Tag: leo’s queue

candidlyautistic:

cassandrasimplex:

I’m trying a variation on the method of loci technique while studying for my current class.

I have this problem with my Minecraft worlds, you see. I like to listen to audiobooks while I play. I’ll start building in a new world while listening to, say, Seanan McGuire’s  Rosemary and Rue, and then I have to continue listening to that series the whole time I’m playing that particular world. If I finish the series, I have to abandon that world until/unless a new book in the series comes out; I can’t just keep working on it to a different story. I’ve tried. I can’t remember where I put anything, or what goals I was working toward; nothing makes sense any more. If/when another book in the series comes out, I can then pick back up playing that world as though very little time has gone by; I can remember where most things are and what I was working on, what needed doing next, and so on.

But it just occurred to me that the opposite is also true. Normally, if I’ve read a series up to the latest book and then had to set it aside for a year or two waiting for the next one, I’ll have to re-read the series to refresh my memory before reading the new book. Not so with the series I’ve built Minecraft worlds listening to. A quick walk through the base, a quick inventory of collected materials, and my memory of both the Minecraft world and the story world is back online and ready to be built upon.

Cramming in the last couple of days before a test like this, recall becomes my biggest problem. I can memorize tons of information fairly easily, but not be able to recall it reliably; it takes time (and, apparently, lots of sleep) for me to form the memory traces that allow me on-demand access to the information I’ve stored. But spatial cues are easier for me to memorize, especially when I’ve built the “space” myself; I’ve long thought that the method of loci (”memory palace”) technique would be ideal for me. My problem implementing it is that pure visualization usually puts me to sleep – not from boredom, but from becoming completely immersed in the visualization.

But my problem with Minecraft is the opposite: Minecraft keeps me awake, sometimes long after I could and should have gone to sleep.

So right now, I’m working on a Physics Exam world, since that’s the area of physics I was weakest in on my pretest. A mental walkthrough of it calls to mind the formulae I’ll need to know: p = h / lambda,  f = m * a, f = k * [(q1 * q2) / d^2]… (Apparently, my Coulomb’s Law is a little weak, because I struggled a bit with that one; fortunately, I needed to work on more effective energy production for my base anyway, so that will get another review.)

Speaking of autistics minds often work differently…

1. I had a thought yesterday that was basically just: like 90% of all their problems would be solved if madara had met tobi at the river and not hashi. And like thinking about it more deeply, it actually maybe wouldn’t? BUT LETS IMAGINE. tiny grieving tobi at the river bank watching this loser trying to skip a rock across and blathering about some impossible notion of peace and like, being civil while acting as if they’re under a ceasefire until he starts poking problems into the dream like,

redhothollyberries:

blackkatmagic:

u know that no matter what some clans just will not negotiate" “how are you going to get this clan and this clan to make peace they’ve been feuding over a stolen dog for 200 years” and basically madara eventually develops a rep as an extremely violent good-will fairy, solving people’s problems because sO HELP ME GOD WE’RE GONNA HAVE PEACE AND YOU’RE ALL GOING TO LIKE IT!!

Tobi eventually introduces hashi to mada even though mada’s a possessive preteen who doesn’t like sharing so he’s like SUPER AGAINST THIS IDEA but tobi’s just: he’s an idiot, but he’s strong. I think you’ll get along great. (m: WHATS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!? t: you know exactly what it means, blockhead.)

bonus: when they’re like 30-something madara finds out that whenever he started getting good at skipping stones, tobi would use his water affinity to just PLONK pull the stones into the water like a magnet because the boy just doesn’t like to lose okay it’s not his fault madara never figured it out 

THIS IS FANTASTIC, OKAY. 

@redhothollyberries HOLLY HOLLY HOLLY LOOK AT THE AWESOMENESS.   

This is FANTASTIC setting for the “no central shinobi village but a strong peace among clans” and the “centralized ninja academy” thing OMG

ladyshinga:

fullyarticulatedgoldskeleton:

When people ask, “How can I tell if someone is disabled or just lazy?” I think about my parents.

My parents have known me my whole life. When they’re not actively contemptuous of me, they do seem to be somewhat aware of my general personality and character. In one of his nicer moments, my dad has called me “sweet-natured.” They can tell that when I make them a surprise breakfast or lunch that I enjoy being helpful and doing nice things for people.

They know from watching me grow up that I have always had trouble keeping my room clean, getting homework done, and keeping my desk tidy at school.

The longest I can push myself past my limits is about nine months. Then I collapse and end up less functional than I was before I pushed myself. This has been a pattern throughout my middle and high school years. I would go to public school for about a year, and then collapse and have to do the rest of my education at home. My work history follows this pattern, too.

