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Rumell Khan - Log Book
Problems only hardcore bookworms have?I don't like it when someone asks you what your favourite book is and expects you to pick just one. I mean have you seen my list. I kind of enjoying anything right now. also dislike it when the movie version of a book gets everything wrong.
I have another one. I guess people have different opinions but when a book you love gets a harsh review and is very underrated.
This isn't my common pet peeve but I would guess a lot of bookworms would feel the same. When someone spoils the ending of a book. (You monsters). Or worse, the ending of an entire series. (Basically, we think you're a horrible human being and bad things should happen to you).
The thing that tops the lot is when someone says you read too much. I mean, excuse me. There is no such thing as too much books.
http://carte-blanche.org/hiyoge-owisi...Híyoge owísisi tánga itá (Cricket egg stories)
By Katherine Crocker
The Natural Sciences Building is deserted late at night, which is usually when I process my samples in the lab. Sometimes I nod off next to my whirling centrifuge as I wait for time to pass. I imagine reeling it in, spooling neat loops around my centrifuge rotor until I have wound time, and myself, back six hundred years into the past. Now there is no Natural Sciences Building and no University. I hover atop my lab stool at second-floor level in the forest. But I am not alone—the faces I glimpse are the faces of people I call my relatives, the Anishnaabeg, Wendat, Miami, and Potawatomi people from whom this land will be stolen in the next hundred years or so.
I will not speak for what happened on this land six-hundred years ago: my tribe is from farther south, and the story of this forest is not mine. But in my homelands, just like here, late in the cool evening, crickets sing. They are the six-hundred-year ancestors of the crickets from whose eggs I have extracted hormones, the samples that are now spinning towards dryness at my elbow.
Unwind time a little, slowly. The centrifuge hums and rattles.
Five-hundred-and-twenty-five years ago, confused Europeans “discovered” the “New World”. Heaps of broken brown bodies marked this great achievement as the Europeans congratulated one another. Brave explorers, selfless men of God, and devout Pilgrims soon began pillaging, raping, and slaughtering their way from sea to sea. They rename our homelands “North America.” Their descendants tell us that those men were seeking their fortunes, trying to save souls, hoping to find simple freedom for themselves.
Five-hundred-and-twenty-five years after their great discovery, I share a pub table with a group of women, most of whom are white. Molly, who is studying to become a natural resource use mediator, leans across the table to demand that I acknowledge the injustice of my claim that settlers committed genocide. I will want to ask her to explain by what alchemy she can transmute the millions of lives taken into “a better life for all.” By what algebra does she convert rape, murder, stolen children, and forced sterilization into salvation–and whose? I will want to say all of this, but instead I will be breathless with grief and ask her if she realizes how much pain she is causing me. I will ask her if she can hear her own words. In response, she will slam out of the restaurant, and among the women left at the table, I will almost hear cricket song in the silence. Although they are my friends, they will not invite me to join them again.
—-
AdobeStock_71002001-2500x1673If you know anything at all about crickets, you know that they sing. Most people hear more crickets in one summer evening than they will see in a lifetime—theirs, or a cricket’s. Scientists have spent careers studying how crickets and their cousins use song to communicate. Though I love their music, the questions that keep me awake in the lab into the small hours cannot be answered by their song, but by their eggs.
A female cricket finds her mates by sneaking silently through fallen leaves and grass towards a male who sings in a small burrow or from beneath a strong leaf, which he uses to direct and amplify his song. Larger males sing louder, longer, and at a lower pitch; these males are the females’ favorites. After they mate, the female continues her journey, stopping to plant each egg, like a seed, into damp soil.
Each egg represents a single unit of hope for the future and contains everything a mother cricket can spare for that one offspring. To hedge her bets, she may pick several fathers from among the best singers she can find. In this way, she increases her chances of producing babies who will grow up to become loud-singing males and stealthy, discerning females. She provides each egg with fuel: food molecules to drive the embryo forwards to crickethood and hormone molecules to guide it along the best path. Crickets do not provide care to their young nor defend them from predators. All that a cricket mother can do is pack what she has into each egg and choose a safe place for it to rest while it becomes a cricket.
Producing eggs is the most important job a female cricket has. Even though there are not many alternative strategies available, each mother approaches this task differently. Some mothers pack up to seven times more hormones into their eggs than others, but why? Do the extra hormones make the babies grow larger, or hatch sooner? What makes some mothers provide so much more than others? It might be genetic, fated by evolution to happen a certain way. Or perhaps it’s a mother’s response to her environment—the heat or quality of available food may cause her to change her plan.
I want to know.
