Note: I do not claim to fully agree with everything I post, rather it likely sparked an interesting thought.

 

npr:

It was an ordinary Friday. Courtney Brown, 24, of Kalamazoo, Mich., was busy looking for a job. “I’ve applied all kinds of places,” she says. “Wal-Mart, Target, Verizon Wireless.”
Then she got a strange letter in the mail. “‘We are writing you with good news,’” she reads to me over the phone. “‘We got rid of some of your Everest College debt … no one should be forced to mortgage their future for an education.’”
The letter went on to say that her private student loan from a for-profit college, in the amount of $790.05, had just been forgiven outright by something called the Rolling Jubilee.
Since November 2012, Rolling Jubilee has purchased and eradicated about $15 million worth of debt arising from unpaid medical bills. Today, the group announced that it has erased $3.9 million in private student loans, including Courtney Brown’s and almost 3,000 other students of the for-profit Everest College.
These People Can Make Student Loans Disappear
Illustration credit: LA Johnson/NPR

npr:

It was an ordinary Friday. Courtney Brown, 24, of Kalamazoo, Mich., was busy looking for a job. “I’ve applied all kinds of places,” she says. “Wal-Mart, Target, Verizon Wireless.”

Then she got a strange letter in the mail. “‘We are writing you with good news,’” she reads to me over the phone. “‘We got rid of some of your Everest College debt … no one should be forced to mortgage their future for an education.’”

The letter went on to say that her private student loan from a for-profit college, in the amount of $790.05, had just been forgiven outright by something called the Rolling Jubilee.

Since November 2012, Rolling Jubilee has purchased and eradicated about $15 million worth of debt arising from unpaid medical bills. Today, the group announced that it has erased $3.9 million in private student loans, including Courtney Brown’s and almost 3,000 other students of the for-profit Everest College.

These People Can Make Student Loans Disappear

Illustration credit: LA Johnson/NPR

jumpingjacktrash:

naamahdarling:

howtonotsuckatgamedesign:

mirrepp:

Some harsh but very very true words

When people let me review their portfolios (on career day or open days at my game design school) I explicitly ban them from commenting during the review… …because otherwise they will follow the impulse to downplay everything I see in an attempt at being humble."this is an old image…"
"I’m not happy with that one…""this is just a sketch…"
"I did this really quickly…""there is better stuff on later pages…"It’s totally understandable to have those impulses. The quality of art is not empirical data and therefore impossible to measure. Good art, bad art, it all comes down to standards. And you don’t want to come off as naive or self-absorbed.But just don’t do it. Don’t talk yourself down in front of others. In the best case you have someone supportive who now thinks “damn, this person needs to be prepped up all the time. Do I really want to work with somebody like that” or in worst case “now that you say it, yeah, this is kinda lame/rushed/unfinished/lazy, go away.”You can only submit what you have. If that is not enough, then it’s not enough. Your attitude will not change that. But if it is enough, you can do serious harm by not being confident of who you are now.This means appreciating what you are able to do right now and have a clear vision of what you want to learn, be confident that you will learn it in time. Be proud.

This is really important.  Eliminate this urge.  Eliminate it professionally, when having contact with people in a position to buy your work.  Eliminate it socially, when you just share your work for fun.  Destroy this urge as thoroughly as you possibly can.
Because when you have done that, you’ll find that you feel at least 25% less shitty about your own work.  You lose the urge to do it.  You stop reinforcing those negative thoughts, and they retreat.  They may never go away completely (although they might!) but this is good practice for ignoring those thoughts flat-out.
Don’t shit-talk yourself.  Even if you can’t be SO PROUD, don’t ever try to influence anyone’s opinion toward your work in the negative.
Try to love your work.  Try to see what you learned from each piece, even if it’s a failure.  If you feel that you learned nothing, appreciate the fact that just spending time on it is honing your skills and giving you valuable practice.
i used to be super not-confident in my own work.  When I stopped pointing out the flaws in my own stuff, I felt better about it almost immediately.

