ShePaintsWithWords

Annika. 21. New Englander. Art history, photography, painting, theatre, words, rampant liberalism. Sherlockian. Whovian.
A small obsession with gothic cathedrals.

appendingfic:

ironcheflancaster:

wedonotpromoteviolence:

heirofspacecore:

sleek-black-wings:

thederpywingedone:

batmansymbol:

by the way did I ever tell y’all about the time I got a blank message from nobody, sent on new year’s eve in 1969, when the internet didn’t exist?

because that happened

What the fuck

Time travel.

Or maybe its from 2069, when we’ve developed the technology to send data to the past. You sent yourself a blank message as a test but as the email address you used to send it doesnt exist yet, it came up as no sender

I… what?

OKAY KIDS, LET’S LEARN ABOUT THE UNIX EPOCH

So back in the early days of computers, when we were trying to build clocks to keep all our computers in sync, we tried a bunch of different ways to synchronize them in ways that both normal people could use and programmers could utilize.

We just tried saying “The current time is THIS date” and just storing that date as some text, but while that was easy for humans, it was a bunch of different numbers that worked together in funny ways and computers don’t play nice with a bunch of random, arbitrary rules.

Not much worked, until we realized that we needed a BASELINE to compare against, and a way to represent the current time that covers everybody. So we came up with Unix time, because Unix was the style at the time. Essentially, Unix time represents any given time by saying “How many seconds ago was 12:00 AM on January 1, 1970 in Iceland somewhere?”. Recent enough to keep the numbers relatively small, far enough that nothing computer-y would fall before it, and consistent enough that there’d be no discrepancy based on where you are.

So what happens when you see the date “December 31, 1969” on a buggy message like this is that the computer received a bunch of zeroes by mistake and went “Oh, this must be a message!” Then when it tried to interpret it, it got to the date, found a zero, and said “Zero seconds since the Unix Epoch? I’ll round down - this was sent at the last second of New Year’s Eve, 1969! They’ll be so happy to finally get their blank message.”

And then the computer traipsed off on its merry way, because computers are fucking ridiculous.

This is frankly more hilarious than the 1969 time traveler theory

traversinq:

vintage/personal

(Source: 500px.com)

n0ot-no0t:

vmagazine:

Dr Bhagavan Antle of The Institute of Greatly Endangered and Rare Species (T.I.G.E.R.S), photographs 4 varieties of Bengal tigers

This is GORGEOUS

(Source: vmagazine)

grimgrinninggirl:

witchyredhead:

bi-privilege:

"she can’t be bisexual! she’s in a relationship with a man!"

image

Perfect use of that gif. Thank you.

#My name is Inigo Montoya you erased my sexuality prepare to die

kendrawcandraw:

i don’t know what im doing

hippity-hoppity-brigade:

THE BEST WAY TO GO OUT: CONTINUING A RUNNING GAG.

(Source: fionaglenanne)

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you’re haunted by memories of your military service.

Fire her. She’s got it the wrong way around.

OH MY GOD

(Source: queentatmaslany)

When Van Gogh was a young man in his early twenties, he was in London studying to be a clergyman. He had no thought of being an artist at all. he sat in his cheap little room writing a letter to his younger brother in Holland, whom he loved very much. He looked out his window at a watery twilight, a thin lamppost, a star, and he said in his letter something like this: “it is so beautiful I must show you how it looks.” And then on his cheap ruled note paper, he made the most beautiful, tender, little drawing of it.

When I read this letter of Van Gogh’s it comforted me very much and seemed to throw a clear light on the whole road of Art. Before, I thought that to produce a work of painting or literature, you scowled and thought long and ponderously and weighed everything solemnly and learned everything that all artists had ever done aforetime, and what their influences and schools were, and you were extremely careful about *design* and *balance* and getting *interesting planes* into your painting, and avoided, with the most astringent severity, showing the faintest *academical* tendency, and were strictly modern. And so on and so on.

But the moment I read Van Gogh’s letter I knew what art was, and the creative impulse. It is a feeling of love and enthusiasm for something, and in a direct, simple, passionate and true way, you try to show this beauty in things to others, by drawing it.

And Van Gogh’s little drawing on the cheap note paper was a work of art because he loved the sky and the frail lamppost against it so seriously that he made the drawing with the most exquisite conscientiousness and care.

— 出典:Brenda UelandIf You Want to Write: A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit (via raggedybearcat)

(Source: nyctaeus)

actualjainasolo:

darshanapathak:

Raise your hand if you’re straddling the line between crippling anxiety and not giving any fucks about anything

image

thelandofmaps:

Average number of thunderstorm days each year in the United States [600 x 600]
CLICK HERE FOR MORE MAPS!
thelandofmaps.tumblr.com

renigada:

Daine from The Immortals series by Tamora Pierce

Pose ref by jagged-eye

lonequixote:

Paris, the Boulevards, Night Maximilien Luce