hey, hi, I was just on the former bird app and came across this info from a brand new study and now I cannot stop screaming internally??? what the actual fuckkkk
Daryl and Marlin, our ship cats! It’s Marlin’s second season sailing (though he’s been with us three years- got locked at the seaport last season for crimes) and Daryl’s first! What sweet babies 💖
The people have spoken: What Crimes Has Locked This Poor Soul Away
You are Marlin, ship’s cat and mascot of the tallship Lady Washington. It is the summer of 2021, you are about a year old, and full of Mischief.
Lady is docked in the Port of Everett, and no one is paying attention to you- never mind the fact that they’re doing their jobs and getting money so they can keep pampering you. No, they’re not paying attention to you Right This Instant, so you decide you want to take a little jaunt off the ship and explore on your own.
In addition to the marina, the waterfront, and all manner of other delights, the Port of Everett also has a Naval base, so you decide to check it out! See what all the fuss is about.
Of course, wandering kitties without the proper credentials aren’t allowed on high security Naval bases, so when the Marines inevitably capture you and ask you where your people are and what you’re doing here and how you got here, you just curl up cutely and bat your eyes and meow the most pitiful meow because these new people are paying attention to you but not the Right attention, no one’s even petting you!
They call the number on your collar, which goes to the captain of Lady at the time, who… is on leave. In Florida.
“Ma'am? Is this your cat?”
“Oh god yeah where was he?”
“A high security government facility. Can you come pick him up?”
“Considering I’m on the other side of the country, no. Let me get in contact with the crew to send someone.”
“Thank you. Also he’s very cute.”
“I know.”
So the captain does just that, playing telephone while trying to find someone to go pick you up. Except by the time a viable crewmember is chosen and calls back to confirm, you’ve gotten bored and decided you want to leave.
So you clawed the Marine holding you and escaped.
You get a smidgen more exploring time before you’re captured again and taken to your crew and back to the boat, but at this point no one is happy including you, because no one pet you the Whole Time you were off adventuring and that’s a damn travesty.
And not only that, when you get back to the ship, you’re locked up tight in the aft cabin because no one trusts you anymore not to wander off and break into government facilities when they’re not looking, and then when the boat gets back to her homeport in Aberdeen, they do you just the WORST injustice and lock you inside there! For the whole winter! And then the following summer, because you are now a Criminal and Criminals don’t sail.
Except this season, you made Big Pouty Eyes at everyone, and they caved and let you back on, so you are a very happy kitty now.
With a tracker in your collar so this doesn’t happen again.
adhd is so embarrassing ur basically like “I have to have fun right the fuck now or I’m throwing myself off the roof” 90% of the time and you also have very little control over this
This was the single most important thing for me to start understanding re: my undiagnosed ADHD, and it’s the thing no one tells you except other ADHD sufferers. My brain’s reward system is so broken that boredom rapidly becomes indistinguishable from a depressive episode. There’s no healthy, normal ability to experience something as simply being a little dull–as soon as my brain isn’t getting regular hits of stimulation, I start clawing at the walls. This is what makes working in a structured environment and initiating tasks so difficult for me, not malice or other character flaws.
What makes it worse is that, if you’re like me, when you were growing up, the only way your authority figures knew how to perceive this was “they’re just goofing off,” and therefore, would deprive you of anything remotely stimulating until you’d done your work, thinking that – if it worked like it would with an NT kid, you’d do your work faster so you could get back to having fun.
Instead, they just pulled the plug on any tiny bit of power you had running to your necessary brainwaves and put you into longterm shutdown mode.
But then….you grew up…with only that method for coping ingrained into you. So no matter how much you may know logically, now, that you have to have the “fun/interesting/challenging” cord plugged in for your brain to have any juice at all, you feel guilty for having to plug that in FIRST instead of as a reward for doing Adulting. So you just sit there, unplugged, not getting anything done.
Or maybe that’s just me.
even the most supportive and well meaning people in my life struggle to understand how painful lack of stimulation is, how immobilizing executive dysfunction is, and how i cannot feel satisfaction the way they do. the number of times i’ve been told “won’t it feel so nice to accomplish it and have it off your plate?” and having to explain that i don’t feel relief or pride when i finish a task, just exhaustion, and that’s part of why it’s so hard to even start it
I demand vampires with parent issues. the parents in question have been dead for 7 centuries but their immortal offspring still bring them up every week in therapy
and no i don’t mean their vampiric sire aka the rando who bit them in the woods one night and fucked off. i mean like the 14th cent stonemason who refused to let his kid apprentice with a traveling bard, because that’s just not solid steady work, not like this here cathedral we’ve been building for generations, this is a respectable family business my lad, a blessing fallen right into your lap! and you going on and on about the hurdy-gurdy. traveling minstrel indeed!
what are you even supposed to do when youre angry. cant scream at anyone cos im not a dick. cant break anything cos i paid money for that. cant rip my hair out cos i need it on my head. literally what now
imagine if the oceans were replaced by forests and if you went into the forest the trees would get taller the deeper you went and there’d be thousands of undiscovered species and you could effectively walk across the ocean but the deeper you went, the darker it would be and the animals would get progressively scarier and more dangerous and instead of whales there’d be giant deer and just wow
I wish Americans fucked with more foreign music. You don’t have to know the language to appreciate a good record. Folks in other countries listen to our music and don’t speak a lick of english. Music needs no translator
you’ll get an endless streaming of songs (ad free!).
I personally found myself loving 1970s Ghana, Senegal and Cote d’Ivoire!
Also 1920s and 1970s Japan for sure! Cambodian music:
spectacular. Love Armenia and Mali as well. I’ve been told 70s Germany is weird and 30s
Algeria is cool but I haven’t gotten around to those yet.
Italy’s 1960s is bomb ofc but I’m biased ;)
• An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television, getting drunk, and smoking cigars.
• A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.
• A bar was walked into by the passive voice.
• An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.
• Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.”
• A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.
• Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.
• A question mark walks into a bar?
• A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.
• Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, “Get out – we don’t serve your type.”
• A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.
• A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.
• Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.
• A synonym strolls into a tavern.
• At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar – fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.
• A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.
• Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.
• A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.
• An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.
• The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.
• A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned by a man with a glass eye named Ralph.
• The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.
• A dyslexic walks into a bra.
• A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.
• A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.
• A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.
• A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony
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