it’s been at least 5 years, i think, since i allowed myself to say anything about my work more negative than “that one’s not up to my standard now but i’m proud of how much i learned while doing it.”
in that time, absolutely no one has been offended by my self-confidence or liked my work less because i wasn’t ‘humble’ about it. no one has tried to take me down a peg or punish me for being happy.
i know that a lot of us, in childhood, had bad experiences with parents, teachers, or others telling us we were ‘showing off’ or ‘getting a swelled head’ or ‘getting too big for your britches’ if we showed any pride in ourselves. that was WRONG and it’s a thing we need to get over, not something to carry into adulthood.
i had one teacher who spent the entire year looking for opportunities to chew me out in front of the whole class for “thinking you’re better than everyone else” whenever i did well at something. that wasn’t a life lesson on humility. that was emotional abuse. i’m willing to bet a lot of y’all who feel panicky if anyone can tell you’re proud are coming from similar situations. FIGHT IT. you deserve the credit for your hard work.

jumpingjacktrash:

naamahdarling:

howtonotsuckatgamedesign:

mirrepp:

Some harsh but very very true words

When people let me review their portfolios (on career day or open days at my game design school) I explicitly ban them from commenting during the review… …because otherwise they will follow the impulse to downplay everything I see in an attempt at being humble.

"this is an old image…"

"I’m not happy with that one…"

"this is just a sketch…"

"I did this really quickly…"

"there is better stuff on later pages…"

It’s totally understandable to have those impulses. The quality of art is not empirical data and therefore impossible to measure. Good art, bad art, it all comes down to standards. And you don’t want to come off as naive or self-absorbed.

But just don’t do it. Don’t talk yourself down in front of others. In the best case you have someone supportive who now thinks “damn, this person needs to be prepped up all the time. Do I really want to work with somebody like that” or in worst case “now that you say it, yeah, this is kinda lame/rushed/unfinished/lazy, go away.”

You can only submit what you have. If that is not enough, then it’s not enough. Your attitude will not change that. But if it is enough, you can do serious harm by not being confident of who you are now.

This means appreciating what you are able to do right now and have a clear vision of what you want to learn, be confident that you will learn it in time. 

Be proud.




This is really important.  Eliminate this urge.  Eliminate it professionally, when having contact with people in a position to buy your work.  Eliminate it socially, when you just share your work for fun.  Destroy this urge as thoroughly as you possibly can.

Because when you have done that, you’ll find that you feel at least 25% less shitty about your own work.  You lose the urge to do it.  You stop reinforcing those negative thoughts, and they retreat.  They may never go away completely (although they might!) but this is good practice for ignoring those thoughts flat-out.

Don’t shit-talk yourself.  Even if you can’t be SO PROUD, don’t ever try to influence anyone’s opinion toward your work in the negative.

Try to love your work.  Try to see what you learned from each piece, even if it’s a failure.  If you feel that you learned nothing, appreciate the fact that just spending time on it is honing your skills and giving you valuable practice.

i used to be super not-confident in my own work.  When I stopped pointing out the flaws in my own stuff, I felt better about it almost immediately.

it’s been at least 5 years, i think, since i allowed myself to say anything about my work more negative than “that one’s not up to my standard now but i’m proud of how much i learned while doing it.”

in that time, absolutely no one has been offended by my self-confidence or liked my work less because i wasn’t ‘humble’ about it. no one has tried to take me down a peg or punish me for being happy.

i know that a lot of us, in childhood, had bad experiences with parents, teachers, or others telling us we were ‘showing off’ or ‘getting a swelled head’ or ‘getting too big for your britches’ if we showed any pride in ourselves. that was WRONG and it’s a thing we need to get over, not something to carry into adulthood.

i had one teacher who spent the entire year looking for opportunities to chew me out in front of the whole class for “thinking you’re better than everyone else” whenever i did well at something. that wasn’t a life lesson on humility. that was emotional abuse. i’m willing to bet a lot of y’all who feel panicky if anyone can tell you’re proud are coming from similar situations. FIGHT IT. you deserve the credit for your hard work.

Black parenting is often too authoritative. White parenting is often too permissive. Both need to change.

In college, I once found myself on the D.C. metro with one of my favorite professors. As we were riding, a young white child began to climb on the seats and hang from the bars of the train. His mother never moved to restrain him. But I began to see the very familiar, strained looks of disdain and dismay on the countenances of the mostly black passengers. They exchanged eye contact with one another, dispositions tight with annoyance at the audacity of this white child, but mostly at the refusal of his mother to act as a disciplinarian. I, too, was appalled. I thought, if that were my child, I would snatch him down and tell him to sit his little behind in a seat immediately. My professor took the opportunity to teach: ‘Do you see how this child feels the prerogative to roam freely in this train, unhindered by rules or regulations or propriety?’

'Yes,' I nodded. “What kinds of messages do you think are being communicated to him right now about how he should move through the world?”

