Future - Blog Posts

this exactly represents the office.

mostly my career goals are to hang out with friends and do whatever is funniest in the moment. hope that helps

An open letter to future me:

Alright. Here we go. I'm a bit nervous to write this, because if I know myself right now, you are just waiting to read this and cringe at it. I'm sorry. I hope you aren't mad at me.

First of all, self, I know right now I have absolutely no hope and no self esteem for any bright future, but I have a feeling, a singular feeling, that you're going to go far. Maybe not me, but you. I hope you remember me, though. It's okay if you leave me behind. Change is necessary, but don't forget what was once here. Never let me fade away from your mind. Let me strengthen you. And let me remind you to heal and comfort the shattered child inside of you. She needs you. Her fight with her demons is slowly failing. She needs you to protect you. I need you to protect me. I need you to protect yourself. Draw your sword, your bow, and call upon your heart and please - come save us.

Save yourself. But save everyone else too. Save everyone you can. You might not be able to save everyone, and that's okay, but you tried. You tried. You tried so hard. I know. And it's okay. Breathe. It's okay. You tried.

Saving other people has been such a big fear and big strength of yours. I think you knew that you'd never be able to save yourself, so you tried to save everyone else, and when you couldn't, you blamed yourself. You must try to save yourself before you can try to save anyone. Trust me. You are still worth saving. You still can be saved. I promise.

This war within yourself, it has yet to be completed. There has to be a white flag somewhere, right? There has to be peace somewhere. Every war has an ending. Don't give up. The war will be over soon. I give my heart and hope to you. I give you my swords, but I hope you find a way to put your demons to rest without violence. Your demons will transform into something more beautiful. You only have to learn how to heal them too, as you are healing yourself. Your scars may stay the way they came, but they are not a reminder of your present or future. They will heal emotionally, not physically. They are your reminder that you are a warrior; a fighter. You can get through this. You got through that, this is no different. You are not your scars. You are not your past. You can do anything you dream of. Pull yourself together, kiddo. Paint a smile, a true one. You got this.

Your friends? They are your everything. But - you are my everything too. The love you show everyone else? I equally feel that for you and more. I love you. So, so much. I am so proud of you. You deserve every great thing in this world. You may be a mess, but your my mess, and I promise you, this mess is a painting. Some just need to look closer. Don't you dare care what anyone else thinks about you. You are a pretty awesome person. A pretty darn great one. You are trying to be a better person everyday, and that is what counts. You try to be better - you try to change for the better everyday. I love you for that. You may not be perfect, and that is okay. I'm not going to tell you to stop reaching for perfection, but don't be hard on yourself. You are getting better everyday. I am so proud of you. I'm proud. I'm proud. I'm proud. Screw the others who never told you that. Screw the others who never loved you. Screw them. I love you. And I frickin care about you. So much. I miss you, too. In every way.

You are worth it. You are loved. You are so much more than you think you are. You are so strong. And to those who said you could never, prove them wrong. Prove them all wrong. I promise you, you will do everything you want. You have time to become the person you want to be. You have time. Change is scary, believe me, we used to fear it, but change is so good and so necessary. Embrace it. Embrace this world everytime you get. Embrace my words. When no one else loves you, I'll be here. I'll always love you, because I know deep down, even if you hate me, I know you still love me. That's why we're alive. We're giving each other chances. That's what is important. This life is worth living. This game is worth playing. Remember me. Remember this letter. Remember my words. They will stick.

Your friends are so important to you, but I want you to know that everything you have said to them, I say back to you. Look in the mirror and smile, my friend. Please. Do it for me. Because whoever looks back at you is enough. Look down at your hands. You are enough. Through every broken crack, you are enough. Let the light overtake you. Let the happiness seep in a illuminate your whole. I give you what is mine, take my heart, my soul, carefully heal yourself with your needle. Stitch yourself back together. Unfold your wings. It's time to soar. And it's time to let go.

Take care of our friends for me, okay? Tell them I love them. And I miss them. Tell them those words everyday. Spend time with them. Forgive people who wrong you and defend what you believe is right. Regret nothing. Absolutely nothing. Live your life the way you want to, not the way they pressure you to.

