In just a few hours, new policies will take effect at Google, endangering your privacy.
Tech publication Gizmodo reports, “things you could do in relative anonymity today [like your web searches], will be explicitly associated with your name, your face, your phone number come March 1st.” And this applies retro-actively if you don’t act today.
The reblogs on the chubby ballerina picture have got me sad. Lots of talk of how she’s a REAL woman and she’s better than any skinny ballerina. Body positivity, you’re doin’ it wrong.
The point isn’t that she’s better, it’s that her body isn’t a factor in how good she is or how “real” she is. We have a still photograph, so we don’t even know how good she is. All we can say is that she isn’t worse based on her body. A good ballet dancer is a good ballet dancer no matter what she looks like, fat or skinny. And while we’re all entitled to our preferences about which we find more attractive, no one is objectively better or worse.
Appreciating one person doesn’t require insulting someone else. Cut it out.
Anonymous asked: I don’t really know what you’re trying to prove by saying Nick and Dave were one and the same at one point since that was kind of the point of that whole sequence anyway. The big and important difference between these characters is the viewer is never going to know Nick the way the viewer intimately now knows the struggles that Dave is feeling as a suicidal gay youth.
The big thing that has been thrown around is that Karofsky needs COMPASSION and FORGIVENESS. Any discussion of how Karofsky needs to GTFO or how horrid his actions were/are were met routinely with arguments that placed the blame back on Kurt/minimized his actions/and justified them with the reasoning that: he’s in pain and lashing out.
Well, fucking duh you know?
Personally, I only follow a select few people in the glee fandom simply because the majority seems to like to engage in the most petty bullshit debates imaginable so I don’t doubt there are people out there who will use Dave’s struggle to minimize his actions towards Kurt which were obviously bad enough to warrant a change in schools. Dave was an asshole to Kurt that is unquestionable and even Dave can admit that. My argument is that people do not stay the same. I am not the same person I was last month, or last year, or five years ago. People change, for better or for worse, and if I see someone who is trying to make a change for the better, my first response is not to tell them they were an asshole for a few months so they are incapable of ever being better people worthy of love and compassion. It’s not that Dave is entitled to compassion and love (which I feel you think many of his supporters are trying to argue) but that he is capable of earning that compassion and love through his steps toward becoming a better person.
Also, I think putting Kurt’s guilt re: Karofsky as being the usual for survivors (it is) is giving this show far too much credit. Kurt’s behavior toward Karofsky in this episode and the way the narrative handled these issues was so hamfisted that I cannot trust the narrative to have that much nuance. Since they tied it to Kurt’s conversation with him in “Heart” and the 9 phone calls etc it came off far more like Kurt feeling an obligation to someone after he rejected him rather than what it should have been.
You are totally welcome to that interpretation but, for me, the way that Chris treated those scenes was a lot more personal than just some obligation. It was deeper than that. The glee writers are notorious for their hamfisted plotlines but the acting, Chris’s acting specifically, spoke volumes for the depth of grief Kurt was experiencing.
“You have had many sadnesses, large ones, which passed. And you say that even this passing was difficult and upsetting for you. But please, ask yourself whether these large sadnesses haven’t rather gone right through you. Perhaps many things inside you have been transformed; perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad. … If only it were possible for us to see farther than our knowledge reaches, and even a little beyond the outworks of our presentiment, perhaps we would bear our sadnesses with greater trust than we have in our joys. For they are the moments when something new has entered us, something unknown; our feelings grow mute in shy embarrassment, everything in us withdraws, a silence arises, and the new experience, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it all and says nothing.”—Rainer Maria Rilke, from Letters to a Young Poet, translated by S. Mitchell (via growing-orbits)
Do you remember when we met in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless, and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing you, when we were young, and blushed with youth like bruised fruit. Did we care then what our neighbors did in the dark?
When our first daughter was born on the River Jordan, when our second cracked her pink head from my body like a promise, did we worry what our friends might be doing with their tongues?
What new crevices they found to lick love into or strange flesh to push pleasure from, when we called them Sodomites then, all we meant by it was neighbor.
When the angels told us to run from the city, I went with you, but even the angels knew that women always look back. Let me describe for you, Lot, what your city looked like burning since you never turned around to see it.
Sulfur ran its sticky fingers over the skin of our countrymen. It smelled like burning hair and rancid eggs. I watched as our friends pulled chunks of brimstone from their faces. Is any form of loving this indecent?
Cover your eyes tight, husband, until you see stars, convince yourself you are looking at Heaven.
Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god.
I would say these things to you now, Lot, but an ocean has dried itself on my tongue. So instead I will stand here, while my body blows itself grain by grain back over the Land of Canaan. I will stand here and I will watch you run.
“Baldini stood up. He opened the jalousie and his body was bathed to the knees in the sunset, caught fire like a burnt-out torch glimmering low. He saw the deep red rim of the sun behind the Louvre and the softer fire across the slate roofs of the city. On the river shining like gold below him, the ships had disappeared. And a wind must have come up, for gusts were serrating the surface, and it glittered now here, now there, moving ever closer, as if a giant hand were scattering millions of louis d’or over the water. For a moment it seemed the direction of the river had changed: it was flowing Baldini, a shimmering flood of pure gold. Baldini’s eyes were moist and sad. He stood there motionless for a long time gazing at the splendid scene. Fresh air streamed into the room. Baldini gulped for breath. Then he closed the window. At almost the same moment, night fell, very suddenly. The view of a glistening golden city and river turned into a rigid, ashen grey silhouette. Inside the room, all at once it was dark.”—Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. (via madeofglass-)
“For people could close their eyes to greatness, to horrors, to beauty, and their ears to melodies or decieving words. But they could not escape scent. For scent was a brother of breath. Together with breath it entered human beings, who could not defend themselves against it, not if they wanted to live. And scent entered into their very core, went directly to their hearts, and decided for good and all between affection and contempt, disgust and lust, love and hate. He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.”—Perfume: the Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind (via thechocolatebrigade)