And I began to understand, quite starkly, in that moment, the freedom that white children have to see the world as a place that they can explore, a place in which they can sit, or stand, or climb at will. The world, they are learning, is theirs for the taking.

Then I thought about what it means to parent a black child, any black child, in similar circumstances. I think of the swiftness with which a black mother would have ushered her child into a seat, with firm looks and not a little a scolding, the implied if unspoken threat of either a grounding or a whupping, if her request were not immediately met with compliance. So much is wrapped up in that moment: a desire to demonstrate that one’s black child is well-behaved, non-threatening, well-trained. Disciplined. I think of the centuries of imminent fear that have shaped and contoured African-American working-class cultures of discipline, the sternness of our mothers’ and grandmothers’ looks, the firmness of the belts and switches applied to our hind parts, the rhythmic, loving, painful scoldings accompanying spankings as if the messages could be imprinted on our bodies with a sure and swift and repetitive show of force.

I think with fond memories of the big tree that grew in my grandmother’s yard, with branches that were the perfect size for switches. I hear her booming and shrill voice now, commanding, “Go and pick a switch.” I laugh when I remember that she cut that tree down once we were all past the age of switches.

And then I turn to Adrian Peterson. Not even a year ago, Peterson’s 2-year-old son, whom he did not know, was murdered by his son’s mother’s boyfriend. More recently, Adrian Peterson has been charged with negligent injury to a child, for hitting his 4-year-old son with a switch, in a disciplinary episode that left the child with bruises and open cuts on his hands, legs, buttocks and scrotum.

http://jellyfishdirigible.tumblr.com/post/97926473036/evilsoutherngentleman-gwenlightened

evilsoutherngentleman:

gwenlightened:

rainekitty:

medschool-thenbabies:

Telling your son not to “be such a girl” lets his sister who overhears the conversation know that being a girl is not a good thing and she should be sorry and ashamed of herself.

It also reminds your…

hobbitkaiju:

immortaltrash:

when you remember something embarrassing you did 6 years ago

image

GPOY except replace “pigeon” with “dragon”

(Source: lesandmiserable)

twinpersonalitys:

ironychan:

redcaplf:

… Clockodiles? Is that pun very bad?

CLOCKODILES.

somewhere captain hook is shitting himself

twinpersonalitys:

ironychan:

redcaplf:

… Clockodiles? Is that pun very bad?

CLOCKODILES.

somewhere captain hook is shitting himself

tenyearsapeasant:

ximen:

potofsoup:

tenyearsapeasant:

So, our dad wrote a book about the ten years he spent in the countryside of Jiangxi province during the Chinese Cultural Revolution.  It’s a series of small stories in Chinese.  Here we will attempt to translate them into English.  Our goal is to post a new translation every 2 weeks.
If you already read Chinese, you can download the original book at his website.

Apologies for the not-fandom post, but in case you’re interested in short stories about Chinese village life during the Chinese Cultural Revolution, my brother and I are starting to translate our dad’s book. We’ll be posting 3k words every 2 weeks or so. I just translated the foreword.Anyway, follow tenyearsapeasant if it’s something of interest???(Sorry no sad boys kissing. None. My mom does show up though. And my dad almost dies 3 times. There’s also a lot of tractors.)

I’ve heard a lot of these stories from potofsoup over the years and they are always interesting.
If you haven’t studied Chinese history, you might not know that during the Cultural Revolution, millions of teenagers were sent out of the cities and into the countryside, where they were supposed to learn from the peasants. One day you’re in high school, then suddenly you’re packing up, leaving your family, and moving out to the boonies to try and be a farmer. (Admittedly, the “in high school” part wasn’t exactly normal either, unless you too can denounce and possibly kill your high school teachers as class traitors if they assign too much homework.) Anyway, these teenagers had to somehow learn enough farming to keep themselves alive, and also avoid political pitfalls. When they had been in 10th grade not long before. They gave up their urban residence permits when they left, so they couldn’t move back to the cities— it was illegal, it would have marked them as traitors and made them subject to mob violence, even if they could avoid arrest, and since urban food was rationed and only available for people who held urban residence permits, they would have starved anyway. 
Ten years later, these no-longer-teenagers were allowed back into the cities, and they had to try and figure out what to do with their lives. For many of them, it was their first chance to see their parents in a decade. They were now in their twenties, with little or no high school education or job training (except for farming) in a country that was rapidly removing its social safety net. For anyone to pull together a successful career out of this is impressive, and I am constantly amazed by all the people I know from this generation who have managed to become successful academics, educators, and business owners. potofsoup's mom is an expert in math education, and she and potofsoup's dad run a Chinese school and textbook empire. They are cool people, and if you are at all interested in modern Chinese history, OR just stories of smart people in a pretty crazy situation, you should definitely follow this tumblr. 

