the glorification of your 20s and fear of anything else has got to stop. mainly bc your 20s is quite literally the worst decade of your life the idea that ppl think you peak at 25 has me so sad for them
yes, food is fuel. but it is also for pleasure. it is also enjoyable. it is also emotional, personal, intimate. food is fuel, yes, but that does not make you a machine. you are allowed to eat something just because you want it, just because it sounds good, regardless of the nutritional properties. food is a shared human experience bridging across our entire existence. to reduce it to something as simplistic as fuel denies us the emotional connection that food contains. food is fuel, yes, but it is also so much more than that.
I think one of the most profound forms of love is “I’ll try that, for you. I may not like it, but I’ll try it.”
It’s a confused middle-aged man in a pottery class, whose daughter is helping him with his clay’s plasticity. It’s a kid scrunching up their brow while listening to their mom’s favorite music, trying to figure out why she likes it. It’s a girlfriend who says “Yes, I’ll go with you” and her girlfriend cheering and buying a second ticket for a con. It’s a friend half dragging another friend through an aquarium, the one being dragged laughing and calling out “Wait, wait, I know we’re here for the exhibit, but I haven’t been here! Slow down!”
It’s being willing to spend some of your time trying something new because it makes someone you love happy.
i hope shein gets shut down i hope ai projects get shut down i hope billionaires go bankrupt i hope public transportation expands fast i am so tired of the world’s bs
Five thousand years ago, the Sumerians called the night ngi, the stars mul, and the moon Nanna.
Four thousand years ago, the Akkadians called the night mūšu, the stars kakkabū, and the moon Sîn.
Three thousand years ago, the Hittites called the night išpanza, the stars haštereš, and the moon Arma.
Two and a half thousand years ago, the Greeks called the night nux, the stars astra, and the moon Selênê.
Two thousand years ago, the Romans called the night nox, the stars stellae, and the moon Luna.
Kings and queens and heroes looked up at them. So did travelers coming home, and little children who sneaked out of bed. So did slaves, and mothers and soldiers and old shepherds, and Sappho and Muršili and Enheduanna and Socrates and Hatshepsut and Cyrus and Cicero. In this darkness it didn’t matter who they were, or where they stood. Only that they were human.
Think of that tonight, when you close your window. You are not alone. You share this night sky with centuries of dreamers and stargazers, and people who longed for quiet. Are you anxious? The Hittites were too: they called it pittuliyaš. Does your heart ache? The Greeks felt it too: they called it akhos. Those who look up to the stars for comfort are a family, and you belong to them. Your ancestors have stood under Nanna, Sîn, Arma, Selênê and Luna for five thousand years. Now its light is yours.
