Its hard cover shows a dark man with a scarved face
Waving a gigantic red flag against a fictional smoky background.
The matte finish is fucking gorgeous.
He wants to be congratulated for paying Harvard sixty thousand dollars
To teach him that the system is unfair.
He pulls his iPhone from his imported Marino wool jacket, and leaves.
What people can’t possibly tell from the footage on TV
Is that the water cannon feels like getting whipped with a burning switch.
Where I come from, they fill it with sewer water and hope that they get you in the face with your mouth open
So that the hepatitis will keep you in bed for the next protest.
What you can’t tell from Harvard square,
Is that when the tear gas bursts from nowhere to everywhere all at once,
It scrapes your insides like barbed wire, sawing at your lungs.
Tear gas is such a benign term for it,
If you have never breathed it in you would think it was a nostalgic experience.
What you can’t learn at Barnes and Noble,
Is that when they rush you, survival is to run,
I am never as fast as when the police are chasing me.
I know what happens to women in the holding cells down there and yet…
We still do it.
I inherited my communist manifesto,
It has no cover—
Because my mother ripped it off when she hid it in the dust jacket of “Don Quixote”
The day before the soldiers destroyed her apartment,
Looking for subversive propaganda.
She burned the cover, could not bring herself to burn the pages,
Hoped to God the soldiers couldn’t read,
They never found it.
So she was not killed for it, but her body bore the scars of the torture chamber,
For wanting her children to have a better life than she did,
Don’t talk to me about revolution.
I know what the price of smashing the system really is, my people already tried that.
The price of uprise is paid in blood,
And not Harvard blood.
The blood that ran through the streets of Santiago,
The blood thrown alive from Argentine helicopters into the Atlantic.
It is easy to say “revolution” from the comfort of a New England library.
It is easy to offer flesh to the cause,
When it is not yours to give.
it hits at strange times.
sitting in the booth,
surrounded by people i love,
i fade away.
i excuse myself,
hurry to the restroom,
lock the door,
lean on the sink.
stare at my cheekbone,
crack my knuckles,
touch my collarbone,
bite my lip.
there are bones,
there is blood,
coursing under this skin.
i feel the cold porcelain
under my palms.
nerves on fire,
heart beating fast,
and i know this is me.
i know this is me,
but it isn’t,
Rachel Thompson, this body is not my home
LA, FINALS: BELISSA ESCABEDO+RHIANNON MCGAVIN, “KNOCK KNOCK”
So I work at a privately owned hotel, but we do have a couple of other locations. At the nearest one - about 90 minutes from here - the front desk manager walked out last week. Just up and left.
So now this week, from Tuesday til Saturday, I’ll be working up there. Free hotel room and free food, plus extra pay, which is nice. But I’m leaving at 10:30 am after working audit all night, because I’m going up with my boss (she has a meeting there anyway, and I still don’t have the money for a new car).
Basically what I’m saying is I’m hardly staying awake now, i dunno what I’ll do tomorrow. Oh, and I’ll be working 7-3 every day, completely throwing off my schedule. ughh
there is never a list…sorry.
Jeremy Knowles, discussing the complete lack of recognition Cecilia Payne gets, even today, for her revolutionary discovery. (via alliterate)
OH WAIT LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT CECILIA PAYNE.
Cecilia Payne’s mother refused to spend money on her college education, so she won a scholarship to Cambridge.
Cecilia Payne completed her studies, but Cambridge wouldn’t give her a degree because she was a woman, so she said fuck that and moved to the United States to work at Harvard.
Cecilia Payne was the first person ever to earn a Ph.D. in astronomy from Radcliffe College, with what Otto Strauve called “the most brilliant Ph.D. thesis ever written in astronomy.”
Not only did Cecilia Payne discover what the universe is made of, she also discovered what the sun is made of (Henry Norris Russell, a fellow astronomer, is usually given credit for discovering that the sun’s composition is different from the Earth’s, but he came to his conclusions four years later than Payne—after telling her not to publish).
Cecilia Payne is the reason we know basically anything about variable stars (stars whose brightness as seen from earth fluctuates). Literally every other study on variable stars is based on her work.
Cecilia Payne was the first woman to be promoted to full professor from within Harvard, and is often credited with breaking the glass ceiling for women in the Harvard science department and in astronomy, as well as inspiring entire generations of women to take up science.
Cecilia Payne is awesome and everyone should know her.