Many thanks to ximen for the helpful historical context!

tenyearsapeasant:

ximen:

potofsoup:

tenyearsapeasant:

So, our dad wrote a book about the ten years he spent in the countryside of Jiangxi province during the Chinese Cultural Revolution.  It’s a series of small stories in Chinese.  Here we will attempt to translate them into English.  Our goal is to post a new translation every 2 weeks.

If you already read Chinese, you can download the original book at his website.

Apologies for the not-fandom post, but in case you’re interested in short stories about Chinese village life during the Chinese Cultural Revolution, my brother and I are starting to translate our dad’s book. We’ll be posting 3k words every 2 weeks or so. I just translated the foreword.

Anyway, follow tenyearsapeasant if it’s something of interest???

(Sorry no sad boys kissing. None. My mom does show up though. And my dad almost dies 3 times. There’s also a lot of tractors.)

I’ve heard a lot of these stories from potofsoup over the years and they are always interesting.

If you haven’t studied Chinese history, you might not know that during the Cultural Revolution, millions of teenagers were sent out of the cities and into the countryside, where they were supposed to learn from the peasants. One day you’re in high school, then suddenly you’re packing up, leaving your family, and moving out to the boonies to try and be a farmer. (Admittedly, the “in high school” part wasn’t exactly normal either, unless you too can denounce and possibly kill your high school teachers as class traitors if they assign too much homework.) Anyway, these teenagers had to somehow learn enough farming to keep themselves alive, and also avoid political pitfalls. When they had been in 10th grade not long before. They gave up their urban residence permits when they left, so they couldn’t move back to the cities— it was illegal, it would have marked them as traitors and made them subject to mob violence, even if they could avoid arrest, and since urban food was rationed and only available for people who held urban residence permits, they would have starved anyway. 

Ten years later, these no-longer-teenagers were allowed back into the cities, and they had to try and figure out what to do with their lives. For many of them, it was their first chance to see their parents in a decade. They were now in their twenties, with little or no high school education or job training (except for farming) in a country that was rapidly removing its social safety net. For anyone to pull together a successful career out of this is impressive, and I am constantly amazed by all the people I know from this generation who have managed to become successful academics, educators, and business owners. potofsoup's mom is an expert in math education, and she and potofsoup's dad run a Chinese school and textbook empire. They are cool people, and if you are at all interested in modern Chinese history, OR just stories of smart people in a pretty crazy situation, you should definitely follow this tumblr. 

Many thanks to ximen for the helpful historical context!

deducecanoe:

leseanthomas:

With a booming economy in Nigeria and more black children than anywhere else in the world, Taofick Okoya was dismayed when he could not find a black doll for his niece.

The 43-year-old spotted a gap in the market and, with little competition from foreign firms such as Mattel Inc, the maker of Barbie, he set up his own business. He outsourced manufacturing of doll parts to low-cost China, assembled them onshore and added a twist – traditional Nigerian costumes.

The dolls represent Nigeria’s three largest Ethnic Groups; Hausa, Igbo and Yoruba so far.

Seven years on, Okoya sells between 6,000 and 9,000 of his Queens of Africa and Naija Princesses a month, and reckons he has 10-15% of a small but fast-growing market.

"I like it," says Ifunanya Odiah, five, struggling to contain her excitement as she inspects one of Okoya’s dolls in a Lagos shopping mall. "It’s black, like me.”

Like Barbies, Okoya’s dolls are slim, despite the fact that much of Africa abhors the western ideal of stick-thin models. Okoya says his early templates were larger bodied, and the kids did not like them.

But he hopes to change that. “For now, we have to hide behind the ‘normal’ doll. Once we’ve built the brand, we can make dolls with bigger bodies.”

SOURCE: http://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2014/jan/15/barbie-nigeria-queen-africa-dolls-mattel-toymaker

This is so cool.

highs0ciety:

arabbara:

R.I.P. The 2976 American people that lost their lives on 9/11 and R.I.P. the 48,644 Afghan and 1,690,903 Iraqi and 35000 Pakistani people that paid the ultimate price for a crime they did not commit

this is the only september 11th post I’m reblogging