Well, a draft, at least. It took way longer than it should have to scrape up the information.
and also add little notes & ideas about them.
The whole article is in sections; you're supposed to hop around to whatever you're into.
It'll probably take another week before it's good enough to be considered "done", but I'm proud enough that I wanted to push it out a bit early.
I'm going to be giving a presentation on reproducible research using #emacs #org-mode. In preparing it, I discovered that calc can be called inline, that it can analytically take derivatives of functions and evaluate them. It can also output the function and derivative in LaTeX, and then plot the output in gnuplot. What wild magic is this? I had no idea calc was that powerful: I had only ever used it a few times as an rpn calculator.
Yep, I've confirmed it. The My Little Pony named Firefly came out for Christmas 1983.
I was six years old. I knew there were boys and there were girls. The boys looked one way, dressed one way, acted one way, and played one way. And I wanted to look, dress, act, and play like the girls.
I asked for Firefly for Christmas.
Mom made a show of having me tell my grandfather what I wanted for Christmas. "You don't want that." But to her credit, for all her faults, Mom did let me eventually get Firefly.
I played with Ponies and I played with Transformers and I tried to make it all work and I tried to live up to everyone's expectations and I ended up hurting myself and others as I grew up flailing around trying to be a budding man.
But please tell me again how we didn't have trans kids 40 years ago. Tell me again how it must be soy in the food or pollution in the water. Tell me it's social pressure. Tell me it's anything other than more widespread acceptance and a world where kids can more comfortably be who they are.
Go ahead. Tell me little Dave-who-wanted-to-be-Dana doesn't count because of some arbitrary line you've drawn. Tell me I'm ok and real but some kid crying over an Equestria figure is a threat to society.
I don't believe you. In fact I pity your narrow view of the past, shaped by a dominant narrative of rigid roles and smothering expectations.
We were here. We were queer. Get used to it.
I stopped by our local secondhand bookstore because I happened to be in the neighbourhood and my daughter was looking for Harry Potter books. I found a book on free software in the tech section, which was surprising. What was more surprising was that it was signed by the author. Not expecting that in an Australian bookstore, at a very reasonable price. #freesoftware #rms #lucky
I thought I'd check in with a little #Introduction: I'm Melina, and I'm a writer and editor based in Geelong.
I'm super excited to see what this platform is going to be like! I've gotten a bit sick of big social media companies becoming flooded with ads and blocking progressive accounts. And I'm pumped to finally have a feed that shows everything in chronological order 🙌
Confessions of a bad immigrant
I think nobody will dispute it that, if you want to immigrate to another country, you should make an effort to be considerate of the local culture and sensibilities. It's a bit like a relationship: know what you're getting into before committing, be willing to respect their limits.
"Consideration" is such a slippery notion tho. I've been told to not gay kiss or poly kiss because it made people uncomfortable, it's a family environment, think of their feelings. I've seen Japanese homosexual ppl say they had to marry for procreation, for to do otherwise would be a tremendous lack of consideration to their parents, to whose tirelessl hard work they owe their bodies. I've been told not to wear makeup to work, because I had to be professional and respect German cultural norms. By a non-German. No German ever seemed bothered by early transition me wearing concealer, but somehow "being considerate of the local culture" seems to translate so easily to "don't make me uncomfortable by flaunting queerness".
In some countries, everyday cooking is full of spices, with a rich, appetising scent. When they immigrate, some locals will complain of that terrible greasy smell that gets everywhere. Maybe they'll refuse rent to ppl from those countries. In the country of origin the smell get everywhere too, but there it was just a fact of life, nobody paid any mind, nobody blamed their neighbours for it. In the host country, it's inconsiderate.
I imagine what it feels to those immigrants. Either resign yourself to eating what must feel like the most boring, cardboard nothing food every meal, day at day. Or fail to prove that you deserve to live in the rich country. Taint the reputation of all your countrypeople. Fail to show that you assimilated, get booted right back into whatever terrible conditions you were fleeing from. ("If it's so terrible there you can get by without the spices". Yes you can. But should you have to choose?)
I'm being roundabout, even here, afraid of being one of the bad ones. I'm lying, I don't have to imagine how they feel, I know. You _will_ be assimilated. When the choice is deportation or assimilation, well, resistance is futile.
But what really gets to me, what really gets to me, is not being allowed to express sadness about it. The taboo on criticising host country. "If you complain so much why do you want to live here."
I want to live here, and I want to complain so much, complain about things that make me sad about living here. Germany will be fine. I'm not going to change anything, I don't hold any power in our relationship, I have to be a model citizen or else. But I will grant myself the right to vent to the void how I really feel.
It's past 1am and I am crying, a lot. I'm crying about things that most Germans won't empathise with, things they'd frown upon on their neighbours. Things related to overwhelmingly negative opinions about third-world, non-EU immigrants in polls, looming under outwardly liberal attitudes and a generally respectful treatment. (Usually Most of the time.)
Hell, I want to cry about things that many Brazilians will see as our flaws and not empathise with, at least the upper classes, at least those who haven't spent a few years in the cold lands. I look at my poor, dirty, violent country, and I miss not a curated reel of the best parts, I miss the people, with all their very real issues.
I miss not being able to sleep at 2am, every week, because middle-aged ppl are singing painful love ballads on booze and an acoustic guitar in the specialty bar in front of my rented room. I'm not being facetious, I really miss it. Having my healthy sleep patterns disturbed by them made me smile. They were happy. They were _making happiness_ I had to work the next day, I woke worse, work was worse, fuck work, work doesn't matter, this is music, love, happiness, this matters. They understood that.
Music and love and happiness is holy, damn you all.
I miss not being able to sleep at 2am because my neighbours are having a loud party. I miss the knowledge that if I knocked on the door with a smile I'd be taken right in, a perfect stranger, even if I was too shy and dysphoric to act on that knowledge it comforted me.
I miss not being able to sleep at 2am because of the magnificent ppl coming down from the hills, the favelas, blasting downright pornographic earworms right to the face of polite middle-class society, hacked DIY sound systems shaking the security walls with maxxed-out bass. They are so right, polite middle class society is a grinding wheel running on blood, it more than deserves being blasted at 2am with cocks buried to the balls and dripping, all-consuming hungry pussies.
I curse this silence. I miss not being able to sleep at 2am because it's Carnaval and everybody is outside dancing and drinking and fucking one another for the pure, innocent shining reason of a body wanting another body.
And yes, I confess, I miss singing at 2am.
smart packages to complete stuff in the minibuffer with few keystrokes:
after playing with helm and being overwhelmed by the usual #emacs goofiness (insane defaults, an hour+ of fiddling with conffiles to make it halfway usable, aggressive visuals and extreme complexity) I found selectrum which, wonder of wonders, works out of the box and does the job with no hassle. my emacs is smarter now.
(had icomplete earlier but this is better.)
My friend Paul Tranter has a new book out about slowing down cities. Here's a nice article on it. Not every day you get equal billing with David Attenborough.
#introduction post time!
I am Moxhuman, a 27 year old salesperson living in south east Melbourne!
I am an avid gamer, linux user, physics enthusiast, and sales trainer!
My preferred pronouns are He/Him or They/Them.
Not much else to say except Hi everyone! And I look forward to interacting with you all!
Middle-aged scientist from Australia, but have lived elsewhere from time to time. Married, two kids. I probably like many of the same things you do.
Welcome to thundertoot! A Mastodon Instance for 'straya