—-
It is five-hundred-and-twenty-five years ago, just after settlers arrived seeking freedom. They will achieve it by wresting ours from us. Let time go faster now, because this quiet, song-filled night is no longer a peaceful, living place. It is becoming strange with invaders, warped by the horrors they bring. I don’t want to feel in my body the searing hurt of all of our losses. My muscles spasm under the crashing grief that sounds, in my ears, like the sky itself is being ripped to shreds. But I cannot escape now, it is too late. They have already arrived.
Treaties are made and broken until shards cover the land, slicing our flesh to ribbons. We stumble at gunpoint, driven from our homelands to new places not of our choosing. The new lands we are expected to inhabit are not yet wanted by settlers; when they are, we will be uprooted again. Entire families are murdered. Entire tribes given blankets known to be infected with smallpox. Entire cultures limp forward, barely surviving.
In the far future, descendants of our murderers will pretend that we are noble, mysterious, wise, and yet strangely savage. They will make up stories that turn us into beings between animals and gods, as inscrutable as the Sphinx. Though we still exist, they will persist in thinking that we are both imaginary and tragically lost, gone the way of the unicorn. If we had been what they say, our wrath would have been terrible, and our pain would have rent the world.
—-
Five-hundred-and-twenty-five years later I slump at my lab bench, bone-tired, though the centrifuge spins on. To extract the hormones, I crushed the cricket eggs in a mixture of mostly methanol and just a little water. Methanol pulls the hormone molecules out of the tissues they cling to. The water helps keep them stable. Methanol is volatile and evaporates in a flash: spill some on your skin and it feels ice-cold as it boils into the air. My sample-drying centrifuge can suck methanol vapor off the samples in a couple of hours, but the water takes three times as long. I let the rotor spin off time with the methanol, faster than life.
—-
It is now only two-hundred years into the past; we are still courageous. When our generosity yields only treaties that the settlers quickly dishonor, we fight. The Lakota Sioux and Cheyenne are victorious against the U.S. Government. The Kansa stand firm against dismayed missionaries sent to threaten and cajole us into forsaking our culture. In spite of these victories, we are all compelled into prison camps of ever-decreasing size, to sicken and die of heartache, starvation, and new diseases that no one wants us to survive. These camps are called reservations, as though their makers had our protection in mind.
Our histories are woven into the fabric of each day we spend on and with our ancestral lands. For thousands of years we have prayed, eaten, slept, loved and fought alongside generations of history. We have built our spirituality on this connection. Having ripped us from our past and profaned what is holy, the settlers set to work killing our future. They steal our babies, claiming we are unfit to raise them. They beat our children and cut off their hair, trying to shape them into Civilized Humans who cannot remember the languages or cultures they were born to. Our children’s abusers justify themselves by promising that hurting young bodies can save the souls within. Perhaps it can, but only in the way that drying meat into jerky can save the deer.
All across our homelands, it is now a crime to be Indigenous, a mortal sin to be brown, worse still to be either of these while a woman. These transgressions are punished by rape, kidnapping, imprisonment, beatings, and murder. We are courageous. Some of us run away. The son of Tuekakas, like so many others, leads his band in a bid for asylum in what is now called Canada. They are just a few miles from the border when they are captured by the U.S. military and “brought in,” forced into a prison camp of their own.
Two-hundred years later, my aunt will tell us about her grandmother: “She was with Cochise when they brought them in.” That is the entire story. My aunt squinted into her cigarette smoke when she told us, just the once. We knew better than to ask questions. What else was there to say? Captivity is brutal, and there were precious few happy endings in any of the forts.
—-
Leaning on the bench, listening to the centrifuge, it begins to hum at a different pitch: the methanol is gone. It is late enough to be early, and I am alone in the Natural Sciences Building. Split between yesterday and today, I wait for the water to dry. The last few drops are always slowest: greedy hormone molecules cling to the water. Once it is all gone, I will add buffer to the dried hormone extract—a saltwater solution, like tears.
—-
livecricketsIn the future, maps will be sepia-toned portraits of genocide, but now those are in living color. It is one-hundred-and-fifty years ago. Town names commemorate blood-soaked forts: Custer, Yates, Collins, Worth—all built on the necessity of murder, using the justification of self-defense. The Battle of Little Bighorn is a victory, but it does not turn the tide. Time whips by: it is seventy years ago. Uranium mines built today will poison the water of the Diné people indefinitely; living water mutates to cancerous sludge, killing what it touches as surely as any nuclear weapon. Thirty-five years ago. Though it is no longer a federal crime for us to pray, our children are still stolen, given to white families who will be sure to “civilize” them. Federal Indian Health Service doctors forcibly sterilize all the fullblood women of my tribe, and others. Our weeping carries us to ten years ago, when the same federal government makes a glancing acknowledgement that it has committed atrocities against us. This brief admission comes, without any hint of irony, in a single line of the budget of the Department of Defense.
