Fan Behavior Quotes

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When people support you when you have done something wrong. It doesnt mean you are right, but it means those people are promoting their hate , bad behavior or living their bad lives through you.
De philosopher DJ Kyos
Dancing in pitch-dark rooms, rooms illuminated exclusively by the tiny light on the turntable, is an activity which fits very well with my ideas of “rock-critic behavior” (which is like normal music-fan behavior, but substantially more pitiful and indulgent).
Jessica Hopper (The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic)
There's a strange uniformity in the vocabulary European soccer fans use to hate black people. The same primate insults get hurled. Although they've gotten better over time, the English and Italians developed the tradition of making ape noises when black players touched the ball. The Poles toss bananas on the field. This consistency owes nothing to television, which rarely shows these finer points of fan behavior. Nor are these insults considered polite to discuss in public. This trope has simply become a continent-wide folk tradition, transmitted via the stadium, from fan to fan, from father to son.
Franklin Foer (How Soccer Explains the World)
The rules for working on Tony’s shows were not to be found on the pages of any HR manual. There were behaviors perfectly acceptable in polite society that were unforgivable deal-breakers for Tony. Stingy tipper, vegan, mediocre, tea drinker, late, or a fan of Jimmy Buffett’s music, you’re off the show.
Tom Vitale (In the Weeds: Around the World and Behind the Scenes with Anthony Bourdain)
Cancer, in short, was not merely genetic in its origin; it was genetic in its entirety. Abnormal genes governed all aspects of cancer’s behavior. Cascades of aberrant signals, originating in mutant genes, fanned out within the cancer cell, promoting survival, accelerating growth, enabling mobility, recruiting blood vessels, enhancing nourishment, drawing oxygen—sustaining cancer’s life.
Siddhartha Mukherjee (The Emperor of All Maladies)
Miss Kay There are only a few things in life that make me really, really angry. One of them is when people struggle in their marriages and refuse to fight for them, but I have already mentioned that. Another thing that infuriates me--and embarrasses me so much for the people who do it--is when women nearly fall all over my sons flirting with them. They try some of the most disgraceful things to catch Willie’s, Jase’s, or Jep’s attention. Some of the behavior I have seen toward my sons--and even toward Phil and Si--is just shameful! I don’t understand how people can let themselves act that way, and as a woman, I really am humiliated when other women do such things. I realize all the boys are good-looking, and I know what great men they are, but they’re taken. A lot of people don’t respect the vows and commitments of marriage anymore and simply do not have any self-respect. They do not seem to have any reservation at all about flirting with men they know to be married. When people don’t honor the fact that each of my sons already has the woman he has chosen, I want to say, “Come on! These boys are happily married men. Go find your own duck hunter!” This kind of thing did not happen before we went on television, and I hate to see it happening now. As much as I enjoy interacting with our fans and hearing stories about the positive impact Duck Dynasty has had on so many people, I will never be okay with women chasing after my sons.
Korie Robertson (The Women of Duck Commander: Surprising Insights from the Women Behind the Beards About What Makes This Family Work)
I took a step toward him, planning to knock him out of his chair, then pour milk on him for good measure. Selene put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t bother.” She was right, and I knew it. The Will wouldn’t let me hit him. I contemplated using Mr. Ankil’s snatch-and-smack trick, but I hadn’t practiced it yet, and Lance wasn’t carrying his wand, just the stupid joker playing card he liked to fiddle with whenever he was bored, weaving it in between his fingers like he was some kind of card shark. I’d once asked Selene what the deal was with the card, and she explained that Lance was obsessed with the Joker from Batman. In an ordinary high school, he would’ve been ridiculed for this behavior, but not at Arkwell. Most magickind teenagers were fanatics about ordinary pop culture. Almost everybody was a Comic-Con–attending, play-dress-up fan boy. And he had the nerve to make fun of me. Go figure.
