sarpunk:

My sleep schedule is completely broken. I’ve had less than 2 hours of sleep in the past 50-60 hours and I don’t feel at all tired. I’m curled up in bed drinking whisky, still not tired.

No, aedunn6, I did not start hallucinating.  I did a few times in college, usually when working on homework in the West Mary kitchen.  I would catch ‘movement’ and shadowy figures in my peripheral vision while working on problem sets…I knew I was just tired, but it was still annoying.

And in case you’re curious, I slept ~10pm-5am, so I haven’t made up for my “sleep deficit”, but I feel pretty awake right now.

generic-art:

5-Year-Old With Autism Paints Stunning Masterpieces 

Autism is a poorly-understood neurological disorder that can impair an individual’s ability to engage in various social interactions. But little 5-year-old Iris Grace in the UK is an excellent example of the unexpected gifts that autism can also grant – her exceptional focus and attention to detail have helped her create incredibly beautiful paintings that many of her fans (and buyers) have likened to Monet’s works.

Little Iris is slowly learning to speak, whereas most children have already begun to speak at least a few words by age 2. Along with speech therapy, her parents gradually introduced her to painting, which is when they discovered her amazing talent.

“We have been encouraging Iris to paint to help with speech therapy, joint attention and turn taking,” her mother, Arabella Carter-Johnson, explains on her website. “Then we realised that she is actually really talented and has an incredible concentration span of around 2 hours each time she paints. Her autism has created a style of painting which I have never seen in a child of her age, she has an understanding of colours and how they interact with each other.”

Much better version of the same subject matter I posted earlier.

I love her outfits and her cat.

"I feel," said Blind Io, "that if we wanted people to fly, we would have given them wings."
“We allow broomthtickth and magic carpeth,” said Offler.
“Ah, but they’re magical. Magic… religion… there is a certain association. This is an attempt to subvert the natural order. Just anyone could float around the place in one of these things.” He shuddered. “Men could look down upon the gods!”
He looked down upon Leonard of Quirm.
“Why did you do it?” he said.
“You gave me wings when you showed me birds,” said Leonard of Quirm.

That last line is so powerful.

Terry Pratchett, The Last Hero

And yet there was cement in her soul. It had been there for a while, an early morning disease of fatigue, a bleakness and borderlessness. It brought with it amorphous longings, shapeless desires, brief imaginary glints of other lives she could be living, that over the months melded into a piercing homesickness
Americanah (via acodetojoy)

acodetojoy:

when i was five, i knew what a black hole was. and i was scared of them. black holes were my first and greatest fear. i used to dream about them, dream about me “swimming” in a black abyss greater than any ever known, dream about me, there, alone. and as i grew older, i thought: what if i was locked in a room with my boggart? would i see my black hole? would it suck everything, suck it in and crush it beyond existance, crush everything to nothing (anathema to the big bang, really). do the laws of physics trump magic? i don’t know the answer: boggarts aren’t real, neither are weeping angels or lethifolds. but black holes are and they represent my most visceral and deepest fear: the unknown

I associate black holes with a different primal fear: no escape.