Hi, I'm Amy, AKA Rockinlibrarian. I have to change the links in this description. How did I have them linked before, anyway? Here's my actual personal blog: http://rockinlibrarian.dreamwidth.org/ Here's where I write more professionally for GeekMom: https://geekdad.com/author/amy-weir/ Here's where I tweet: https://twitter.com/rockinlibrarian
But here on Tumblr I don't really post anything original, I just reblog stuff that makes me smile.
I picked this theme because it's called "Bus Full of Hippies" and has flowers, and that should sum it up.
With ADHD, our behavior often gets misinterpreted. What looks like me sitting motionless on the couch is often a deep frustration and inability to get up on the inside. This is part 3 of the ADHD & hurtful assumptions series!
Not everyone with ADHD struggles with the same things on the same level and not every problem will have the same causes. But if anything of this feels too close to home for you, I hope this will help you communicate with others!
MARVELTVAPPRECIATIONWEEK ♥ Day 3: Favourite friendship ☂PeggyCarter&EdwinJarvis “Miss Carter, I’ve read your war record. You are a credit to your profession. If the men in your office can’t see that, then they’re fools. You were trying to do something good, and I believe you accomplished it.”
Yo. Many of you need to take an entire stadium of seats. Like a football arena in Texas number.
I coined neurodivergent before tumblr was even a thing, like a decade or more ago, because people were using ‘neurodiverse’ and ‘neurodiversity’ to just mean autistic, & possibly LDs. But there’s more, like way more, ways a person can have a different yet fucking perfect dammit brain.
Neurodivergent refers to neurologically divergent from typical. That’s ALL.
I am multiply neurodivergent: I’m Autistic, epileptic, have PTSD, have cluster headaches, have a chiari malformation.
Neurodivergent just means a brain that diverges.
Autistic people. ADHD people. People with learning disabilities. Epileptic people. People with mental illnesses. People with MS or Parkinsons or apraxia or cerebral palsy or dyspraxia or no specific diagnosis but wonky lateralization or something.
That is all it means. It is not another damn tool of exclusion. It is specifically a tool of inclusion. If you don’t want to be associated with Those People, then YOU are the one who needs another word. Neurodivergent is for all of us.
Annoyedly yours,
Neurodivergent K of Radical Neurodivergence Speaking
hello! I don’t know if anyone has already made a post about this before, but I just stumbled upon this app made specifically for when you’ve gone into a nonverbal anxiety attack!!!
it was made by Jeroen De Busser who is an autistic computer science student.
the app is really easy to use! all you do is open it and hand your phone to someone you need to communicate with during an attack but physically cannot, and it shows this cool little alert for the person to read, and then it takes them to an easy to use chat (that looks a lot like texting! except both of you are communicating using the same device).
the alert message is completely customizable and you can have it say whatever you need!
the app is called Emergency Chat and it’s available in the Apple Store and google play store.
I highly recommend it to anyone who might need it :)
OH MY GOD?!?!?? BOOST
That’s so bootiful!
thank you so much for this because i never know what to do when i cant talk to people and they just start trying to ask me questions and its really hard to force myself to say i cant talk and stuff. im definately getting this right now
WHAT?
Also this app can be used for WAY more than nonverbal meltdowns! Its great for all sorts of things. Of you’re deaf, have asthma, dissociation, panic attacks, if you’re mute, if you have any other medical or mental problems that make verbal communication difficult or imposible!
Sometimes I go semi-verbal and I’m definitely going to download this app to use for when tht happens. This is an amazing idea! Wish I had heard of it sooner.
Hey, I just wanted to tell you that your Young Wizards books were what got me interested in reading when I was a kid. I don't think I would have ever read as much as I did if I didn't stumble onto them when I was ten or eleven. A few days ago I finished my first novel. I didn't even know you were on tumblr or like, accessible by a peon like me, but I wanted to say thank you. Your stories have been really influential to me and I appreciate you a lot. My favorite is probably Wizard's Holiday.
:) Thank you SO MUCH for letting me know about this.
…All of us have days when (despite how busy we are, working or whatever) we lean back at some point and rest our heads on the chair behind us and let out one of those little breaths that sound like a moan, and say, under our breath, “What. Even. Is. the POINT.” Because we wonder whether our work makes the slightest damn difference whatsoever.
So (as this has been one of those days, for no readily discernibly reason) THANK you for letting me know. :)
(Now, of course, there’s another part of my brain, the Routine Cynicism Dep’t, that’s saying, “Oh yeah, you should congratulate yourself now, by all means, for dropping someone else into the same lava flow where you’ve been thrashing around for forty years.” …Yet the sensible response is: “I didn’t hold a gun to your head and make you do that.” [helpless laughter] …Reading made you do that. I am no better than an accessory to the crime… if reading and writing are a crime. The jury—even among readers, depending on whether they like what you did last—is out.)