Mindee Arnett (The Nightmare Affair (The Arkwell Academy, #1))
Just across from Bismarck stood Fort Lincoln where friends and relatives of Custer’s dead cavalrymen still lived, and these emigrating Sioux could perceive such bitterness in the air that one Indian on the leading boat displayed a white flag. Yet, in accordance with the laws of human behavior, the farther downstream they traveled the less hostility they encountered, and when the tiny armada reached Standing Rock near the present border of South Dakota these Indians were welcomed as celebrities. Men, women and children crowded aboard the General Sherman to shake hands with Sitting Bull. Judson Elliot Walker, who was just then finishing a book on Custer’s campaigns, had to stand on a chair to catch a glimpse of the medicine man and reports that he was wearing “green wire goggles.” No details are provided, so green wire goggles must have been a familiar sight in those days. Sitting Bull mobbed by fans while wearing green wire goggles. It sounds like Hollywood.
Evan S. Connell (Son of the Morning Star: General Custer and the Battle of the Little Bighorn)
Occam's Razor: The simplest theory that fits the facts corresponds most closely to reality. Fit this, Jillian--why do I treat you so horribly? He grimaced. The simplest theory that encompassed the full range of asinine behavior he exhibited around Jillian was that he was hopelessly in love with her, and if he wasn't careful she would figure it out. He had to be cold, perhaps cruel, for Jillian was an intelligent woman and unless he maintained a convincing facade she would see right through him. He drew a deep breath and steeled his will. "You were saying?" He arched a sardonic brow. Powerful men had withered into babbling idiots beneath the sarcasm and mockery of that deadly gaze. But not his Jillian, and it delighted him as much as it worried him. She held her ground, even leaned closer, ignoring the curious stares and perked ears of the onlookers. Close enough that her breath fanned his neck and made him want to seal his lips over hers and draw her breath into his lungs so deeply that she'd need him to breathe it back into her. She looked deep into his eyes, then a smile of delight curved her mouth. "You do remember," she whispered fiercely. "I wonder what else you lie to me about," she murmured, and he had the dreadful suspicion she was about to start applying a scientific analysis to his idiotic behavior. The she'd know, and he'd be exposed for the love-struck dolt he was.
Karen Marie Moning (To Tame a Highland Warrior (Highlander, #2))
With the news that he would soon be a daddy again, Steve seemed inspired to work even harder. Our zoo continued to get busier, and we had trouble coping with the large numbers. The biggest draw was the crocodiles. Crowds poured in for the croc shows, filling up all the grandstands. The place was packed. Steve came up with a monumental plan. He was a big fan of the Colosseum-type arenas of the Roman gladiator days. He sketched out his idea for me on a piece of paper. “Have a go at this, it’s a coliseum,” he declared, his eyes wide with excitement. He drew an oval, then a series of smaller ovals in back of it. “Then we have crocodile ponds where the crocs could live. Every day a different croc could come out for the show and swim through a canal system”--he sketched rapidly--“then come out in the main area.” “Canals,” I said. “Could you get them to come in on cue?” “Piece of cake!” he said. “And get this! We call it…the Crocoseum!” His enthusiasm was contagious. Never mind that nothing like this had ever been done before. Steve was determined to take the excitement and hype of the ancient Roman gladiators and combine it with the need to show people just how awesome crocs really were. But it was a huge project. There was nothing to compare it to, because nothing even remotely similar had ever been attempted anywhere in the world. I priced it out: The budget to build the arena would have to be somewhere north of eight million dollars, a huge expense. Wes, John, Frank, and I all knew we’d have to rely on Steve’s knowledge of crocodiles to make this work. Steve’s enthusiasm never waned. He was determined. This would become the biggest structure at the zoo. The arena would seat five thousand and have space beneath it for museums, shops, and a food court. The center of the arena would have land areas large enough for people to work around crocodiles safely and water areas large enough for crocs to be able to access them easily. “How is this going to work, Steve?” I asked, after soberly assessing the cost. What if we laid out more than eight million dollars and the crocodiles decided not to cooperate? “How are you going to convince a crocodile to come out exactly at showtime, try to kill and eat the keeper, and then go back home again?” I bit my tongue when I realized what was coming out of my mouth: advice on crocodiles directed at the world’s expert on croc behavior. Steve was right with his philosophy: Build it, and they will come. These were heady times. As the Crocoseum rose into the sky, my tummy got bigger and bigger with our new baby. It felt like I was expanding as rapidly as the new project. The Crocoseum debuted during an Animal Planet live feed, its premiere beamed all over the world. The design was a smashing success. Once again, Steve had confounded the doubters.