I hope you've gotten out of your bad situation. I hope you don't turn back. I hope you've gotten into that one relationship you were dying for. I hope you love that person with your whole heart. I hope they are your soulmate. I hope that they give you the love that you deserve. I hope you heal everyone you come in contact with. I hope you give them everything you hav, but leave love for yourself. I hope you talk about your problems and start a much needed conversation. I hope you meet those artist and poet people that you've been dying to have conversations with. I hope you have deep conversations at midnight. I hope your friends come and visit you. I hope you can have those really cool sleepovers at your own house. I hope you get your dream house. I hope you become everything you want to be.

I hope you make so many memories that you are overfilled with joy.

I hope you give yourself everything you deserve.

To all of the heartbreaks and to all of the scars we still have. To past me, present me, and future me, and to the friends who have shaped us,

Future self, you are doing great. I love you.

- Past me

Unilever- why bring a child into the world? (originally posted in 2014 or 2015)

3d printed flower from"Mazzo di Fiori" Kickstarter project by Joshua Harker.

Wayward Vagabond

part of me wants to become a pianist, elegant and poised wearing long light pink skirts on a daily basis, and kitten heels, and can perfect my craft for hours on end. part of me wants to become an author who can spin stories from lost things, and snuggle up with my notebooks and tea and sweaters and just dream of worlds that i wasnt meant to live in but i could share.  part of me wants to become a rebel and wear black leather jackets while reading angsty poetry, chop my hair short and fight for what matters to me, the kind of person who doesn’t care what others think of them as long as a point has been made.  So.  I don’t know what I want to do.  But whatever I do, I can assure you that I will not be boring.

Sharpshooter

Chapter 1

Warnings: None (for now)

My grandparents say that I was born in an unfortunate time. They always tell me about the old world, where we were allowed to go outside and breathe cool, fresh air, without the inconvenience of having to wear a cooling suit just to prevent ourselves from roasting in the heat. I don't believe them. For me, these are all just stories. Stories of a world long gone. 

"8 billion people used to live on Earth, you believe that?" my grandparents always ask, laughing slightly as if they don't believe it themselves. I definitely don't believe that. There's only 700 million people left on this doomed planet.

Some of my friends-wait, I only have one, tells me about how the richer people get transported to Mars while us poorer, starving ones, stay on Earth and wait for our chance to die.

Usually, when my grandparents launch into a full-on rant about the world before, I roll my eyes and slip on sunglasses just to hide the fact that I'll be sleeping for the next hour or so. These stories are meaningless to me. There's no point in clinging on to the past, when I have a family to take care of.

We used to live in Singapore. Sea levels were rising so much that the few transports that remained on Earth brought us to the interior regions of North America, at least the ones that haven't gone underwater yet. That's where I met my good friend, and eventually, scavenging partner, Mayday. He's about a head taller than me, and I'm already considered tall for a girl my age. He's got short black hair. Just like mine. And just like the other 300 million or so kids. Mayday told me that his parents named him that because they're trying to call out to the authorities for help, to bring them to Mars. It hasn't worked for the past 13 years of his life, and I don't think it'll work anytime soon.

Me and Mayday's families are quite close as well. We usually share whatever little food Mayday and I scavenged that day with each other, to ensure that we don't starve to death. 

On one of our scavenging trips, I find a knife and a blaster pistol. The knife's a bit blunt, but it's sharp enough to stab through dead fish or whatever I find in the ruins of the houses that are flooded to my waist. 

Everyone knows the stories of what happens to houses that get flooded. They get abandoned, and whatever wildlife that has managed to adapt to the temperatures tears them up, sometimes leaving nothing behind. 

After spending about a few months in North America, even with the cooling suits on, the air temperature has become too high. Mayday and I can only spend an hour, maximum, outside scavenging before we start to get burns and it gets hard to breathe.

The air conditioning in the "houses" that the authorities give us barely works. I can't even call those things that we live in houses. They're more of a group of tents sewed together and protected by a ray shield, which is the reason why we call the place we live in the Dome. It provides air conditioning, at least, for a few hours a day. The rest of the time, we rely on that limited cooling cream that Mayday and I scavenge to prevent ourselves from roasting to death.

