Good news: if you’re currently laying around and not producing anything, you are a credit to your species.
I’m an ant biologist and I’d like to point out that ants also spend a significant percentage of the time doing nothing.
Turns out sometimes the most evolutionary useful thing you can do is chill and not wear yourself to shreds, whether mammal or insect. It helps you deal with emergencies and adapt to change. Plus, you can act as living food storage!
That last part is probably more an ant thing than a human thing, but hey, live your dreams.
it’s also a bear thing, which absolutely explains me
Doing absolutely fuck-all is how antarctic sea sponges live to be over 10,000 years old, so live your best, longest, laziest life.
Remember lions? Fellow apex predators?
Yeah, they spend 16-20 hours of the day laying around, socializing, raising Cubs and napping.
The last 4-8 hours are spent hunting.
Wait wait, they’re not a primate so they don’t count.
How about Orangutans?
Well, they spend 90% of their time awake just hanging out in food-rich areas, eating fruit and leaves, socializing, raising children, and chilling.
Well, they’re not people so it doesn’t-
How about Stone Age people in Europe?
They probably worked 3-5 hours per day, every day. (Though seasonal changes in food scarcity could change that)
Laborers in ancient Egypt worked 8 hours, with an hour break at lunch. They did this for 8 days, then rested 2 days. That sounds familiar. Except… they also had regular time off for festivals and holidays, and only worked for about 18 out of every 50 days.
Artisans in imperial Rome generally worked from 6am to Noon, and then had the rest of the day off… and only worked for half the year, due to all the holidays and festivals they got off.
But that’s too easy, what about a Peasant in medieval England?
6-8 hours per day, with Sundays off, Farm workers put in longer hours at harvest time but worked shorter days in winter when there are fewer hours of daylight. Economist Juliet Schor estimates that in the period following the Plague they worked no more than 150 days a year, due to the long holidays and many festivals.
Ugh, let’s go poorer. 17th century France. Starvation was afoot for the working poor!
During the reign of King Louis XIV, the workers of France had it tough, and hunger for the poorest was a fact of life. The typical working day was as much as 12 hours long, but two hours were set aside midday for lunch and perhaps an afternoon nap. Nevertheless, the Ancient Régime is said to have also guaranteed peasants, labourers and other workers a total of 52 Sundays, 90 rest days and 38 religious holidays off per year, meaning they worked just 185 out of 365 days.
So what changed?
The industrial revolution, baybe~~
New factory owners could work their employees to the bone due to a lack of regulation and abundance of cheap labour.
The typical factory worker in mid 19th-century England toiled away for a soul-destroying 16 hours a day, six days a week, 311 days per year!
THAT nightmare became the standard by which western society began to judge “work-life balance” and anything gentler than the industrial factory’s unfettered brutality is considered “softness”
(So many people died being mangled in those machines. Hair handkerchiefs went into style during American industrialization because working women would otherwise get their hair caught in the machines, and be either scalped or be bodily pulled inside to die…. But that’s a horror for another time)
Americans in 2020 worked an average of 8.5 hours per day on weekdays, plus another 5 hours on weekends.
Taking out federal holidays and weekends, we work 262 days per year. Most of us get 5-9 sick days to take per year. (Yes, a fixed number, no matter how sick you really are), and usually either no paid vacation, or 7-15 days paid vacation, depending on seniority and the company. Unpaid vacation doesn’t have a max, but taking it often risks you getting fired.
Even comparing against the poorest laborers in ancient history the current working structure for humans is, frankly, inhumane.
We are mammals. Let us rest. Let us celebrate holidays and attend festivals. Let us attend to our homes and families.
Even the ultra wealthy folks who got their heads chopped off gave us more time off than this!!!
Someone in the comments said something like “humans are instinctively industrious and productive, as social creatures!”
Buddy, that’s a lie fed to you by capitalism.
In our default state, we attend to our families yes, but we also party like hell, lounge around, and make fantastic works of art just to be proud of ourselves. We made beautiful things for the joy of creating them.
