The LiveJournal community A Day In My Life is a glimpse via photos into a life of posters around the world. Compare and contrast the routines and pastimes, more is similar than different.
But posts by a volunteer at a center for the blind in Tanzania show something far more enriching.
His photos document an average day in the life of two of the village's seven-year-olds: a boy, Barracka and a girl, Nyemo. posted by five_dollars at 8:45 PM PST - 6 comments
Tech publisher O'Reilly editors discuss the role of hard work and practice in programming and learning in general. "One aspect of learning programming that often eludes both students and teachers alike is the importance of practice, of actually working through all of these formal structures we teach. Most of our books, in a way, offer a promise of learning that avoids the slow repetition of practice." posted by needled at 2:57 PM PST - 71 comments
Is the new feminism lipstick and fashion? “I think the proper reaction to a beauty pageant these days is to be bored by it. I would have thought that old version of feminism, which was violently opposed to lipstick and high heels, had died out by now. It’s an extinct image of feminism — that you can’t be both frivolous and serious or care about clothes and read books at the same time. And, in a way, it’s sort of depressing that these same old-fashioned battles keep on being recycled.” posted by four panels at 10:20 AM PST - 142 comments
The Nature of Light and Color in the Open Air "Moreover, this book is written for all those who love Nature; for the young people going out into the wide world and gathering together round the camp-fire; for the painter who admires but does not understand the light and colour of the landscape; for those living in the country; for all who delight in travelling; and also for town-dwellers, for whom, even in the noise and clamour of our dark streets, the manifestations of Nature remain." - Marcel Minnaert [more inside] posted by jquinby at 8:26 AM PST - 18 comments
My friends and I confided in each other, swapping stories, sharing out pain, while keeping it all hidden from the adults in our lives. After all, who could we tell? This wasn’t rape - it didn’t fit the definitions. This was Not rape. We should have known better. We were the ones who would take the blame. We would be punished, and no one wanted that. So, these actions went on, aided by a cloak of silence. From Racialicious. posted by Navelgazer at 6:41 AM PST - 349 comments