I once sat in a therapy session with my dad to talk about the constant struggle we were having at home because he wanted me to help out more and do better in school. When he asked me why I didn’t do things, I broke down in tears, because I couldn’t explain it. “I just CAN’T. I want to, and I CAN’T.” Nobody listened.

My mom asked me why I don’t do things, and I said, “I just can’t. I sit there for hours trying to convince myself to do things, and I can’t. Move.”

And she said, “Don’t think about it, just do it,” completely missing the point.

When I got older I found words for the things I was dealing with. I got professionally diagnosed, and I’d look up information about my diagnosis and e-mail articles to my parents explaining what my disability is and why I can’t do things.

My parents have firsthand information about my character (helpful, likes doing things for others) and my history with disability (can’t consistently keep things clean, can’t manage a daily schedule). I’ve talked to them extensively about my diagnosis and given them information about it. They have known me my whole life, and I’ve always been this way. And they still, STILL choose to believe I’m just a bad person who doesn’t try and doesn’t care.

My disability isn’t invisible, people refuse to look at it.

People like problems they can yell at. They like having a target for their frustration. They don’t want to admit disability is real, because they want problems that they can either solve, or blame someone else for. And the disabled person themself is  their scapegoat, someone who can’t ever opt out of their role because the disability is never going to go away.

My disability isn’t invisible, people refuse to look at it.

My disability isn’t invisible, people refuse to look at it.

My disability isn’t invisible, people refuse to look at it.

Okay, so Kakashi thinking that he is going insane has so much potential for angst, but imagine this as well: “Hello, Halucinatiom Of My Dead Best Friend. I see yoi have done my mission for me again. Woild have been nice to know before I was half way into thr Lightning country, but oh well.” “Hi, Proof That I am Definitely Going Insane And Should Be Taken Off The Active Ruster. At least it is just Suna this time.” etc. PS 1st tm Kakashi calls him best friend Obito goes ??? and trips.

blackkatmagic:

I LOVE THIS. I’d totally go the cracky “welp, there goes my sanity” route, just for the sheer level of doneness Kakashi would eventually hit. Best. 

For that “glitch in the matrix” thing going around

sigilseer:

prismatic-bell:

Not me, but my mom.

In 1972, she ran away from home. She was gone for several months, and when she got home my grandmother started shaking her and screaming about how someone had told her my mother had no shoes and my grandmother was sure it meant my mom was dead.

She finally calms down, and they piece it together: my grandmother had gotten a phone call from someone who breathed two or three times, said “Cathy’s in bare feet,” and hung up. Except that’s not what they said–my grandmother had written the date in on her calendar, and on that date my mother was in Bare Feet, Arizona. She knew definitively that she was in Bare Feet because on that date she called home to talk to my grandfather, who told her Uncle Jim had died–“got himself shot”–and that she had missed the funeral. Ready for the glitch in the matrix part? Here we go:

–My grandfather had no recollection of the conversation–which would have been a strange conversation indeed, since Uncle Jim was still alive and, in fact, didn’t die until 2009, eight years after my grandfather. However, my mom did miss the funeral, thanks to a delayed flight. Cause of death? Supposedly, it was suicide, but there were enough indications for the family to believe that was a pile of horseshit, not least that shooting himself in the head with the rifle indicated would’ve been near-impossible.

–My mom was going by the name Patricia Danko when she was on the run–she had a fake ID and everything. She hadn’t called herself “Cathy” since leaving home and nobody knew she was traveling under an alias.

–According to my mom, she never gave a name for herself–either Patricia or Cathy–when she was in Bare Feet, and she would’ve had no reason to. Bare Feet had maybe a hundred people in it, and they were just stopping for food and gas.

–This isn’t just an account from my mother–my dad was with her at the time, and he remembers both the phone call and the truckstop.

But that’s not the weirdest nor the creepiest part, which is this:

–I’ve been trying for three years to find Bare Feet, Arizona–on the Internet, on old maps, by talking to old Arizona cowboys, and there was never a Bare Feet, Arizona. My mom convinced my dad to drive “through Bare Feet” on the way back from Texas in 2013 and there was no town anywhere along the highway, not even the abandoned bones of one. I’ve looked for Bare Feet, Barefeet, Bear Feet, Bare Feat, Bare Foot, Barefoot, and Bear Foot. None of these exist.

My mother stopped in a town that doesn’t exist, ate in a restaurant that never was, made a phone call that could not have happened and was apparently answered by a ghost from 40 years in the future, and later that night someone called my grandmother from a number that turned up on her phone bill only as a pay phone in Arizona to say that single sentence, “Cathy’s in Bare Feet.”

I didn’t initially want to reblog things here, but this is just too far up my alley. I think I’ll start collecting stories of incidents like this, weirdling magic at its most potent.