Stone Age humans may have spent a couple hours hunting and gathering, but DEFINITELY spent loads of time painting every available surface. Time and weather washed most of it away, but some places like Arizona and Colorado still preserve a few of the endless murals made by ancient hands.
Evidence shows that the ancient world was COVERED in paintings and etchings - just saturated with images of birds and beasts and humans, sunsets and cool weather. We invented mythologies and painted about them. We did something impressive, and painted about it. We taught our children how to paint and lifted them into our shoulders so they could mark the ceiling.
In our most base state, humans will work enough to survive, but our instincts demand we use all other time to create art. We want to communicate. To make connections.
“Working” or “being productive” is not on that list.
sometimes I think about how brussel sprouts, cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, kale, collard greens, savoy cabbage, kohlrabi, and gai lan are all the same species, and i understand why biologists are constantly furious about taxonomy
I’m sorry what
same species. same fucking species
Somebody please explain this because what the fuck
i can do that!
Introducing the Brassica oleracea, a plant species whose cultivars include…all of the above. They all originated from the same plant aka THIS FUCKER!
No, really. This thing has existed in Europe for thousands of years, during which time different societies had different culinary preferences, leading them to selectively breed for different traits. For example, a preference for the eating leaves led farmers to select seeds from the plants with the largest leaves, resulting gradually in the development of kale.
The real fun thing is, this happened on a vast timeline. Kale was developed over 4000 years ago, while Savoy cabbage was first documented just 5 centuries ago. And different cultivars developed in different regions across Europe and Asia, with their phenotypes and names changing wildly over time. (Fun fact, Brussels sprouts are indeed named for Brussels, the capital city of Belgium, where they were developed from a predecessor imported from Rome.)
The list above isn’t even exhaustive btw. There are plenty of other ridiculous cultivars (such as the Jersey cabbage, pictured below), and there’s no telling how many other forms existed throughout history, and which would have counted as distinct cultivars, and how many names and groups they were separated into, and, and, and—and imposing taxonomy on the real world is a mess, basically, because the real world does not give a shit about making itself comprehensible or categorizeable. But still we try. Planet Earth has Hot Mess Energy, and would you really have it any other way?
1. Fist: Make a fist around the epi-pen, don’t place your thumb/fingers over either end
2. Flick the blue cap off
3. Fire. Press down into the outer thigh (the big muscle in there), hold for 10 seconds before removing (the orange cap will cover the needle). Bare skin is best but the epi-pen will go through clothing. Avoid pockets and seams.
- Ring an ambulance even if everything seems to be fine!
Oh my god. So as someone who has to carry an epipen EVERYWHERE I am so happy to see that there’s an info post about them. Like in the extreme case that I can’t inject myself, somebody else would have to do it, but nobody knows how to do it! Thank you, this may just save my life some day.
Don’t be wimpy about it, either. I know friends who are like, “but idk if I could stab you with a needle!” Please stab me with the needle, don’t be hesitant about it.
In my case (I can’t speak for all allergies), an epi buys me 20 minutes of breathing to get to the hospital. It is not a magic bullet, it’s a few critical minutes to help get me where I need to go.
For those who don’t know, people with serious food allergies carry epinephrine which is an adrenaline shot just in case they have anaphylaxis, which is a life threatening allergic attack. This shot is life-saving and must be administered to someone who is having an anaphylactic attack as SOON AS POSSIBLE, because an extra waited minute could mean their life.
It doesn’t hurt much at all to use this needle. The first time I used mine, I didn’t even feel it. But be sure to stab it IN THE OUTER THIGH. Do not stick it anywhere else or you could seriously hurt or kill someone. Just right to the outside of the thigh and then call the ambulance - even if your friend starts doing better, they could have a biphasic reaction, meaning a reaction that comes back (or they may need a second dose, be on the look out). If your friend has an epipen, then they have an epipen trainer that doesn’t have a needle and you can try it out just to be sure you know how to use the real thing if you have to. I’d also advise holding it a few more seconds then 10, maybe go for 14 just to be sure all the medicine is administered and that you didn’t count too fast - that’s what I did.
