Growing up, my dad had a rule. “You can’t get a tattoo. If you do, I will make you get it removed. Unless, that is, you join the army and can shoot a seagull in the eye from a mile away, or you have a near-death experience.”
On July 12, 2011, I rode my bicycle to the camp I worked at. On my way home, I rode down a hill, and stopped at the bottom. I looked both ways, and there was no car coming. I started to turn left when I got hit by a car going ~55 miles per hour. I completely shattered the windshield, and when the driver stopped, I was ejected back onto the road. The doctors in the emergency room were absolutely perplexed when I arrived, because they all agreed that I should have died, and they were amazed to release me 4 and a half hours later with only 16 stitches, a concussion, and a chipped tooth. During my recovery, I was angry and confused. A couple if days after my accident, I received cards from my eight year old campers. One of them drew a giant paper crane, and said, “if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you’ll get better”.
Not being able to read, ride a bicycle, or put stress on my body, I cut up an old sudoku puzzle, went on YouTube, and learned how to make a paper crane. By the end of the day, I had a laundry basket full of black and white paper cranes.
I kept making paper cranes, even after I made a thousand, and I ran into a dilemma. What do you do with paper cranes once you’ve made them? A girl in my class had committed suicide the same day I had my accident, and I brought a purple crane to her wake. Her family could not have been happier the moment I presented them with this crane. Something clicked in my head right there. I started giving them to people and hiding them in random places for people to find. I started making art with them, and they became a major part of who I was.
This tattoo is symbolic of my accident, and could not represent me any better.
I’m at the grocery store with my grandparents and my grandpa has wandered away and now my grandma is going up every isle yelling his name and im hiding behind a cookie display cuz i dont want anyone to know im with the crazy woman screaming dick at the top of her lungs
… Y’see, now, y’see, I’m looking at this, thinking, squares fit together better than circles, so, say, if you wanted a box of donuts, a full box, you could probably fit more square donuts in than circle donuts if the circumference of the circle touched the each of the corners of the square donut.
So you might end up with more donuts.
But then I also think… Does the square or round donut have a greater donut volume? Is the number of donuts better than the entire donut mass as a whole?
A round donut with radius R1 occupies the same space as a square donut with side 2R1. If the center circle of a round donut has a radius R2 and the hole of a square donut has a side 2R2, then the area of a round donut is πR12 - πr22. The area of a square donut would be then 4R12 - 4R22. This doesn’t say much, but in general and throwing numbers, a full box of square donuts has more donut per donut than a full box of round donuts.
The interesting thing is knowing exactly how much more donut per donut we have. Assuming first a small center hole (R2 = R1/4) and replacing in the proper expressions, we have a 27,6% more donut in the square one (Round: 15πR12/16 ≃ 2,94R12, square: 15R12/4 = 3,75R12). Now, assuming a large center hole (R2 = 3R1/4) we have a 27,7% more donut in the square one (Round: 7πR12/16 ≃ 1,37R12, square: 7R12/4 = 1,75R12). This tells us that, approximately, we’ll have a 27% bigger donut if it’s square than if it’s round.
tl;dr: Square donuts have a 27% more donut per donut in the same space as a round one.
Thank you donut side of Tumblr.
I’m with you till the end of the line.
i want to be so famous that people misspell my name just so it can be their url
”‘cause I’m with you till the end of the line”
YOU’RE IN AUSTRALIA
OF COURSE SPIDERS SHOULD BE FEARED
I got bitten by a white-tailed spider when i was seven. There is basically ‘no cure’ for the bite which often gets infected because of bacteria on the spiders fangs. It pretty much eats away at the flesh and its horrible. Thankfully my grandma is a seasoned aussie and put some potion she made on it and it got better. I still to this day have scar about the size of a 5 cent coin on my thigh and when you touch it there’s basically a hole in my leg from where it ate away at my flesh.
moral of the story STAY AWAY FROM AUSTRALIA. IT IS DANGEROUS AND YOU WONT SURVIVE.
"This is mine…”
"This is mine…”
This is mine…”
"This is mine…”
"A seven nation army couldn’t hold me back"