Terri Irwin (Steve & Me)
I resolved to never again be unprepared for the shit hitting the fan. I would pay attention to small things—the way people dressed and spoke and walked. The things that made them part of a background environment, or made them stand out against it. I would watch them, try to consciously identify the signs and behaviors that made them who they were, and then imitate and adopt those things as my own. It would be like performing a role, with the preparation a kind of acting school. I’d make it a game, and play it every day.
Barry Eisler (Graveyard of Memories (John Rain, #8))
They fan racial divisions as they seethe with hostility and resentment. In summary, the prevailing white racial assumptions and the behaviors they engender protect racism.
Robin DiAngelo (White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism)
But the truth was, we were kidding ourselves with all this “grazing”; there was only one woman in the world for my dad, and that was Eve. Even back then I was never sure how my mother had ever become the be-all woman of his dreams, there were sure plenty of things that he didn’t like about her: She was a slob, a bitch, a procrastinator, a lousy cook, a liar, she didn’t pay bills and she never, ever apologized, to anyone, for anything. But she had two qualities that overshadowed all of that; she made him laugh, and she was always his biggest fan. No matter how furious she was with him, how disgusted, how outraged by his near psychotic behavior, Eve always thought Eddie was the most talented writer in the world.
Casey Maxwell Clair (An Only Child and Her Sister: A Memoir)
Love all people, including those who do wrong. They may be acting unintentionally, out of ignorance. Even if they are acting intentionally, they can’t harm you—that is, they can’t make you a worse person than before. Only you can harm yourself, by fanning the flames of hatred and resentment. When someone wrongs you, identify the mistaken ideas that motivated their behavior. Then, instead of being angry, you’ll pity them.
Marcus Aurelius (The Meditations (Stoic Philosophy #2))
Whether or not you are looking to house-train your German Shepherd Dog (GSD) or any other type of dog, this book will teach you the essentials of house-training your new puppy (or adult) dog without the need for "Crate Training" in a very easy and fun to read format. This book also serves as a photo-journal (with high-quality (HQ) high-definition (HD) picture on every page) documenting week by week the first few months of life of Sadie the German Shepherd Dog (GSD) Puppy (together with her dog friend Bad News Billy) that is suitable for children, and makes a very nice children's story-picture book for fans of German Shepherd Dogs (GSDs) of all ages. By reading this book you will learn: 1.) How to house-train your dog without "Crate Training". 2.) How to know when to take your dog out to urinate/defecate. 3.) The four most important concepts for your dog to learn first before anything else. 4.) The three ways to get your dog to do as you say. 5.) The four reasons why your dog will not bite you. 6.) The two ways to control your dog's "Danger Area". 7.) The two ways to teach your dog new behaviors. 8.) Positive Reinforcement vs. Correction of Negative Behaviors. 9.) Which foods are safe and unsafe for your dog to eat. 10.) How to teach your dog hand-signals as silent commands. 11.) How to teach your dog to urinate/defecate upon command. ...and much more!
Yohai Reuben (Sadie the German Shepherd Dog Puppy: How to House-Train your GSD without a Crate)
It is eerie, watching the shots of the audience. You never see anyone just plain laughing, as if they’d heard something that was funny. You see, instead, behavior more appropriate at a fascist rally, as his fans stick their fists in the air and chant his name as if he were making some kind of statement for them. Perhaps he is. Perhaps he is giving voice to their rage, fear, prejudice, and hatred. They seem to cheer him because he is getting away with expressing the sick thoughts they don’t dare to say.
