The older you get, the more you turn into a cartoon character.
All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.
Instagram is revolutionizing the way that we communicate through images. It’s a vessel for a picture to reach a potentially massive audience in an instant. Once the picture is uploaded and reaches the followers of the specific feed; from there, it can reach thousands and perhaps millions of others through other social media.
One of the most unique aspects about Instagram is that it’s direct from the field— from photographer to viewer. By handing over TIME’s Instagram feed to a photographer covering a breaking news story—whether it’s Ed Kashi on Hurricane Sandy or Brooks Kraft on Obama’s election trail—we are giving the photographer the opportunity to file direct from the field to our viewers. No editor involved. That’s revolutionary.
Laws for the modern woman.
You don’t have to agree with them all, just know that if it’s out of your comfort zone, it’ll probably make you a bit wiser.
Come on, y’all single ladies! Who’se going to propose first?
LAWS OF MODERN WOMAN
[…] And so when the power does go out, as it did for so many last night, it’s now normal to reach first for a cell phone, not a candle, both for the light and for the comfort of knowing you’re not alone.
They don’t know if it’s Obama’s politics that failed them, or if it’s the Republican conservative platform that they’re told led to the recession. When the 20-somethings figure out who to blame, that’s going to shift the electorate for years to come.
It struck me then, and it strikes me again now, how instantly mutual dislike can make itself evident. Or was I only reacting to their indifference? They did not appear to value me, and so the hell with them.
Do what you like to do. It’ll probably turn out to be what you do best.
I’m convinced that most people do not grow up. Our real selves, the children inside, are still innocent and shy as magnolias.
I should define ‘idiot’ for our purposes. I don’t mean someone of low I.Q. or poor academic abilities. Intelligence as commonly conceived has nothing to do with it. By ‘idiot,’ I mean exactly what my brother meant when he tagged me with the epithet: an impractical and unreasonable person, a person who tends to forget all the important lessons, essentially a fool, one who willfully ignores all that he has learned about how to come to his own aid. A person who is so fixated on the fact that he is in a hole that he fails to climb out of the hole. An idiot, in short, is someone who is self-defeatingly lazy.
Being a scientist requires having faith in uncertainty, finding pleasure in mystery, and learning to cultivate doubt.
“I hope you live a life you’re proud of.” — F. Scott Fitsgerald
The New Yorker this week is publishing a story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, “Thank You for the Light,” that it rejected three-quarters of a century ago.
“‘Thank You for the Light,’ which Fitzgerald’s grandchildren discovered while going through his papers, is just a vignette — only a page long — almost fable-like, and written in a pared-down style that, at the end especially, seems more Hemingway than Fitzgerald,” says the NYT.
Wow, definitely want to read this!