We've been living like this for a few months now. None of us are getting used to it. We have one small screen in the only small area where tents aren't clumped together to watch the news. Usually, the one that stands in front of the small screen shouts the news out to everyone else crowding around.

Today, I squeeze my way through the crowd, it's easy because of my small size, and I make my way towards the screen, getting a good view. There, I see face of the man that always appears on the news when something important is going on, but I never remember his name because I have more important things to focus on.

The image of a globe projects onto the screen, and the man on the television turns the hologram of the globe until it shows a brown landmass.

"Antarctica," the man says. "We will be moving all inhabitants on Earth here. The temperatures here are lower than the ones around the world, so..."

I slip away from the screen and back into the crowd. I hear the people near the screen shouting what the man on the screen just said, and people are muttering excitedly, some cheering. I hate it when this happens. So much noise. I run away, pushing past people, back to my house where I tell them the news.

"The authorities say they're moving us to Antarctica," I say the moment I run into the tent, my breathing slightly heavy from the running. Mayday's in the tent as well, rubbing the ankle that he sprained on yesterday's scavenging trip. My family and Mayday all look up at me, before my family starts to cheer and Mayday remains silent.

I sit down next to him. "How's your ankle?"

"Could be better," he replies, and I definitely know something's wrong. He'd usually crack a joke or something.

"Nervous about going to Antarctica?"

Mayday nods, and I pat him on the shoulder. "That means new territory to scavenge stuff, which means there's definitely some fresh loot there."

Mayday looks up at me. "Antarctica's a barren desert. There's nothing there to scavenge."

"We'll find something," I try to sound confident, but after the stories I've heard of Antarctica, there's only a sliver of hope that Mayday and I could scavenge anything there. Antarctica's also full of wild animals. The ones that managed to get to Antarctica, at least. They're the real danger out there.

The next few days, transports descend from the sky and bring people to Antarctica in a matter of minutes. I'm guessing the transports are from Mars. The advanced technology there lets them travel fast. Really fast.

My family and Mayday's board the last transports after packing everything up. There's not much to pack, besides some of the old ration bars I found a few days ago and those gummies that hydrate us. Authorities give us about three of those per person every month, so we have to ration them. Can't forget about the cooling cream either.

When we enter the transport, we're greeted with a blast of cold air. Is this what Antarctica feels like? I'm shivering slightly from the cold, and it looks like everyone else is too. We're not used to this kind of temperature.

It's really cramped in here. I count about a hundred families with us. I hear murmurings going on in the crowd, and I'm pushed right next to Mayday.

We stand there in awkward silence, and I start sweating, somehow. It's not because of the temperature. Large crowds just make me nervous, and Mayday knows that. He puts a hand on my shoulder reassuringly, and I give him a small nod.

Thankfully, we aren't in the transport for long. In a matter of minutes, the doors open and everyone rushes out. My family and Mayday's are the last to walk out, with a lot of hesitation. 

The air is fresh. Cooling. Devoid of that burning smell of the ground. I scan the surroundings, and so does Mayday. Rugged terrain, with gorges that go so deep that if anyone fell in from above they would definitely die. The sky is navy blue. Clear. Cloudless. Not like the smoke-filled skies of North America.

We stand on a platform that descends into a deep gorge, where I see buildings. Not tents clustered together, actual buildings. They're inside a ray shield, just like the Dome, and I can only guess that it's not to protect us from the heat, but from the wildlife.

After we enter through a hole in the ray shield, it closes up behind us and we are, once again, in a crowd of people. There's a big screen, which everyone is looking at, and it's projecting the image of another man, who's dressed in what my grandparents would call a suit, even though I could not possibly imagine why someone would want to wear such a suffocating piece of clothing.

"You are safe here now, in Antarctica," the man says, and I start hearing people talking again. The man waits until everyone is silent before continuing. "No one goes in or out of the ray shield unless given specific permission to do so."

Mayday and I glance at each other with a knowing look.

"Enjoy your stay here, and good luck."

Good luck? What does he mean by good luck? 

As the crowd disperses and authorities lead others to their respective buildings, I turn to Mayday, and he turns to me.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

Short story: 13

Good soldiers follow orders.

