we’re taking a group of people who have insider knowledge of the English language (or at least a good grasp of it) and placing them in a new, unfamiliar, virtual space. This space introduces visual aids to language in the form of photos and gifs, the ability to comment on someone else’s text in a reblog and the ability to communicate a lot of information in very few words using hashtags. We also see the creation of tone in a toneless medium. In order to simulate conversational patterns in writing we SHOUT WHEN WE’RE SUPER EXCITED or *psssst whisper when we’re pretending to tell someone a secret while perfectly aware that anyone on the internet can read what we’re saying.* slash the coolest bit tho is that u can like ironically forgo all capitalization and punctuation just write in a weird speech pattern its ok everyone will still understand maybe it even helps read the text more quickly because nothing is interrupting the flow of words
In short, this dialect results when people who already share a language are given new tools. The result isn’t a butchering of English language but a creative experiment with it. Am I claiming that the Internet as a whole is operating on a level of postmodernism that would make Joseph Heller, Kurt Vonnegut and Thomas Pynchon seem like novices? maybe i am maybe im not u punk wut of it like who r u to tell me otherwise
Tia Baheri: “Your Ability to Can Even: A Defense of Internet Linguistics" | The Toast
Totally worth reading the whole article, especially the part on Tumblr and gender.
Internet linguistics is super fascinating to me.
This whole article is absolutely fascinating. As someone who is older than the average tumblr user, and someone who can be a bit of a grammar freak, it took me a long time to get used to the Tumblrisms, but now I find them incredibly useful.
“it took me a long time to get used to the Tumblrisms, but now I find them incredibly useful.” Same. All the internet speak that people my age usually malign, I find flexible and expressive and important.
Some people especially don’t like the term “feels” but I find it really helpful. “Feels” are not “emotions”. Emotions are specific, partitioned states. Feels are the simultaneous experience of all emotions (including emotions that would usually be framed as neutralizing one another if occurring simultaneously—happy/sad—but which often amplify each other instead) that are presently occurring as an immediate or on-going reaction to an inciting incident (image, movie, etc.). “All my feels” is a way to express both the totality and the immensity of those emotions being experienced.
Following that, “right in the feels” is how to express that a secondary inciting incident has occurred which, like one molecule in motion intersecting with another molecule in motion, has effected an impact and a temporary or permanent change in state/velocity/trajectory of the total-state of emotions affecting the speaker and, if the impact is strong enough, may permanently alter the composition of the feels in question.
How damn cool is it to be able to sum up both the initial concept and the experience—with a gif (a tiny movie that, like a hologram, contains the whole of the original as well as the subcultural context around that movie and that scene and that character), no less?
i was going to text lauren and ask if she wanted to see winter soldier this weekend but i realized i had to ask my dad first
You know you can always go see it twice
DIY Cat Toe Shoes
Materials needed: Shoes (preferably plain with a round-toe and enough room at the front for a cap-toe effect), black paint, brushes, masking tape, white paint and a white marker pen if you don’t have a very steady hand with a brush.
First, tape off the tops of the shoes. Really press hard on the tape so that none of your paint will seep through.
Paint the tops of the shoes black. I did three coats to get a really opaque color but I also wasn’t using the best acrylic paint lol. If you’re using a quality brand name paint one coat should do the trick!
When the paint is dry, peel off the tape and add little triangles for ears. You can use painters tape for this too if you aren’t good with freehand.
For the eyes, I put a straight-pin in the eraser of a pencil to make a little dotting tool! Dip this lightly in the white paint, and add your eyes. If you mess up, you can always paint over it with black and try again :) To make my cats have some more character, I went back and added a second little black dot in the corner of the white to give the illusion that the cats are looking off to the side.
Using an opaque white paint marker — or a fine brush and white paint — add whiskers and a nose!
And voilà! Pretty little cat toe shoes. If you want a more subtle cat look, you can always skip the face and just have the ears, which would be cute too! You can also play around with the colors and maybe even paint a tail on the back of the shoe!
All by ©Scathingly Brilliant
|—||The Myth of Working Your Way Through College - Svati Kirsten Narula - The Atlantic (via infoneer-pulse)|
CATS ARE FUCKIN WEIRD
don’t pretend you wouldn’t stretch like this if you had the flexibility
kitten riding cat
OMG the exasperated mother expression is the same in any species at all.
Okay I know the time frame totally doesn’t work but- Imagine Draco Malfoy getting all puffed up and arrogant and starting to say “I don’t think my father-” and Harry slyly interjecting “-the inventor of toaster strudel-” “-would be too happy to-” and then stopping in confusion when Harry, Hermione, and every other Muggleborn in earshot start practically crying with laughter.
When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.
Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”
When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.
Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”
I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.
She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”
“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”
He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”
Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”
When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”
Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”
Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.
He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.
Here is a fact: I think gender is a social construct and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and am the same gender as my sex, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.
Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.
One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.
I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”
Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.
It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.
It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.
It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.
There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.
I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.
By telling the oppressed that their anger is unjustified, you allow the oppression to continue. I know it’s hard to stay calm. I know it’s scary. But you’re coming from the safe place and they aren’t. Just please … Try to be more understanding. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
EVERYBODY READ THIS. RIGHT NOW.
Don’t forget the fear. Anger is easier than fear.
FUCKING THANK YOU!