watercolor practice in my sketchbook
go. I’m making grooveshark playlists this week…easing into the xmas preparation thing s l o w l y…
no cough syrup
you are not ‘grape flavoured’
have you ever tasted a grape
you taste like death and the tears of small children
not fucking grape
wow what a surprise another cis-gendered white upper-middle class american male telling someone what they can and cannot identify as. why don’t you go fuck yourself
I feel that.
The RCMP are looking for a chain of emails and documents that support Mike Duffy’s allegations that the Senate expenses scandal reaches right into the Prime Minister’s Office, CBC News has learned.
When it comes to homeschooling, public perception is largely limited to a few, all-pervasive tropes. The first is that of the religious homeschooler–those who, like David d’Escoto of Christian website Crosswalk.com, see public schools as the “biggest morality corrupters and worldview warpers” in America. Less common, but still prevalent, is that of the self-proclaimed “hippie homeschooler,” inspired by texts like Grace Llewellyn’s The Teenage Liberation handbook to practice an extreme version of free-range parenting, in which children are encouraged to determine their own curriculum in accordance with their passions. Yet, even as a full three percent of the school-age population in America embraces homeschooling, according to a 2012 New York Magazine article by Lisa Miller, homeschooling is all too often treated as a monolith: Homeschoolers are either fundamentalists or anarchists, religious extremists or hippies. Rarely, if ever, is it explored as a potential educational setting for so-called “gifted” children–those looking for an academic challenge beyond that which their local educational facilities can provide.
Yet, during the two years I spent on-and-off as a homeschooled middle-schooler (spanning what would have been the seventh and eighth grades), the opportunity to work at my own pace and largely develop my own curriculum provided me with a level of academic intensity and emotional as well as intellectual independence unavailable (and, indeed, unaffordable) through more traditional means. Part of the decision to homeschool was pragmatic—my mother’s work took us to France, then Italy, in quick succession. Yet no less influential was my—and my mother’s—desire to offer me a degree of challenge beyond that which the schools I had attended could provide.
Read more. [Image: Carolus/Wikimedia]
An interesting article - she nails it regarding the stereotypes foisted on homeschoolers.
It’s bittersweet to have a pet for a day. Earlier this year, this little one was stolen from the nest by our cat. Too little to survive without its mum and dad, 7yo provided palliative care. She cheeped loudly and ate worms until bedtime, but didn’t wake in the morning. 7yo was philosophical in her sadness. “I wanted to see her fly…”
“It was fun feeding her worms…”
“Can I keep some of her feathers?…”
“I’m hungry, can we have breakfast?”
I´m not gonna answer that, I´m not!
She freezes as she reads the anon message.
Are they right? Is she too old?
She had known this day would ultimately come, known that one day, she would no longer be allowed to enjoy the things around her, or use the internet anymore other than to send work emails, but she had hoped that day was still far off.
True, she did have a child. Perhaps that should have been her first clue. After all, becoming a mother goes hand-in-hand with dedicating your life to clipping coupons and driving carpools. And with all of that, who has time to enjoy good acting, or a wonderful story-line, or art?
She looks down at her hands sadly. The anon is right. She is now an “old peep”. She should be ashamed of herself.
She sheds one single tear and shuts off her computer. She then unplugs it and carries it to the trash. Her place is no longer among young persons. Her child is asleep upstairs for the night. The house is quiet and dark. She grabs her child’s purple crayola marker and writes “old peep” across her forehead, then moves to her living room, turns the tv on, and changes the channel to the news.
Yes. This is where she belongs now. Tomorrow she will make sure to throw away all of her young person clothes and buy ugly beige sweaters and ruffled white blouses. She will give away her pathetic collection of fantasy books the local library, and throw away the autographed photo she got from her favorite actor two years ago. These are not things she is allowed to have anymore.
She begins her life as an old peep, sitting in the dark, watching the news, thinking about taxes and diapers, grateful to the anon who pointed out the error of her ways.
I love you
Another old peep
What I love about posts like that from what is likely a 12 year old, is that unless you manage to die young, every single one of you will be my age. And when you are, you’ll find that you really don’t change very much in your interests and in the things that make you happy. Details change, but the essential you-ness remains the same.
Another thing you’ll discover is that older people really don’t miss being young. Young folks always think this is the case, that youth is so valued that when we reluctantly leave it we must pine for it, must pathetically wish to be back there, that we scratch at the door of youth begging to be let back in by hanging out in young people places, like Tumblr. Oh honey. We are not here for you. We are here in spite of you.
If the adults around you exchange amused looks when you say things like this, it’s because we know. And sooner than you think, you’ll know.
The main thing I miss about my twenties are my knees. I now have creaky knees that don’t like me.
What I don’t miss about my twenties was how much I didn’t know about the world, and how much I didn’t know what I didn’t know. Now I know there’s lots I don’t know, and that just makes me even more eager to find out as much as I can before I shuffle off this mortal coil. I also don’t miss the lack of life experience, the lack of context, and the fact that fewer people took me seriously because of my age. And I don’t miss how uncomfortable I was in my own skin compared to now.
Yes. This is better. 35 is nice. I’m curious if 40 will be even more awesome.
I can tell you, 60 is the awesomest so far :)
Turmeric freshly harvested. First time growing this. Tastes nothing like dried. Fragrant, complex with a little bitterness. #iphoneography #permaculture #herbalremedies
That’s fantastic! Did you start from store bought? Turmeric needs some processing before you turn it into powder. I’ll be making a post on this soon :-)
I did start with roots I got from an international food store near me. I look forward to you post on drying turmeric. I will be posting about what I have learned about growing it and how to improve next season.
Want to grow this. What zone?