This article was written by Katherine Crocker. You can follow the full article by clicking the link above.
Katherine Crocker is a member of the Kaw Nation, and earned her PhD studying transgenerational effects of egg hormones in crickets. She is now a postdoctoral research fellow at the Mailman School of Public Health at Columbia University. She likes to spend time reading, writing, cooking, beading, and learning her language.
Read
*****
I have read See All the Stars for college. It really got me all excited. I was able to understand something spectacular.
I loved the use of language it had and I really got sucked into it at my spare time. I was touched by what Ellory went through. I didn't reread it though (Of course I would if I had time.)
I have kept it on my reading journal at college.
Overall I would give this book 5 stars.
I dislike it when people adding books to your list even when it doesn't fit with the theme of Listopia.
Welcome to The Book Reading Team.This is a group created by Rumell Khan. It has been created in 25th of May 2018.
Group Motto: (Not yet decided)
Hi. I am glad to meet people in this group.
This group is where we uphold different genres or themes of books for different months. I would love Authors introducing themselves to this group and talk us through about their books.
This is from Greater Manchester, UK.
Everyone is welcome to this group
---
2018:
May - Group Fun (Since this group has just have been created. We can just relax for this month.)
June - Favourite Books
July - New Releases
August - Books for the Summer
September - Back to School
October - Horror
November - Read Recently
December - Christmas
2019:
January - 10th Century
February - 11th Century
March - 12 Century
April - 13 Century
May - 14th Century
June - 15th Century
July - 16th Century
August - 1864 Shenandoah- Campaign
September - 18th Century
October - 1917
November - 19th Century
December - 1st Grade
2020:
January - 20th-century - 21st-century
February - 2nd-grade - 40k
March - Abandoned - Abuse
April - Academia - Academic
May - Academics - Accounting
June - Accra - Action
The person sent a group message saying 'As many of you know, one of our members offered to make the group more visually appealing, with permission, and agreed to wait for approval before doing anything drastic. I apologize for the sorry state of this group. I will not name names, but this person has one day from the time of this message to salvage the original text for both the opening and the rules, and remove themself from the group. At which point their existence in this group will be erased. Normally, I would give a warning and let it slide, but this is a drastic offense and flies in the face of the original rules. All decisions made in this group over the weekend have been cancelled until the group is repaired, which should hopefully be within the next two days. I apologize for the inconvienence.
This was his broadcast message.
I'm about to use a word that I don't usually say online. When another person says it seems okay doesn't it? I had a reason. A lot of people randomly say it. And I had to step out of my comfort zone.
I am not tired. I have had Biology today.
If I could, I would be a radio presenter.
Queen: Hey Ayana. Queen here, may I ask why there are only straight students? I am interested in this roleplay but I had intentions of making some lesbian and gay characters. I understand if you are not comfortable, but at least, I would like to understand why.Ayana: For awhile I was quite the homophobe, but now I have so many lgbt+ friends I just have to accept it at this point. I don't support it and I never will, but I guess I will allow it if it makes people happier. https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
That would be great if you let us have LGBT in the role-play.
Favorite Childhood Shows Loud House and Nicky, Ricky, Dicky and Dawn
I would love new Back-To-School books for ages 11-18.
He received a message telling that he will be punished by the government because he has been found guilty of man-slaughtering an innocent young child.
I am also a good friends with Meraz. You are not alone.
Meraz has made a mistake but that doesn't mean she is evil.
Mrs Kipling took off her apron and sat out for fresh air.
I prefer contacts over glasses.
Relaxed makes me think of Red Blood Cells
I am supposed to be doing homework but I am. I am going to have chemistry later on.
I don't think she's evil, I just think that she overstepped her boundaries and can't get it through her head that that was unacceptable. And then she was harassing me all day. I am on your side in that situation.
I have a stupid. question. Well it is a question anyway.What do you think would happen if a person tripped over and fell through 4 floors of stairs to the ground floor. I was thinking that when I was walking down my college stairs.
![Jaxon(Jax)[They-He] | 4642 comments](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1749715398p1/46156450.jpg)
Probably either lot of broken bones or death. It depends on how you land.
I once accidently put my group as 18+ and I couldn't reverse anything. Put few weeks after I saw it in the group list and I joined back in.
I just got off work today. I have just finished Psychology as my last lesson for today.
