Study: Reading Fiction Makes People Comfortable With Ambiguity

And this is good.

(via thelifeguardlibrarian)

File this under: perfect “First Week of School” article + discussion point

(via hithertokt)

File under: Hey look!  Something else that contradicts Common Core.

Noteworthy!

(via girlwithalessonplan)

shermansgallifreyan:

oxboxer:

feferipixies:

the-fandoms-are-cool:

everythingis19:

cosmicsyzygy:

Look, I made a gif of this most awesome wizard at the Leaky Cauldron!

DUDE IS READING ‘A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME’ BY STEPHEN HAWKING

I NEVER REALIZED

are you serious

I always assumed wizards just ignored science, because the fact that “magic” exists, can explain anything. But there are MuggleBorn wizards, ones who, until they were eleven, lived in the real world and learned science and things. Did they all just abandon that normal, muggle knowledge, like Harry did? It’s always been there, itching in the back of my mind.

FOUR FOR YOU SCIENCE WIZARD

YOU GO SCIENCE WIZARD

can we point out that he’s doing wandless magic too

like voldemort couldnt even do that shit

molly fuckin weasley couldnt fuckin do that

who are you

Quick, somebody write a book series about the adventures of Magic Prodigy Science Wizard!!!

PLEASE SOMEONE JUST DO IT

Alan Baker had no use for wands, of course. If one were to Prior Incantato his outdated, duct-taped rod of walnut wood and dragon heartstring, its most recent use would have been the enchantment of the long-lived neurons in Alan’s own mind. This enchantment, possible only for those who were capable of seeing themselves as a complex amalgamation of neural impulses, allowed him to bypass both wands and words. Alan did this, not for show, not for power, but because wandwork distracted him from his reading.

Unfortunately, there was no legal spell to get rid of barflies.

“Hey- hey mate, you gotta- gotta minute to-“

Sobrius, Alan thought, placing one hand on his neighbor’s forehead without looking up. He pondered whether or not to cast a silencing barrier, even in violation of the Leaky Cauldron’s safety code.

“Thanks,” said the now-sober man, “Readin’ more of that Muggle trash, I see.”

Alan closed his eyes and counted to three, but when he opened them, the man was still there. Alan lowered his “muggle trash” in defeat, meeting the baggy, bloodshot eyes of the wizard sitting across from him.

Alan leaned forward, placing his hands steeple-like on the table. “Mr. Fletcher, do you know why time turners don’t send you into space?”

“The sky, y’mean? Cause they’re fer time turnin’, not apparation.”

Alan had to take a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “If time turners weren’t anchored to anything, the Earth’s rotation alone would be enough to ensure a time traveler’s demise. But someone at the ministry was clever enough to anchor them to a carefully guarded object that never moves relative to the Earth.”

“Fascinat’n,” slurred Mundungus, whose eyes had glazed over once it became clear that Alan didn’t actually have a time turner on him.

“But time turners are still very limited,” continued Alan, more to himself than to Mundungus, “They can’t go more than seven hours back, and not forward at all, and only in increments of one hour, and they only work on Earth… no, they’re very clumsy, if one truly pauses to think about it.”

“What’s yer point?”

“My point is that while wizards are slowly stagnating in their backwards remnant of the Dark Ages, Muggles are making progress, ever reaching for the light. Do you know that they don’t need magic to craft a hand of living silver?”

“Bah,” was Mundungus’s only reply, “You’d be best mates with that Weasley nutcase at the ministry, you would.”

Alan stood up, silently casting an infantes gelata to check for paradoxes. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” he sighed, “you’ve just wasted another two minutes of my time. Perhaps I bother because I have time to waste.”

And he twisted, as if to apparate, but instead faded out of existence with a distinct vworp. The air swirled in the wake of his departure, blowing back Mundungus’s straggly ginger hair.

“Muggleborns,” the short wizard muttered, then turned back to his drink.

••••••••

Thirty minutes earlier, Alan lounged contentedly within his quieting barrier, stirring his cup of tea absently and rereading one of his favourite Muggle books. He wondered, vaguely, which planet held the nearest sapient life, and what their magic would look like…

Brilliant.

(via lagertha-lodbrok)

“I went to a prestigious small liberal arts college in Maine. And like many other people of color who have gone to prestigious institutions of higher learning, I had a lot of white liberal friends. And I am sick of some of these white liberal friends telling me how guilty they feel all the time. How guilty they are, how their whiteness makes them feel bad.

“You know, I’m not impressed. Because if I had the choice between white guilt and racism, I’d take the white guilt every time! White guilt sounds great! Are you kidding me?

“Imagine this; you’re in a line, you’re about to board an airplane. All of a sudden security shows up. They pull a Sikh man with a beard and a turban off, they search his bags. You’re watching, what do you think to yourself? ‘Oh this is terrible, I feel terrible! This is again racial profiling. That man’s done nothing wrong. How ‘bout they search––they should search me, I’m a white man! I could be the next Timothy McVeigh. They don’t know that! Why don’t they search my bags? ‘Cause I’m white. I feel terrible. I feel so terrible. I mean, I’m still gonna board the plane, but I’m gonna feel bad about it, I’m gonna sit in my chair, I’m gonna feel gross- Oh! I’ll write Rachel Maddow an email, that’s what I’ll do! And I’ll tell Terry Gross, and I’ll read my bell hooks on the plane. Yes, see then, everything will be better. I’ll feel better!’

“…to any white liberals watching, remember this; your white guilt is a part of your white privilege.”

— Hari Kondabolu

This is kind of mind-blowing, and important to remember. White guilt means you are still making everything about you. But that guilt isn’t going to keep you from getting a job, or a loan, or an education. And at the end of the day, feeling guilty still means you know you’ve done something wrong.

(via cognitivedissonance)

shortformblog:

micropolisnyc:

I love those final moments of a Spelling Bee. Watch 13-year-old Arvind Mahankali stifle his smile as it dawns on him, “Knaidel. I’ve got this.” Then cut to the proud little brother who can’t contain his excitement, the beaming parents, and finally, the winner, frozen in immortality.

Arvind goes to M.S. 74 in Bayside. Go Queens!!

Wow, spelling bees are more awesome that I remember.

So, so awesome. I’m so glad spelling bees live on.

Sister: Quidditch was one of the things I really missed about book 7.
Me: I missed all the descriptions of the dinners.
Sister: You would.

spaceplasma:

Dirty thunderstorms

A dirty thunderstorm (also, Volcanic lightning) is a weather phenomenon that occurs when lightning is produced in a volcanic plume. A study in the journal Science indicated that electrical charges are generated when rock fragments, ash, and ice particles in a volcanic plume collide and produce static charges, just as ice particles collide in regular thunderstorms.

Nature is incredible.

(via thebitterhour)

heatherbat:

daisyfairy:

boxofpoptarts:

tin-pan-ali:

awhisper-acapella:

daisyfairy:

i’d like to see a version of romeo and juliet about a person that works at burger king and a person who work at mcdonalds that fall in love

“Deny thy corporation and…

How do I love thee, I can’t even the ways

fictitiousfake:

J.K Rowling said that her inspiration for Hagrid came from when she was 19  in a pub in the west country and this terrifying looking guy came in with these other biker guys and the only thing he talked to J.K about was how his cabbages were getting on

This makes me really happy for some reason

(via thebitterhour)

Elizabeth Warren: I LOVE YOU.

(via cognitivedissonance)

“Abundant sunshine.” Brilliant. Let me not waste that day like I have so many others lately.