I can only congratulate you (in a wry and helpless way) on your entry into the damndest line of work there ever was. (For certain values of “work”. You may not want to make money at it, but you’re a laborer in this vineyard now, poor baby…) You get to do this work in between all the other (theoretically) more worthwhile things you could be doing. If you don’t already know, you’ll soon find out: It pays badly. As a writer, you will be on the hustle all your working life. You will discover that working harder does not necessarily guarantee you a better result. (Though working less may sometimes produce a better one… if your brain needed more twisting out of shape.) You will also discover that actually producing a better result does nothing to improve your quality of life. And as a side effect: you’ll discover that if you had an “honest job” shoveling shit or some such, your relatives would/will give you less grief. If you decide to make this line of work your career, you will spend the rest of your life, on and off, trying to convince those around you that it’s worth something.
Yet you’ll always know it is. You have a superpower: the ability to get into other people’s brains, and (for good or ill) to cause them to see the world the way you’re seeing it. Use this power wisely, for (as Stan Lee had our mutual young friend say) “With great power comes great responsibility”, and you must always think about how people’s view into your mindset can be caused to be of use to them: and to be of good use. (You are, naturally, always allowed to have FUN doing this. Jeez but what kind of world would it be otherwise. Joy is a powerful aid to communication. Never be afraid to have fun while doing the Work.)
So: Go forward. Go boldly. Fear nothing. Tell your truth, and shame the Devil. Your readers will thank you.
Also: (a) You are nobody’s peon. Of all of us laboring in this vineyard together, some of our backs have more years’ weight shaping their vertebrae: but that’s all. (b) Some of the best work writers get done is on holiday. The same with wizards. :)
I love this.
Also, DD, I totally just told a friend this morning that yours is my favorite magic system in fiction. If only every nice thing a person says about an artist’s work could be heard by the artist all the time!
Writer: So They Spooned All Night And The Brooding One Allowed Themselves To Feel Vulnerable For The First Time In Years And The Chirpy One Got Some Quality Snuggles
Fluff fans: *GASP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*
Alternatively:
There was only one bed and so they lay there together, only inches apart physically but it may as well have been miles for neither could muster the courage to tell the other the true depth of their feelings and so they lay there sleepless in their mutual pining
There was only one bed. A carried B to it and gently eased them down. They were both badly injured but B’s conditions were much worse and A wouldn’t rest until they knew B was going to be alright. So A sat down next to B and brushed their hair back, holding their hand as B shivered through the night, their only comfort A’s presence by their side.
How many different ways can you write this one trope.
There was only one bed, but instead of making a big fuss, the tired pair went the fuck to sleep and got a full 8 hours.
My sleep deprived ass:
OH YEAH THAT’S THE GOOD STUFF
😹😹😹
There was only one bed. This is normal. They’ve been married for a decade and have a small child. The child has climbed in bed to snuggle with them because thunder is scary. They have their baby curled between them and they share soft, warm smiles over his sleepy head as he snores little kid snores.
Me, who just wants domestic curtains found family fic:
There was only one bed, the two characters argued and bickered begging for them not to have to share it, but they somehow are here still. They agree that there both going to pick a side and stay on it. This was going fine until in the middle of the night A woke up screaming and crying, B gets them to calm down and they end up falling asleep next to each other feeling safe
There was only one bed. A noticed B’s exhaustion and lifted them easily. “You don’t have to carry me like a child,” B noted, despite being clearly pleased by how matters were progressing. “I think we both know that’s not true,” A replied with a grin. The bed was warm, inviting, and yet something was missing. “Is this a private party, or can just anyone join,” C called from the doorway, clad only in their underwear and a smile. “Only if it’s you!” A and B replied in unison as they drew the covers back.
My OT3-loving ass:
There was only one bed.
It turned out to be a defective Murphy bed and it trapped them in the wall.
Crack fic fans:
There was only one bad. A stabbed B in the heart and watched as the warm blood gushed out. The tiny bed wasn’t a problem anymore. A got a whole 8 hours and woke up refreshed to get rid of B’s body
People who think murder is the best ending to the there was only one bed trope:
There was only one bed… and it wept alone in the darkness, as it wept every night.
“Is there no one for me?” it whispered.
It didn’t matter that it was a double
bed. It was still the only bed in the room. And it was so alone, and
wept itself into aching silence every day, though weeping never did it
any good.
