Float in Space
Inattentional Blindness
An introvert who is desperately in love with music, photography, culture, stories, outer space and anything that could be considered as art. Been cursed and blessed by the thing I believe it's called Rhotacism. Thought I was lost when I found myself studying in the faculty of literature and culture. Glad enough to grow up in South Jakarta, Indonesia.
Yana Kusuma. January 1992. Muslim.
Find me in other galaxies:
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Youtube: drownbywords
http://yanakusuma.polyvore.com/
twitter.com/yanavenged (@yanavenged)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/yanavenged
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Shannon Finley’s sculptures
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note to self: be angry, anger is righteous, but don’t burn yourself in your desperation to set the world on fire. it’s...
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“You can love someone so much… But you can never love people as much as you can miss them.”— An Abundance of Katherines, John Green (via ...
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Perfect.
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The Pale Blue Dot
In his book Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space, astronomer Carl Sagan related his thoughts on a deeper meaning of the above photograph:
Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.Image Credit: Startled Disbelief
(via sagansense)
Palestinians gunmen ride motorcycles as they drag the body of a man, who was suspected of working for Israel, in Gaza City
Don’t know what to say.
This is the Mary River turtle (Elusor macrurus), and its green mohawk is made up of algae. This often covers the shell as well as the head, and helps to camouflage the animal.
(via sagansense)
I take comfort in the fact that there are two human moments that seem to be doled out equally and democratically within the human condition—and that there is no satisfying ultimate explanation for either. One is coincidence, the other is déja vu. It doesn’t matter if you’re Queen Elizabeth, one of the thirty-three miners rescued in Chile, a South Korean housewife or a migrant herder in Zimbabwe—in the span of 365 days you will pretty much have two déja vus as well as one coincidence that makes you stop and say, “Wow, that was a coincidence.”
The thing about coincidence is that when you imagine the umpteen trillions of coincidences that can happen at any given moment, the fact is, that in practice, coincidences almost never do occur. Coincidences are actually so rare that when they do occur they are, in fact memorable. This suggests to me that the universe is designed to ward off coincidence whenever possible—the universe hates coincidence—I don’t know why—it just seems to be true. So when a coincidence happens, that coincidence had to work awfully hard to escape the system. There’s a message there. What is it? Look. Look harder. Mathematicians perhaps have a theorem for this, and if they do, it might, by default be a theorem for something larger than what they think it is.
What’s both eerie and interesting to me about déja vus is that they occur almost like metronomes throughout our lives, about one every six months, a poetic timekeeping device that, at the very least, reminds us we are alive. I can safely assume that my thirteen year old niece, Stephen Hawking and someone working in a Beijing luggage-making factory each experience two déja vus a year. Not one. Not three. Two.
The underlying biodynamics of déja vus is probably ascribable to some sort of tingling neurons in a certain part of the brain, yet this doesn’t tell us why they exist. They seem to me to be a signal from larger point of view that wants to remind us that our lives are distinct, that they have meaning, and that they occur throughout a span of time. We are important, and what makes us valuable to the universe is our sentience and our curse and blessing of perpetual self-awareness.
"(Source: , via sosuperawesome)
Who spotted Oli in the Kiba Bum boxers in Shadow Moses?
(via loveyourchaos)
(via jacvanek)
This has almost 10,000 notes?
I like marshmallows. What? There’s nothing unintellectual about marshmallows.
DON’T MAKE ME WAX PHILOSOPHICAL ABOUT MARSHMALLOWS, Y’ALL.
Hahahha
(Source: neverknewandneverwill, via epicjohngreenquotes)
(via itsbabyboo)