I see war. Death. Flames everywhere as explosions go off around me, but I'm surprisingly unscathed. Flying jets whizz past me through the air to attack enemy bombers. I'm standing there hesitantly, the hands holding my semi-automatic blaster shaking from the adrenaline rush. I've been here many times before. The outcome is the same every time.

Good soldiers follow orders.

Order 13. Fight to the death. No surrender.

It's like my body is on autopilot and I'm watching from behind a screen. I charge into the raging battle, shooting at enemies, my aim surprisingly good compared to during basic training. Grenades rain down upon the battlefield, dying screams of humans and aliens alike filling my ears. My body shows no signs of discomfort but in my mind, I'm trying to cover my ears to block out the sound.

An enemy bomber travels over my head, dropping its bombs in the process. I've been here too many times. I know what's going to happen. I close my eyes.

The sounds of explosions are almost deafening. The bombs drop down right next to me, exploding upon contact. The force pushes me backwards as the heat of flames engulf me. The sounds fade, my eyes still closed.

It's ending.

My eyes flutter open as I find myself in the comfort of my bed. I let out a soft groan as I get up. Apps appear in front of my eyes as I scroll through them, looking for the app that tracks my sleep. I open it and the screen projects in front of me, showing my sleep quality, restlessness and periods of REM and deep sleep. The statistics displayed are the usual. Restless throughout the whole night and sleep quality was absolutely terrible. I've been having these nightmares lately. It's not something I can control. The control chips in our heads are supposed to prevent that. We get to select our dreams before we sleep. Yet mine are different. I select dreams of Star Wars. All I get are nightmares of a battle which I've never seen before. It's not Star Wars. The technology is similar, but there's no Earth in that universe. My nightmares are of war on Earth.

My chip must be malfunctioning. That's not good. It's implanted into every human's brain so if it malfunctions, it would probably interfere with our primary brain functions, hence killing us. But I'm not dead yet.

I head into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. The image of my parents peacefully sleeping in their bedroom projects in front of me. I managed to gain access to the security camera in their bedroom, so I can see when they wake up.

I prepare my breakfast and eat it in silence, monitoring my parents in their bedroom through the projection. After finishing my breakfast and making sure my parents are still asleep, I head out of the door and run next door to find my neighbour, Mayday. Just when I reach his house, Mayday's already outside, waiting for me. I give him a nod and he nods back.

We head out into the forest near our house. I switch off the projecting function on my chip so that I won't be distracted by any notifications I receive on the walk.

As we walk into the forest, light shines through the canopy of leaves, creating patches of light here and there. I jump from one patch to another, laughing as Mayday follows behind me.

Suddenly, I hear a whistling sound cutting through the air and then a loud boom. My head jerks in the direction of the sound. I turn the projecting function on my chip back on and in my head, I order the chip to show me where the sound came from.

Similar sounds follow the first one as the image of an unfamiliar aircraft dropping bombs down on another nearby housing area projects in front of me. Mayday catches up with me. "What is it?"

"Bombs," I reply simply.

Another boom echoes through the forest, but much louder this time. The bombs must be getting closer. There's a sickening feeling in my stomach as the volume of the sounds just keeps increasing.

I take off running into the forest, away from the direction of the bombing sounds. Mayday quickly follows. My legs feel like they're flying under me as my adrenaline pushes me to keep running. My heart feels like it's going to explode as I dash back to me and Mayday's housing area.

When we reach back, I'm panting heavily as I sprint to my house, where my parents are already waiting for me to come back, looking very worried. The moment they see me they quickly force me inside the house without a word.

The bombing sounds continue for a few more minutes until silence. That's when the order comes in.

Execute order 13.

Every human is to immediately head to the weapons point in each of their housing estates and gather at a military base. An unidentified species has attacked multiple housing areas and are currently sending ground soldiers to kill any survivors. Fight to the death. No surrender.

My parents seem to have gotten the order too as their heads perk up, just like mine.

Good soldiers follow orders.

I feel like I'm going to vomit. I can almost imagine the battlefield. I've seen it many times before in my nightmares.