Every sunset it would say to itself, “It
doesn’t matter that I’m alone. I’ll be the best bed I can.” For the bed
knew what it was for. Whenever anyone lay on it, it did its best
to help them find comfort and give them good rest. And if rest wasn’t
what they desired—for example, if a couple (or more) someones were on
the bed for whom rest was the very last reason they’d lain
down—then the bed would make sure that all its springs reacted with
their utmost springiness, and that its memory foam absolutely remembered what to do. To be so close to joy, and to help it last: that was worth so much.
Yet knowing what you’re for in the world, and scrupulously being
that, is not necessarily enough for one to be whole. And sure enough,
so often the darkness would fall, and there would be no one else in the
room where the bed lived. And without fail the loneliness would creep
out of the shadows and slide in among the bed’s springs and insinuate
itself between the layers of foam—inhabiting the bed in ways it had no
power to prevent. Then it would weep again, and be ashamed to do so… but
the bed just couldn’t help it. “Is there no one for me?” it would whisper, one more time, into the emptiness… from which no answer came.
(warning: CRACK FOLLOWS) (or something very like it)
Hah, though after the “read more” break DD’s story gets a little sexier than I like (I do love the twist that it starts as though), this whole post amuses me because I DO love to see how many different ways any one trope can be interpreted– as many as there are creators …and characters… and okay it’s pretty much infinite.
<p>This trope in particular amuses me in that respect, because, without thinking about it, I’d actually written the line “But there’s only ONE bed!” into one of my earliest fics on AO3, and then I remembered that was a trope and I laughed like anything, because in MY story it was used by two little kids in the process of realizing they were actually ONE little kid. As completely non-sexual as you can get. And I was like, “Yep, here I am, taking over AO3 with my totally Ace (and technically even Middle Grade) content. Bow to MY twists on tropes, world!”
To @kushandwizdom this is a rather unfair portrayal of Africa as a whole since half of these are literally just South Africa. So Instead to add to this post and better dispel the myth of Africa as the vast wasteland of poverty most people think, I found a much more mixed collection of pics from various countries.
Luanda, Angola
Agadir, Morocco
Lagos, Nigeria
Cairo, Egypt
Port Louis, Mauritius
Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire
Algiers, Algeria
Tripoli, Libya
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania
Tunis, Tunisia
So, there, a much better case demonstrating the various major cities around Africa showing it isn’t some technologically backwards continent, but actually pretty up-and-coming in the world of commerce.
I once was talking to my Ethiopian manager about ignorant people asking her dumb shit about her life before she moved to the states…
the worst story she told me about was when she told a fellow student (at a fairly prestigious university) about a concert she went to back home. The other student responded with “omg you have music there!?” 🤦🏾♀️
Rebloging, because we need to see these pictures.
As for stupid questions: “do you have grocery stores in Ecuador?”
These are great!
A redneck neighbor once asked my mom (in the 80s) if they had cars in Peru. Sigh.
This is the product of poor world history in school & little current affairs coverage outside Western Europe, except for catastrophes, so all we see are the war torn, poverty stricken, disaster-affected parts on the news. And racism, of course.
I bet most Americans who think that African countries are just completely poverty stricken have no idea what the US looks like in its poorest areas, not everywhere in the US is nice suburbs or unrealistically large apartments on tv
Los Angeles, California
Hartford, Connecticut
New Orleans, Louisiana
Camden, New Jersey
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
McDowell County, West Virginia
Flint, Michigan
Washington, D.C.
Do you see the world as it is, or as someone told you it is?
Yo, don’t forget Salem, Oregon. If you go to downtown Salem, there’s a lot of homeless camps over there.
Salem, Oregon, near the river downtown.
The U.S. is just a third world country trying to cosplay a first world country.
Imagine if you didn’t grow up in the United States but every time it was portrayed on tv it was only the rural parts and all you saw was farmland and prairies and so you thinks that’s all that’s there…for some reason all the so is show the rural parts of sub Saharan Africa.
Rules: Take the book closest to you and turn to page 200. The first sentence or phrase predicts your future. Write the title of the book you’re getting it from and the quote
“This book could not have happened without all of the incredible people around me.” (Unfuck Your Habitat, the acknowledgements page.)
that seems hopeful?
i’m not tagging anyone, do it if you want to
“‘Yeow!’”
(Sherlock Holmes: The Missing Years, by Jamyang Norbu.)
Wow, this one’s kind of appropriate after all:
“She will?”
(Nation, Terry Pratchett)
I take that back, that isn’t *kind of* appropriate, that is the single most accurate prediction anyone could make about my future. Particularly the punctuation.
