my attention span is so bad i cant watch something without being on my phone at the same time i always have to have 2 layers of activity when did this happen why is capitalism stealing my soul away the spectacle has me firmly in its grip
Psychology time!
This isn’t having a short attention span (or well maybe thats part of it), but probably something called “Optimal Arousal.”(This is psychology, not anatomy, please keep your mind out of the gutter Xp)
Optimal Arousal goes like this: When effort is low, more stimulus is better. When effort is high, less stimulus is better.
I’ll elaborate. Whenever you do something easy (like maybe some homework as an example), unless something else is happening (like music or a show) you tend to get drawn away or doze off. In this homework scenario, the effort is low, so in order to keep at it and do well on working on it, you need a higher amount of stimulus, like a movie.
If something is hard, like for instance a test, you probably will try to avoid noise, going so far as to hush others so you can concentrate. The effort is high so you want less stimulus.
Keep this in mind. It can help you focus, and make life a lot easier. Dont feel bad for doing lots of different things while you are just chillin. Enjoy the knowledge!
Let’s talk about the times Robin survives Marian, when she is the fair memory who haunts him all his days, the wild eyes he learns to live without, the part of his heart he teaches to heal;
And the times Marian survives Robin, when she stands at the firelight’s edge and looks over these brave men, these few and merry men, and says with the even, carrying voice that she did not learn from Robin, this is not the end of us.
There are a hundred ways to fall in love and Marian and Robin have fallen into each of them. A shepherdess and a yeoman, a feisty noble daughter and an estranged noble son—she has fallen for his wit, his bravery, his chin; he for her skill, her beauty, her kindnesses. No matter how many arrows she loses or witticisms she drops at the audience’s feet, Marian will always be a lover.
Marian the shepherdess, with her loyal sheep dog and her loyal Robin, a Marian who understands being hungry, who understands patience and how to find a lost ewe, who knows the hills of Nottingham better than the sheriff or the outlaw and delights in outwitting them both.
Marian the archer, the way she held competition between her teeth til it begged for mercy; or the single daughter of a destitute house, who took up poaching in the king’s wood and knows the meaning of silence but somehow, despite it all, falls for a brash youth with a big mouth and a bigger heart.
A Marian who fights; or a Marian who sews and listens and whispers and smuggles out who and what Robin needs; a Marian who gets lost in the woods, who gets held up on the road or who gets suspicious in the market when rough men trade silver for bread and cloth; a Marian who is the heart of their cause and the head of their crimes.
They call her a lover so let’s call her a lover.
Let’s tell stories about the first time Marian falls asleep on hard ground beside the wheezy snores of Sherwood’s outlaws and feels safe, feels wanted, feels like she’s come home. They build something out in those woods with deer hides that are theirs only by right of aim and speed and skill, with the gold of fat rich men, and with the thanks of poor farmers whose children will eat decently five days a week instead of two.
Let’s talk about her love. Let’s talk about how she falls in love with this.
The runaway daughters, the girls hidden in boys’ clothing, in boys’ names, in boys’ bodies—Marian takes them aside when she can and whittles them bows to suit each of their strengths.
When a youth with skinned knees and tightly bound breasts weeps with rage when she can’t keep up with Robin’s combat practices, Marian tells her here’s how you fight when your center lives in your belly and not under your breastbone. Trust your legs, child. Trust your center. Yours is a different strength, not a lesser one.
Soon enough the girl is flipping boys over her hip while she stands with slightly bent knees, and Marian is making money hand over fist, betting against her opponents.
Let’s talk about how many ways there are to fall in love. Let’s talk about how the love of one man as a life’s calling is not a story I am interested in telling.
The outlaws were her children, her flock, her brothers and her right-hand men. They held each others’ secrets and each others’ lives in their callused palms and kept them safe.
Let’s talk about getting lost in the woods: Marian the shopkeeper’s daughter getting lost at fifteen, the first time she ran away from home, getting lost in the dark, the creep and tangle of it, and making it back long after moonrise by way of her aunt’s old nursery rhyme about how moss grows on the north side of trees. (At the next full moon she runs away to the woods again. She is not afraid, or, if she is, it doesn’t matter; she is in love).
Lost: Marian, dyemaker’s daughter, walking out to the woods with all the men who came before Robin, not for them but for the woods: the trees snarling overhead, the way they make her feel like life is more than this, that there is mystery, there is depth, and there is distance.
Let’s talk about how she loved Robin, yes, the quiet ways she traced his jawbone with shaking fingers, the hard way they both looked at each other across the fire and knew neither of them could long survive this. Let’s talk about how she loved. Let’s call it being lost.
Robin saw her first in a market, a smithy, a crossroads, and she was beautiful, but it wasn’t until she raised her chin that he loved her (til she smiled, til she shot, til she vanished—there are a hundred ways they fell in love).
Let’s talk about how she fell in love with herself.
Because she did: arrows and whispers, cold nights and good liars, Robin’s hand and the men who made Sherwood their own– she fell for it all. She fell for herself most of all.
Maybe your name is not Marian and my name is not Marian and sometimes hers is not either.
But we are all sometimes lost in the woods. We all sometimes find ourselves there, and open our eyes, open our lungs, fall in love.
Okay guys, I normally don’t go into politics but this is really really really really important. You might have heard of it, but the election of our next President is currently taking place in France, so I’ll write this quick words, in both English and French, in hope that a lot of you will read it.
