Text

It’s late, I have to get up in the morning and I’m lying here taking stock of my life. Sometimes I just don’t understand this world. Sometimes I wonder “what if”.

Photoset

luxuryaccommodations:

Kapari Natural Resort - Santorini, Greece

With its top-notch facilities, outstanding selection of boutique-style rooms and an unbeatable location in Santorini’s charming village of Imerovigli, Kapari Natural Resort is a sanctuary for the soul. Combining traditional Cycladic architecture with contemporary minimalism, the hotel’s rooms and suites welcome guests in a refined atmosphere, with tasteful furnishings, state-of-the-art amenities and breathtaking views across the famous caldera. There’s also an elegant private residence ideal for larger families, a gorgeous infinity-edge pool overlooking the sea, as well as a charming restaurant providing great Mediterranean cuisine and views to die for. 

WebsiteTripAdvisor

jesus fuck i hate britain, i’m moving there

Quote
"

A well-educated time traveller from 1914 enters a room divided in half by a curtain. A scientist tells him that his task is to ascertain the intelligence of whoever is on the other side of the curtain by asking whatever questions he pleases.

The traveller’s queries are answered by a voice with an accent that he does not recognize (twenty-first-century American English). The woman on the other side of the curtain has an extraordinary memory. She can, without much delay, recite any passage from the Bible or Shakespeare. Her arithmetic skills are astonishing—difficult problems are solved in seconds. She is also able to speak many foreign languages, though her pronunciation is odd. Most impressive, perhaps, is her ability to describe almost any part of the Earth in great detail, as though she is viewing it from the sky. She is also proficient at connecting seemingly random concepts, and when the traveller asks her a question like “How can God be both good and omnipotent?” she can provide complex theoretical answers.

Based on this modified Turing test, our time traveller would conclude that, in the past century, the human race achieved a new level of superintelligence. Using lingo unavailable in 1914, (it was coined later by John von Neumann) he might conclude that the human race had reached a “singularity”—a point where it had gained an intelligence beyond the understanding of the 1914 mind.

The woman behind the curtain, is, of course, just one of us. That is to say, she is a regular human who has augmented her brain using two tools: her mobile phone and a connection to the Internet and, thus, to Web sites like Wikipedia, Google Maps, and Quora. To us, she is unremarkable, but to the man she is astonishing. With our machines, we are augmented humans and prosthetic gods, though we’re remarkably blasé about that fact, like anything we’re used to. Take away our tools, the argument goes, and we’re likely stupider than our friend from the early twentieth century, who has a longer attention span, may read and write Latin, and does arithmetic faster.

The time-traveller scenario demonstrates that how you answer the question of whether we are getting smarter depends on how you classify “we.” This is why Thompson and Carr reach different results: Thompson is judging the cyborg, while Carr is judging the man underneath.

"

— If a Time Traveller Saw a Smartphone [x] (via wearethemakersofmanners)

(via emergentfutures)

Text

Récemment j’ai réalisé l’importance de rejeter des gens dramatiques et difficiles. J’ai pas besoin de la connerie dans ma vie. Il y a des gens meilleurs dans le monde et j’ai des mieux amis.

Photo

(via megneto)

Quote
"When we follow our hearts, when we choose not to settle, it’s funny. Isn’t it? A weight lifts, the sun shines a little brighter, and for a brief moment, we find a little peace."

— Meredith Grey (via life-is-an-adventure—dare-it)

Photo
Photo
Photo

(Source: love-care-pray)

Text

cyberblogging:

these ads are bullshit the only hot single in my area is me

(via rtmp723)

Photo

(Source: shanncarr)

Photoset

(Source: alexolouhglin)

Photoset

(Source: sabrinacaps)

Link

sosungalittleclodofclay:

The title doesn’t do the piece justice

An hour later I was handcuffed to a hospital bed waiting for CAT scan results to know if my head was bleeding. I looked at the officer.

“What do you do when a woman hits you?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, man” he confided. “We don’t like doing these things, but our hands are tied. We have to look at who is the primary aggressor.”