Roger Ebert (I Hated, Hated, Hated This Movie)
The pathways with axons pointed towards the periphery, and which conduct impulses outward, are called efferent pathways. Their origins can ultimately be traced to the motor cortex, next to the sensory cortex at the top of the brain. Their axons descend the spinal cord and fan out into the body, terminating in synapses with the striated skeletal and cardiac muscles, and the smooth muscles of the vessels, internal organs, and glands. They are alternately termed the motor pathways. Their role is to carry out to the body, from every level in the nervous system, all of the impulses which control the appropriate contraction and lengthening of the entire musculature. Their signals are translated into the various behavioral effects which the mind chooses in response to input.
Deane Juhan (Job's Body: A Handbook for Bodywork)
Think of the Internet and your friends, followers, and fans as one big conference room. When you do that, you will understand what behaviors are appropriate and what stuff will make people report you as spam. You should conduct yourself as you would if you walked into a professional event where there are some people you’re familiar with in varying degrees and some you do not know at all.
Luvvie Ajayi Jones (I'm Judging You: The Do-Better Manual)
NOVELS Coetzee, J.M. Disgrace. Exley, Frederick. A Fan's Notes. Kohler, Sheila. One Girl. Miller, Henry. Tropic of Cancer. Salter, James. Light Years, A Sport and a Pastime. Stone, Robert. Dog Soldiers. Welch, James. The Death of Jim Loney. Wharton, Edith. The Age of Innocence. White, Edmund. The Beautiful Room Is Empty. SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS Bloom, Amy. Come to Me. Cameron, Peter. The Half You Don't Know. Carver, Raymond. Where I'm Calling From. Cheever, John. The Stories of John Cheever. Gaitskill, Mary. Bad Behavior, Because They Wanted To. Houston, Pam. Cowboys Are My Weakness. Johnson, Denis. Jesus' Son. Nugent, Beth. City of Boys. O'Brien, Tim. The Things They Carried. O'Connor, Flannery. The Complete Stories. Paley, Grace. Enormous Changes at the Last Minute. Perrotta, Tom. Bad Haircut. White, Edmund. Skinned Alive. Yates, Richard. Liars in Love.
The New York Writers Workshop (The Portable MFA in Creative Writing (New York Writers Workshop))
The thing creators have to remember is that to a very real extent they are fictional characters to their fans—and that what fans want (the product they like, they way they like it, served up by someone who they often see as being just like them, only more interesting/exciting/successful/etc) isn’t always going to conform to what they actually need in their lives. Additionally, fans will construct narratives to justify whatever behavior a creator dishes up…as long as the end result is more of what they want. Enabling! It’s a thing.