This is me begging you to go vote on May 7th. I kept scrolling on twitter today and all I could see was hashtags terrifying me. #JamaisMacron (Never Macron) #SansMoiLe7Mai (Without me on May 7th)… On April 25th, we voted for 2 candidates. Despite our hopes, the two names that came out were Emmanuel Macron and Marine Le Pen. You might not know them if you’re not french, but both those names held different stories. While, yes, Emmanuel Macron is a guy that can’t keep his mind straight, change his words every five seconds, is said to be too young to be President, have some « peculiar » and stupid ideas , he is nothing compared to Le Pen. She is the leader of the far right, the « Front National », and she is a fraud. a political leader behind a party you should be scarred of. Racist, antisemitic, homophobic, anti-immigration, anti-multiculturalism are some of the words that could be used to describe them.
Truth is, I don’t want either of them to become my President, but we have to put pride and hatred aside. We are French, guys, we are free, we are a nation, we are a beautiful madness, WE are France. Terrorists attacks can’t divide us. I know I’m scarred, I don’t feel safe, and I don’t trust our politicians, but never, NEVER, will I give up my freedom and my identity to elect someone like Marine Le Pen. No, she’s not Hitler, she’s not the devil, she’s just a woman, a human being, and we have the power to keep her from ruling our country. That won’t be done by sitting on your couch on May 7th, or by giving an empty envelope when you’ll go vote, or by putting the hashtag « Sans Moi le 7 Mai ». You have more than a right to vote, you have an obligation, toward yourself and toward your country. You might not like it, you might hate Macron even, but you have a voice, and we all know one voice can change everything. So go vote on May 7th, vote for Emmanuel Macron, not because you like him, or because you like his ideas, but because giving him your voice means blocking the way to a party that will destroy our country, our beliefs and most certainly our life. Please, please, please, don’t sit this one out. Go vote, because if you don’t, then you’ve made your choice, you chose the National Front and everything it stands for. It’s not voting for, but voting against. Who’d you rather have, a weird liberalist with no party and early alzheimer (and a very bad way with words), or a woman who’s going to destroy everything being french means ? It is not easy, but necessary. Choose life, guys, choose France.
With all my love, a very concerned french citizen. ——————————————————————————————————-
Salut tous le monde, je ne parle normalement jamais de politique, mais cette fois c’est vraiment, vraiment, vraiment, vraiment important.
Je vous supplie d’aller voter le 7 Mai. Toute la journée, je n’ai vue que des hashtags qui m’ont fait atrocement peur sur twitter; #JamaisMacron - #SansMoiLe7Mai … Le 25 Avril, on a voté pour 2 candidats. Malgré nos espoirs, les deux noms qui en sont ressortis sont ceux d’Emmanuel Macron et de Marine Le Pen. Vous ne les connaissez peut-être pas si vous n’êtes pas français, mais ce sont deux noms avec deux histoires bien différentes. Il est vrai qu’Emmanuel Macron est un homme qui n’a pas l’esprit clair, qui change de mots et d’avis toutes les cinq secondes, qui est dit trop jeune pour être Président, et qui a clairement quelques stupides idées très « particulières », mais il n’est rien comparé à Le Pen. Elle est le leader de l’extrême droite, le Front National, et c’est une arnaque à elle seule, un leader politique derrière un partie dont vous devriez avoir peur. Racisme, antisémitisme, homophobe, anti-immigration, anti-multiculturalisme sont quelques mots qui pourraient bien les décrire.
La vérité étant que je ne veux qu’aucun des deux ne devienne mon(ma) Président(e), mais nous devons mettre de côté notre fierté et notre haine. Nous sommes français, les gars ! Nous sommes libre, nous sommes une nation, nous représentons une magnifique folie, merde, NOUS sommes la France. Les attaques terroristes ne doivent pas nous diviser. Je sais que j’ai peur, que je ne me sens pas en sécurité, que je ne fais pas confiance à nos politiciens, mais jamais, JAMAIS, je ne renoncerais à ma liberté et mon identité pour élire quelqu’un comme Marine Le Pen. Non, elle n’est pas Hitler, elle n’est pas le diable, elle est simplement une femme, un être humain, et nous avons le pouvoir de l’empêcher de gouverner notre pays. Ca ne se fera pas en restant assis sur votre canapé le 7 Mai, ni en rendant une enveloppe vide lorsque vous irez voter, ni même en écrivant ce fameux hashtag « Sans Moi le 7 Mai ». Vous avez plus qu’un droit de voter, vous avez une obligation, envers vous-même et envers votre pays. Vous n’aimez peut-être pas ça, vous détestez peut-être même Macron, mais vous avez une voix, et nous savons tous qu’une seule voix peut faire toute la différence. Alors allez voter le 7 Mai, votez pour Emmanuel Macron, pas parce que vous l’appréciez lui, ou même ses idées, mais parce que lui donner votre voix veut dire bloquer la route à un partie qui pourrait détruire notre pays, nos croyances et probablement même nos vies. S’il vous plaît, à tous ce qui lisent ce mots et ont le pouvoir de bouger les choses, à tous les français, ne faites pas l’impasses sur ces élections. Allez voter, parce que ne pas le faire, c’est déjà faire un choix, le choix du Front National et de tous ce qu’il soutient. Rappelez vous que ce n’est pas voter pour, mais voter contre. Qui préférez-vous, un libéraliste étrange, sans partie avec un alzheimer précoce, ou une femme qui pourrait détruire tous ce qu’être français veut dire ? Ce n’est pas facile mais nécessaire. Choisissez la vie, les gars, choisissez la France.
Avec tout mon amour, une citoyenne française très inquiète.
Anyone who posted about the American election needs to reblog this.
France, don’t do the same thing we did in the USA. Don’t do it. Go vote for that young guy.