I feel like I'm watching through a screen now as my body picks itself up from the floor and walks out of the door, my parents following alongside me, and every other human in my housing area, except Mayday and his parents. I try to force myself to stop walking, stop walking towards certain death.

As my body walks itself to the weapons point at our housing estates, I can see Mayday running up to me and asking me what's going on. I try to shout, "Help me!" but nothing comes out of my mouth as my body stares blankly ahead, still walking.

Mayday shakes my shoulders. I can feel it. As much as I want to respond to him, to run away with him, my body simply won't allow it.

Mayday's parents come up to me as well, and drag me away. My body struggles desperately with considerable strength that I didn't even know I had, but was probably activated by the chip. My limbs thrash around wildly as I try to escape Mayday's parents' grip. They drag me to their house, and lead me into a basement, where a few people are already there, I assume they're friends of Mayday and his parents.

Then, I feel Mayday's parents strapping me to a table connected to a machine. My body is still struggling against the restraints as I feel the prick of a needle against my neck, and everything goes black.

When I wake up, I'm not watching myself through a screen anymore. My vision is blurry as I move my hand to see if I'm in control of my own body now. My hand moves ever so slightly as my vision starts to clear up.

I let out a soft groan as I sit up on the table, my restraints were taken off at some point, apparently. I try to project the screen of what's going on outside in front of me, but I can't. They've taken my chip out.

Mayday runs over and throws his arms around me, and I hug back ever so slightly. "You're back!" he laughs as he lets go of me. "We thought you weren't going to make it, you weren't waking up..."

I silently nod, scanning the room. It's dimly lit by a singular lamp, and there are around seven people in there. My parents included. Mayday and his parents must've saved them too.

Suddenly, I hear the sounds of bombings above me. The lamp in the room flickers and shakes.

"Let's go. We can't save any more. They're all at the military base, they'll be armed," Mayday's mother says. All of us quickly run up from the basement. Mayday's house is in ruins. But that's the least of our worries right now. Bombs are being dropped a few kilometers from us, I can feel the force of the explosion hitting me.

We quickly run into the forest to take shelter. They won't attack the forest. There's no humans here to kill, at least up till now. We keep running, deep into the forest until the sounds of bombings are faint and barely audible.

When we stop, I slump against a tree, breathing heavily.

"What now?" I manage to ask in between gasps for air.

Everyone looks at each other, as if they want to ask the same question.

Mayday's father speaks up.

"We hide, I guess. At least until the war is over. We won't be attacked here. We're safe."

I hear the faint sound of bombings again.

Safe? I hope so.

"OK enough Mikey, my turn, my turn ! Im expecting BIG things for me !

How many Nobel prizes do i have ?

No dont tell me i wanna be surprised !"

"Donnatelo...you were the smartest person i ever knew"

"Well that sound right- im sorry "were" ?

As in ...past tens ?"

"Did something happen to me in the futur ?

Do i ....do i...die ?"

"Every end marks a new beginning. Keep your spirits and determination unshaken, and you shall always walk the glory road. With courage, faith and great effort, you shall achieve everything you desire." I wish you all a happy new year! 🎉🎊 Let's make this year another memorable on! ♡ #newyear #newyearseve #neuesjahr #newyearnewchances #2017 #memories #future #newyear2017

Gloria, I wanna take you to euphoria

University of Uppsala September 2024

2050:

A girl sighs, flopping down on her bed, LED lights cover it. She swears she was born in the wrong generation, turning her head to gaze at the Chappell Roan poster on her wall. Next to it, a Taylor Swift album cover. Today somebody asked her, “Who’s Billie Eilish?” When she asked her mom about if she used to listen to her, a faint smile crossed her face, and she chuckled, whispering, “why aren’t you scared of me, why don’t you run from me, what do you know?” Under her breath.

In 2035,

Great United States of America is ruled by AI.

You can't pay a fine to a machine or something.

Freedom warriors begin to rebel.

I created a simple image with stable diffusion and then composited it in Photoshop. It was a fun job.

original ai image

Nature♥

Hope and hopelessness

Feeling Revolutionary is feeling that our current situation is not enough [...]. Feeling revolutionary opens up the space to imagine a collective escape [...]. Practicing educated hope, participating in a mode of revolutionary consciousness, [...] is the enactment of a critique function. It is not about announcing the way things ought to be, but, instead, imagining what things could be.