John Scalzi (Don't Live For Your Obituary: Advice, Commentary and Personal Observations on Writing, 2008-2017)
The Linux world behaves in many respects like a free market or an ecology, a collection of selfish agents attempting to maximize utility which in the process produces a self-correcting spontaneous order more elaborate and efficient than any amount of central planning could have achieved. Here, then, is the place to seek the “principle of understanding”. The “utility function” Linux hackers are maximizing is not classically economic, but is the intangible of their own ego satisfaction and reputation among other hackers. (One may call their motivation “altruistic”, but this ignores the fact that altruism is itself a form of ego satisfaction for the altruist). Voluntary cultures that work this way are not actually uncommon; one other in which I have long participated is science fiction fandom, which unlike hackerdom has long explicitly recognized “egoboo” (ego-boosting, or the enhancement of one’s reputation among other fans) as the basic drive behind volunteer activity. Linus, by successfully positioning himself as the gatekeeper of a project in which the development is mostly done by others, and nurturing interest in the project until it became self-sustaining, has shown an acute grasp of Kropotkin’s “principle of shared understanding”. This quasi-economic view of the Linux world enables us to see how that understanding is applied. We may view Linus’s method as a way to create an efficient market in “egoboo” — to connect the selfishness of individual hackers as firmly as possible to difficult ends that can only be achieved by sustained cooperation. With the fetchmail project I have shown (albeit on a smaller scale) that his methods can be duplicated with good results. Perhaps I have even done it a bit more consciously and systematically than he. Many people (especially those who politically distrust free markets) would expect a culture of self-directed egoists to be fragmented, territorial, wasteful, secretive, and hostile. But this expectation is clearly falsified by (to give just one example) the stunning variety, quality, and depth of Linux documentation. It is a hallowed given that programmers hate documenting; how is it, then, that Linux hackers generate so much documentation? Evidently Linux’s free market in egoboo works better to produce virtuous, other-directed behavior than the massively-funded documentation shops of commercial software producers. Both the fetchmail and Linux kernel projects show that by properly rewarding the egos of many other hackers, a strong developer/coordinator can use the Internet to capture the benefits of having lots of co-developers without having a project collapse into a chaotic mess. So to Brooks’s Law I counter-propose the following: Provided the development coordinator has a communications medium at least as good as the Internet, and knows how to lead without coercion, many heads are inevitably better than one.
Eric S. Raymond (Cathedral and the Bazaar: Musings on Linux and Open Source by an Accidental Revolutionary)
It is true that surveillance can at times promote what some may consider desirable behavior. One study found that rowdiness in Swedish soccer stadiums—fans throwing bottles and lighters onto the field—declined by 65 percent after the introduction of security cameras. And public health literature on hand washing has
Glenn Greenwald (No Place to Hide: Edward Snowden, the NSA, and the U.S. Surveillance State)
Christopher reached out to pet Hector, who nuzzled against his hand. His gentleness with the animal was reassuring. Perhaps, Beatrix thought hopefully, he wasn’t as angry as she had feared Taking a deep breath, she said, “The reason that I named him Hector--” “No,” Christopher moved with startling swiftness, trapping her against the post of the stall. His voice was low and rough. “Let’s start with this: did you help Prudence to write those letters?” Beatrix’s eyes widened as she looked into his shadowed face. Her blood surged, a flush rising to the surface of her skin. “No,” she managed to say, “I didn’t help her.” “Then who did?” “No one helped her.” It was the truth. It just wasn’t the entire truth. “You know something,” he insisted. “And you’re going to tell me what it is.” She could feel his fury. The air was charged with it. Her heart thrummed like a bird’s. And she struggled to contain a swell of emotion that was almost more than she could bear. “Let me go,” she said with exceptional calm. “You’re doing neither of us any good with this behavior.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t use your bloody dog-training voice on me.” “That wasn’t my dog-training voice. And if you’re so intent on getting at the truth, why aren’t you asking Prudence?” “I have asked her. She lied. As you are lying now.” “You’ve always wanted Prudence,” Beatrix burst out. “Now you can have her. Why should a handful of letters matter?” “Because I was deceived. And I want to know how and why.” “Pride,” Beatrix said bitterly. “That’s all this is to you…your pride was hurt.” One of hands sank into her hair, gripping in a gentle but inexorable hold. A gasp slipped from her throat as he pulled her head back. “Don’t try to diver the conversation. You know something you’re not telling me.” His free hand came to the exposed line of her throat. For a heart-stopping moment she thought he might choke her. Instead he caressed her gently, his thumb moving in a subtle swirl in the hollow at the base. The intensity of her own reaction astonished her. Beatrix’s eyes half closed. “Stop,” she said faintly. Taking her responsive shiver as a sign of distaste or fear, Christopher lowered his head until his breath fanned her cheek. “Not until I have the truth.” Never. If she told him, he would hate her for the way she had deceived and abandoned him. Some mistakes could not be forgiven. “Go to hell,” Beatrix said unsteadily. She had never used such a phrase in her life. “I am in hell.” His body corralled hers, his legs intruding amid the folds of her skirts. Drowning in guilt and fear and desire, she tried to push his caressing hand away from her throat. His fingers delved into her hair with a grip just short of painful. His mouth was close to hers. He was surrounding her, all the strength and force and maleness of him, and she closed her eyes as her senses went quiet and dark in helpless waiting. “I’ll make you tell me,” she heard him mutter. And then he was kissing her. Somehow, Beatrix thought hazily, Christopher seemed to be under the impression she would find his kisses so objectionable that she would confess anything to make him desist. She couldn’t think how he had come by such a notion. In fact, she couldn’t really think at all.