Options to hide gifsKate: I realize that this has been raised before and the chances that anything will be done about it are slim, but I'm obviously not the only one who finds gifs in reviews irritating and distracting. Surely it wouldn't be that difficult to implement optional screening.
Well, I tried.
Shaun: Hi all, your requests to hide gifs from reviews and elsewhere on the site, has been added to the open file.
Me: I am not fan of Gifs and Memes personally. But I think it isn't easy to automatically hide them.
What does OML mean? Sorry I am not that good with abbreviated words.
StarrySky: I've started trying out the murder mysteries/detective stories genre, and I LOVE it so far! <33 It's so much fun trying to follow along on the clues, and figure out the real murderer :DI love detective stories xD
Starlene,Star,স্টাঢ়,Starlight,Starshine,Starburst,Stardust,Starbright: Ahhhh the galaxy theme is amazing I love it~!
Me: It's interesting that we have StarrySky and Star in this journal.
Starlene: It's lovely isn't it,/i>Me: Yes.
Stella Solaria: My favourite Art is Textiles.
It's okay we understand. I hope he feels better. Family comes first in cases.
Why can't we use the word Captcha since it is Goodreads? Plus what if a person with a condition was doing the Captcha. I feel like there isn't any inclusion for those who have disorders that affect their visuals. I have had friends who would see images funnily when she has to focus on them so much. It is a serious problem with her that her eyes can't focus on an object for a long time. She has Presbyopia. Captcha is where you focus on a image for a long time.
Dannie: They have the audio version mentioned in the above posts for visual and physical limitations. It's still the captcha check feature.
It’s the holiday season and people are getting together, swapping gifts, and sending “Thank You” notes to one and all. So, how do you respond? Do you reply with “Your Welcome” or “You’re Welcome”?People often make the mistake of writing Your Welcome when it should be You’re Welcome! Since they both sound the same, it’s easy to make such an error. A good way to remember is to use “you’re” when it’s appropriate to say “you are”.
Let’s take a look at some comparisons:
Yоur Yоu’rе
Examples: “Yоur flу іѕ open.” “You’re making things very hard fоr me.”
Examples: “I lіkе уоur shoes.” “Yоu’rе the lоvе оf mу lіfе”.
Mеаnіng: “Your” means “bеlоngіng tо уоu”. “Yоu’rе” іѕ a combination of “уоu аrе”.
Is it a Noun or a Pronoun?
“Your” is a possessive pronoun such as Your Cat, Your House, etc. It is always followed by a noun such as Cat or House. Since it is possessive by nature, it never has an apostrophe with it.
Here’s two more exаmрlеs of Yоur Welcome vs. Yоu’rе Welcome that will help us understand this better:
Correct usage of ‘You’re’.
“I think your more than qualified for that position”. That’s saying “I think you more than qualified for that position”. The grammar is wrong because it does not make any sense. The sentence should be “I think you’re more than qualified for that position”.
Correct usage of ‘Your’.
“You’re hair is the loveliest shade of red”. What you are saying is: “You Are hair is the loveliest shade of red” which is obviously the wrong use of the word. The correct usage should be “Your hair is the loveliest shade of red”. A contraction is never followed by a noun such as Hair.
You’re Welcome!
The Ginger Software Team
Written by Malki Ehrlich on December 29, 2016 https://www.gingersoftware.com/conten...
Did you know that a lot of people mistakenly use 'Your Welcome' in thank you letters? The sounding is quite similar though.
Honestly sometimes I get grammar wrong
I have a stupid. question. Well it is a question anyway.What do you think would happen if a person tripped over and fell through 4 floors of stairs to the ground floor. I was thinking that when I was walking down my college stairs.
Hallie: They would probably end up with a lot of broken bones or die. My friend once fell through a one flight of stairs, and it hurt her badly for days.
Okay.
I was thinking weird thoughts as well. I also wondered if a person had to do a science experiment on what will happen if a person had to fall down the stairs and have to repeat tests. I mean you have to pay someone a lot of money if you were going to do that.
Never mind, found out hahaha, *Still feeling ignored* Well G2G
I do not have more than 4 pets. Today I was giving lecture about 'Your welcome' and 'You're welcome'.
I prefer The Queen over David Bowie. Even though I am not interest in either of them.
Log Book signing out in 5 minutes.
Rules:
1) No bullying. (Bullying doesn't afffect me but if you mess with anyone else you are going to deal with me. No ifs, No buts)
2) Respect others views.
3) No troubles.
4) No leaving others out in chat. (If you leave someone out I will not give you any warnings and I will let the moderator know)