If you haven’t seen Attack on Titan abridged, you must see it. Keith Shadis is the best, Time well spent making these.
"Things Asians Hate," by Eliot Chang.
This is terrible AND WONDERFUL.
And funny. Just watch.
A thingy I thought might help someone. And it’s super easy mode.
Dudes. Please. Don’t ever fucking put acrylic paint onto your skin. Even deco paint. Even watercolor, and never oils. Even if you mix it with skin safe paint. Don’t paint with your fingers without gloves. Don’t apply it like makeup. Even a small amount.That is absolutely not what it’s for. Ask any art student who’s had to sit through ten different Hazardous Material lectures.
Seriously. I feel like I’m going to be shouting this from my death bed. Acrylic paints are not intended for use on skin, they can contain anything from Manganese, Cobalt, Cadmium, and even lead. Don’t do it.
My friend has severe nerve damage from constantly painting with his fingers. The Tin-man practically died from this shit. Come onnnn. And now five thousand people are going to do this. Lord.
save a life and reblog so maybe those cosplayers won’t do this.
I SEE PEOPLE USING THIS ALL THE TIME AND I GET SO SCARED FOR THEM!!
As a painter, I’ve lost a lot of feeling in my fingertips from acrylics being dripped on my fingers, you’re going to swell up and get itchy and oH MY GOD JUST DON’T DO IT.
I’m so glad this turned into a cautionary tale because I was about to ream the shit out of it.
here is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.
And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.
In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.
The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.
And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.
You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.
I couldn’t read the last paragraph, I had too much emotion water in my eyes.
well god damnnnn
Holy shit, this is beautiful!