Lisa Kleypas (Love in the Afternoon (The Hathaways, #5))
If brute force wouldn't suffice, however, there was always the famous Viking cunning. The fleet was put to anchor and under a flag of truce some Vikings approached the gate. Their leader, they claimed, was dying and wished to be baptized as a Christian. As proof, they had brought along the ailing Hastein on a litter, groaning and sweating.  The request presented a moral dilemma for the Italians. As Christians they could hardly turn away a dying penitent, but they didn't trust the Vikings and expected a trick. The local count, in consultation with the bishop, warily decided to admit Hastein, but made sure that he was heavily guarded. A detachment of soldiers was sent to collect Hastein and a small retinue while the rest of the Vikings waited outside.  Despite the misgivings, the people of Luna flocked to see the curiosity of a dreaded barbarian peacefully inside their city. The Vikings were on their best behavior as they were escorted to the cathedral, remaining silent and respectful. Throughout the service, which probably lasted a few hours, Hastein was a picture of reverence and weakness, a dying man who had finally seen the light. The bishop performed the baptism, and the count stood in as godfather, christening Hastein with a new name. When the rite had concluded, the Vikings respectfully picked up the litter and carried their stricken leader back to the ships.  That night, a Viking messenger reappeared at the gates, and after thanking the count for allowing the baptism, sadly informed him that Hastein had died. Before he expired, however, he had asked to be given a funeral mass and to be buried in the holy ground of the cathedral cemetery.  The next day a solemn procession of fifty Vikings, each dressed in long robes of mourning, entered the city carrying Hastein's corpse on a bier. Virtually all the inhabitants of the city had turned out to witness the event, joining the cavalcade all the way to the cathedral. The bishop, surrounded by a crowd of monks and priests bearing candles, blessed the coffin with holy water, and led the entire procession inside.  As the bishop launched into the funerary Mass, reminding all good Christians to look forward to the day of resurrection, the coffin lid was abruptly thrown to the ground and a very much alive Hastein leapt out. As he cut down the bishop, his men threw off their cloaks and drew their weapons. A few ran to bar the doors, the rest set about slaughtering the congregation.  At the same time – perhaps alerted by the tolling bell – Bjorn Ironside led the remaining Vikings into the city and they fanned out, looking for treasure. The plundering lasted for the entire day. Portable goods were loaded onto the ships, the younger citizens were spared to be sold as slaves, and the rest were killed. Finally, when night began to fall, Hastein called off the attack. Since nothing more could fit on their ships, they set fire to the city and sailed away.97 For the next two years, the Norsemen criss-crossed the Mediterranean, raiding both the African and European coasts. There are even rumors that they tried to sack Alexandria in Egypt, but were apparently unable to take it by force or stealth.