Duggan, L., & Muñoz, J. E. (2009). Hope and hopelessness: A dialogue. Women & Performance: A Journal of Feminist Theory, 19(2), 275–283. https://doi.org/10.1080/07407700903064946

Travelling to other solar systems is not as far away as you might think...

Flying car update.

Flying cars are coming soon, yes really. Flying cars are no longer restricted to the realms of science fiction. Check out our article on the flying cars currently under development.

AeroMobil, 2018. The latest version of AeroMobil’s flying car has been presented at the Frankfurt Motor Show with first deliveries promised for 2020. On the ground, it is powered by an electric front wheel drive system which gives a range of 700 km, after a three minute conversion, the AeroMobil is ready for flight where it is powered by a turbocharged 2.0-liter four-cylinder boxer engine

Pop.Up, 2017, by Airbus and Italdesign. A concept for an autonomous multi-modal transportation system 

Visit our website

Is your job at risk from robots and artificial intelligence? Watch this video to find out more or visit our website: https://knowledgeiskey.co.uk/articles/job-automation

Artificial Intelligence and Robotics are booming at the moment, soon Robots will start replacing humans at work, is your job at risk?

Robot driver coming soon!

Imagine Taking an Uber with a Robot Driver. We’re Not Far Off http://futurism.com/imagine-taking-an-uber-with-a-robot-driver-were-not-far-off/?utm_campaign=coschedule&utm_source=tumblr&utm_medium=futurismnews&utm_content=Imagine%20Taking%20an%20Uber%20with%20a%20Robot%20Driver.%20We%27re%20Not%20Far%20Off

"Life is good eheh.."🍟 Actual sketch about my vanny story tho,inspired from Life is good by Future and Drake clip. Me and my bro @weeb_mememaster are making fries at Mcdonald rn. . . #anime #commissionopen #arts #animegirls #anime #animestyle #art #artwork #portrait #drawing #digitalart #digitalportrait #chibi #future #otakuworld #manga #otaku #kawaiidrawing #kawaii kawaiigirl #mangaart #rapus #artist #sketch #rap #mcdonalds #drake #oc #animedrawing #dessin #dessins #fastfood (à McDonald's) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCUDvAtpvec/?igshid=wuztijb542f6

@collapsedsquid:

That's part of it but I see radicals echo's Marx's classic "I'm not gonna provide a recipe" comment

Maybe more leftists should provide recipes, not only to guide governments in power but to also provide insurance just in case those governments start making bad decisions-”they didn’t provide fair trials/demolish the nuclear arsenal/etc so we’re no longer responsible for their sins”. The writers of the US Constitution and the Magna Carta certainly felt the need to provide blueprints for their new societies, even if the results failed to live up to the written promises or if they deviated wildly from what was planned.

New recipes would also help people get on board; I can't tell you how many people in my life seem attracted to basic ideas of socialism but ask questions like, “How will movies get made?” or “How will religion work?” These are important questions and I think they should be addressed early on so that people know what they’re signing up for and are eager to fight for it. Marx refused to leave a recipe and now every failed state and genocide perpetrated in the name of Communism are used to smear his name. Jesus left a recipe and he can now be used as moral yardstick to shame his followers who fail to live up to his explicit teachings.

There is such a thing as a happy ending.

No, not the Cinderella gets with the Prince type of happy ending. Not the bad guys get caught and the protagonist triumphs type of happy ending either. Sometimes, a happy ending simply just means coming to peace with what the conclusion came out to be. It may not be the ending you wished for, but as long as you have a will, and there are days ahead, you can make that ending however you want to make it. So you didn't get into your school of choice. So you didn't win the design project. So the boy you waited for didn't wait for you. It's all going to be okay. How do I know? I don't. But I trust in myself and I have faith in my future.

Pink ombre painted stair risers. $20 of sample paint in 5 colours

Question of the day : How far is the Moon from planet Earth?

Mass Effect Online World (M.E.O.W.)

Female Drell Character Sheet.