Here’s a graphic of where to stick it:
THANK YOU FOR THE GRAPHIC I was about to ask because my mom carries one around and so do some of my friends and I wanted to make sure I would do it right if I ever needed to!
Learn about this or get a refresher, if you’re not already familiar.
•After popping off the cap, do you have to press down on anything once it’s in the thigh?
•Does the needle stick out automatically when you press it against the thigh, or how does that work?
•Is there a way to tell when it’s empty, or if it’s not injecting properly?
@notanothermultiblog I case nobody answered your questions;
- No, don’t need to press down anything after it’s in the thigh. When putting it in the thigh you will hear a click. Then you just need to hold the EpiPen in the thigh for 10 seconds.
- When the EpiPen is pressed against the thigh, and you heard a click, the needle has come out already. You don’t need to do anything else to make that happen. When taking it out, the orange end will come out automatically, covering the needle. (So you will never see a needle)
- I am not sure if there is a way to tell if it’s empty. I believe you are just supposed to hold it in the thigh for 10 seconds and then all the adrenaline should be injected. If you didn’t hear a click, the needle didn’t come out and you probably should press the EpiPen harder against the thigh.
Hope this helps.
Thank you so much!
Reblog to save a life!
If you know someone who has an EpiPen on them, ask them where they keep it (specific pocket of a bag, spare in the glove box etc.) so you don’t lose precious time searching for it.
if this get 50 notes, I’ll tell you guys how my little sister accidentally became part of school’s urban legend during 3rd grade.
ok so this happened back in south korea, during my 3rd grade years.
my family moved a lot due to my father’s work, like once a year. which meant that every kindergarten and up to 4th grade my sis and i constantly changed schools. and out of all those school, the most memorable school was the one my sister and i attended when we were 10. the school was like, super old building. it was tall, had about 4th floor (korea is small country so we tend to build things up rather then broad.) what was most memorable about this school was that right behind the school there was a garden (i used to water the lilies, part of my responsibility as a student. giving jobs to young student is a norm in asian county), a pond for ducks and a cages for goats and chicken. and behind these wacky collection was a mountain. like, i would take 10 steps away from school and the mountain would be there.
so anyway, the pond was large enough for a watermill and i remember it being so pretty and rather peaceful. but the 5th graders would often tell us that the Principle’s daughter was found dead by the watermill. there was many stories about it here and there. some said that she slipped during rainy season and drowned. other said she committed suicide, some said her hair got caught by the watermill and was crushed underneath the machine. and supposedly her grave was by the watermill. (i’m not sure if it was her tomb or her memorial but it was definitely there. i wouldn’t be surprised if it was her grave though. in korea u can find graves in rather odd places, for sake of the progression let’s call it her grave stone).
i knew that most older kids were teasing me, but i know for that fact that the principle DO have a dead daughter. i saw her portrait hanging in his office (and it was a special type of frame, only used for the departed), this made me never go near the watermill. then one summer (our summer breaks are short so we return to class early) there was a new rumor circulating that the Ghost of Principle’s daughter had spoken to a 3rd grader and given her a gift. some said she had given this girl her crushed skull (and speculation goes on) the story got so popular that even the high schoolers were talking about it. this started a trend that a student would stay after school in there lonesome and leave a gift on the grave, just so that they could have a chance to encounter the ghost girl. this lasted for a while.
now, 16 years later. i was recalling about this memory and spoke to my sister fondly about it. then i said “i wonder who that girl was? the one who met the principle’s daughter’s ghost.” my sister gave me flat look and said.