Stop Violence Against Women aggregated legal writings and produced a list of determining factors for the primary aggressor. Below is a portion of the list:

⁃               The height and weight of the parties

⁃               Which party has the potential to seriously injure the other party

⁃               Whether a party has a fearful demeanor

⁃               Whether a party has a controlling demeanor

Like most men, I am taller and heavier than my wife. I’m a Marine veteran with combat training. Studies have shown that gender (either biologically or by social framework) plays a role in being fearful. Women are more likely to report being afraid[1].

In 2006, the spokesman for the New York Mass Transit Authority, Gene Sansone said, “a lot of psychologists agree that people are more receptive to orders from men.”[2] Of the full list of 12 criteria to consider, it seems unlikely the man in any situation wouldn’t have at least these four lined up against him from the moment the police start looking at the evidence. Another third of the list involve prior histories, and the final few ask the officers to weigh the injuries of both.

The two officers escorting me to and from the hospital and then to central booking didn’t have any advice when I asked what I should have done. “Sorry, man.”

They never took photographs of the side of my face.

(…)

Thirty hours later I stood in front of a judge and had a county prosecutor argue against me: “His wife is afraid of him. She said he…”

Released on my own recognizance; order of protection outlaws me from contacting her or my kids for a year.

A few days later my eye had an almost cartoonish discoloration. I’d gone back to the ER complaining of headaches and the light bothering me. She cleared out my bank account. I was a friend’s couch away from adding to the homeless veteran population — 62,619 + 1.

I sat across from my lawyer and talked about the other time. She grabbed me and ripped my shirt. Her nails cut my face. I bled. I tried to walk out the door. She blocked the door. I was a gym-every-day, active duty Marine, fearing someone a fraction of my size. If she had a penis I’d have a dozen ways to put her on the ground. Instead, I was left to sneak out a bedroom window and spend the night in a parking lot.

I tried the police and now in front of a guy practicing law for nearly as long as I’ve been alive I tried again.

“What do you do when a woman hits you?”

“Run. Run and don’t go to the police.”

That’s it.

I reached out to a few domestic abuse support groups. “How can this actually be happening? How can I be the one to have been arrested? Why?”

I spoke to a nice lady on the phone and tried to pass my confusion into a question they were built to answer: legal advice, criminal cases, orders of protection. I was going to have to get rid of this order of protection if I was going to get my kids.

“Sir, are you calling about domestic violence?” — yes.

“Okay, we’re going to help you. Has there been an arrest?” — yes, me.

“Ummm, wait what?”

Their web site mentioned they deal specifically with custody in cases of domestic abuse. Sounded like exactly whom I needed.

Then came the second punch. “Do you have custody of the children?” No, that’s why I’m calling.

“I’m sorry sir, our charter only allows us to help domestic abuse victims who have custody of their children.”

This silly game of catch-22. Why don’t I have my kids? Should I have taken them with me as I went to the police station? Should I have asked them to explain the nice officer how mommy had hit daddy and be an accomplice in her arrest? Would any of it matter? There were no injuries on her; plenty on me. They’d have just watched their dad get handcuffed and be as confused as I am.

At this point I couldn’t help but think beyond my situation. How I am I going to explain this all to my kids when I see them again. What would I tell my son if he ever was in a relationship that had gone as bad as mine had? If he called me up one night and said, dad….

(…)

Text

unfamiliarity:

“Toxic masculinity hurts men, but there’s a big difference between women dealing with the constant threat of being raped, beaten, and killed by the men in their lives, and men not being able to cry.”

Robert Jensen (via quoilecanard)

^^^^THISSS!!

(via apersnicketylemon)

Yes, rape and assault are a massive problem. But men also get raped, beaten and killed, and the only connection it has to whether men are allowed to cry is that men are ridiculed by society for crying, appearing weak or displaying vulnerability during times of crisis.

Sadly, as a result, allegations of rape or assault against men (whether by women or other men) go mostly ignored, or worse, unreported in large areas of the world. Instead they are widely and freely accused of being rapists, murderers, paedophiles or child abusers. Often innocent men too, and frankly, they no longer know where to turn during moments of crisis or desperation.

Thanks to this, men have now become at least three times more likely to kill themselves than their female counterparts. That is nothing that anyone should ignore or be at all proud of.

The world needs to stop pretending that men “just have it easy”

(Source: jezebeler)