“oh. that was me.”
i was rather surprised by it, and asked “what the hell happened?”
she told me that she didn’t tell the story that time because she thought it wasn’t all that big deal.
during the 3rd grade, my sister and i attended separate classes (we are twins, so it lessens the confusion). it was after school hours and the other kids in the class dared each other to go to the watermill grave and poke at the grave stone. of course all the kids chickened out and forced my sister to go alone. my sister, being the silent and mysterious protagonist that she was, she didn’t argue and went up to the grave on her own. now, the thing about my sister is that ever since she was little, she was the brave one and she wasn’t scared of dead things. and found them interesting. it’s also worth mentioning that she was raised by my grandmother in her early childhood (my mother had a heart condition and needed extra help). my grandmother was born in one of the smaller island of korea and was raised in shaman family. grandma always told my sister to respect the dead, and respect my sister did.
first thing she knew of visiting the grave was that 1. be respectful. 2. bring offering.
my sister was wearing an overall that day and in her pocket, she had a clementine she hasn’t eaten during lunch. she had her offering. she also recalled my grandmother taking bouquet to the graves. so my sister plucked three dandelions. she had her bouquet.
now 3. clean the grave.
my sister made it up to the grave. and placed the dandelions on top of the grave stones, lining them up. all she had to do was clean, most grave sites would provide a faucet of clean water so that grieving relatives could wash the grave stones. she sister didn’t think to look for one because a water source was right by her feet. my sister resorted to squatting down and cupped the pond water in her palm (the water was clean enough for tadpoles to live but you won’t want to drink it). then she smeared the pond water against the grave stone. as she was doing that, she felt someone standing over her. shading her and the grave.
she turns and sees black…..
it was the principle in his black suit.
my sister mentioned that in close up, the principle looked about in his 60s my sister was pretty sure that his daughter had passed away long time ago. the principle stared at my sister and he didn’t say anything. and my sister being nonverbal, she didn’t say anything either and stared back. they basically stood still for a while, until he spoke.
‘what are you doing?”
my sister answered.
“respecting the dead.”
he examined the sight before him, flower on the grave stone, and some sort of cleaning attempt with a pond water. i think he determined that my sister didn’t had ill intention. he knelt on one knee and pulled out his handkerchief, then proceeded to help my sister to clean the grave. after they did so, he stood back up. and my sister pulled the clementine out of her overalls and placed it in front of the grave. the principle nodded approvingly and watched the grave for a moment or two. he then gently petted my sister’s head and said.
“you know, my daughter and you could have been good friends.”
my sister said nothing but nodded in agreement. before she could return to her classmate, the principle showed a box he had brought with him.
“this is my daughter’s favorite rice cake, would you like some?”
she took one and returned to her class. when she got there the other kids were pretty surprised that my sister didn’t ditch them out of the dare. but they noticed that my sister was eating something.
a rice cake.
they asked where she got it, and my sister being silent, young and not too savvy with words she tried to say “this is the principle daughter’s favorite” and “the principle gave it to me” her words jumbled and she wind up saying “the principle’s daughter gave it to me.” of course, they didn’t believe her and checked her overall pocket, thinking she smuggled it. the thing about this particular rice cake is that it’s covered in sweet powders and my sister’s pocket was clean. they knew they didn’t had rice cake for lunch and the cafeteria is closed, and even if she could have gotten from a market it was too far away. now the kids start freaking out and my sister, being the silent protagonist that she is, her mission was completed and she left for home. the next day the “scary story” spread like wild fire.
as i learned of truth, i had another realization. why in the world was the principle so silent when he saw my sister? then it hit me. remember that i saw the principle’s daughter’s portrait? she looked around 9 or 10 and she had this long wavy hair…..my sister had similar hair.
now imagine you are this old man, going up to see his daughter’s grave. it’s after school so kids shouldn’t be around. and in front of the daughter’s grave, you see a small child with long black hair, wearing white (what ghosts usually wear in korean culture) and kneeling at the front of the grave.
at this point i lost it and laughed, the principle was very quiet because
1. he thought my sister was a ghost. and 2. she scared the hell out of him.
my sister found that prospective interesting and laughed along with me. she and i still discuss that memory today. and that’s how my sister accidentally became part of school’s urban legend/mistaken for a ghost during 3rd grade.