Lars Brownworth (The Sea Wolves: A History of the Vikings)
In 1991, a college sophomore studying music in the American Midwest made the mistake of selling some drugs to the wrong person. Until then, he hadn’t done much more than smoke pot and sell some of it to his friends. Petty vandalism at his high school was as high stakes as his criminal career had been. Then, as these things tend to go when you’re just 18 years old, he tried to push the envelope and test his boundaries. He started experimenting with hard drugs like LSD. But he was naive, and the brashness of youth got the best of him. He sold some of that LSD outside his circle—to an undercover policeman. And as if his luck couldn’t get worse, like a scene out of a TV movie of the week, the judge, under pressure to make an example out of this young man, sentenced him to 6 to 25 years in prison. It’s a faceless, timeless story that transcends race, class, and region. A young kid makes a mistake that forever changes their lives and their family’s lives as well. We are all too familiar with how stories like this usually end: The kid spends their most impressionable years behind bars and comes out worse than when they went in. Life on the outside is too difficult to contend with; habits learned on the inside are too difficult to shed. They reoffend; their crimes escalate. The cycle continues. This story, however, is a little different. Because this young man didn’t go back to jail. In fact, after being released in less than 5 years on good behavior, he went on to become one of the best jazz violinists in the world. He left prison with a fire lit underneath him—to practice, to repent, to humble himself, to hustle, and to do whatever it took to make something of his life. No task was too small, no gig was too tiny, no potential fan was too disinterested for him not to give it everything he had. And he did. The story is a little different for another reason, too. That young man’s name is Christian Howes. He is my older brother.
Lewis Howes (The School of Greatness: A Real-World Guide to Living Bigger, Loving Deeper, and Leaving a Legacy)
Perhaps more than any other genre, horror gives its fans the gratifying daze of repetition. A ghost always begins by coming back against the calendar. Horror’s conventions are so ingrained that these films can speak in sketches — a narrative shorthand — where characters are types with familiar patterns of motivation, backstory, and behavior. This has been a major reason people criticize the genre, but I find the predictability of horror comforting. Each night at 3 am, I hear her weep outside my door. At home in the returning of a trope.
Claire Cronin (Blue Light of the Screen: On Horror, Ghosts, and God)
The apparent bending of sound waves around corners is an example of diffraction, which is a characteristic behavior of waves encountering an obstacle. When a wave reaches a barrier with an opening in it, like the wall containing an open door from the kitchen into the dining room, the waves passing through the opening don’t just keep going straight, but fan out over a range of different directions. How quickly they spread depends on the wavelength of the wave and the size of the opening through On the left, a wave with a short wavelength encounters an opening much larger than the wavelength, and the waves continue more or less straight through. On the right, a wave with a long wavelength encounters an opening comparable to the wavelength, and the waves diffract through a large range of directions. which they travel. If the opening is much larger than the wavelength, there will be very little bending, but if the opening is comparable to the wavelength, the waves will fan out over the full available range.
Chad Orzel (How to Teach Physics to Your Dog)
The apparent bending of sound waves around corners is an example of diffraction, which is a characteristic behavior of waves encountering an obstacle. When a wave reaches a barrier with an opening in it, like the wall containing an open door from the kitchen into the dining room, the waves passing through the opening don’t just keep going straight, but fan out over a range of different directions. How quickly they spread depends on the wavelength of the wave and the size of the opening through
Chad Orzel (How to Teach Physics to Your Dog)
...regardless of our willingness to do vulnerability, it does us. When we pretend that we can avoid vulnerability we engage in behaviors that are often inconsistent with who we want to be. Experiencing vulnerability isn't a choice--the only choice we have is how we're going to respond when we are confronted with uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure. As a huge fan of the band Rush, this seems like the perfect place to throw in a quote from their song 'Freewill': 'If you choose not to decide, you have still made a choice.
Brené Brown (Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead)
VIOLATION SERIOUSNESS SENTENCE PRINCIPAL’S COMMENTS DISRUPTING DETENTION According to a report from Lady Cadence, Keefe and Sophie Foster were repeatedly caught talking during detention and earned extra punishment. 2 out of 10 One additional detention assigned. I’m not a fan of Lady Cadence’s attitude toward her position as a Foxfire Mentor. But she’s volunteered to supervise the majority of the year’s detentions. And given the punishments she’s planning (I hear today’s involved curdleroots!), I think she may be able to curtail Keefe’s behavior. —Dame Alina VIOLATION SERIOUSNESS SENTENCE PRINCIPAL’S COMMENTS DISRUPTING STUDY HALL According to a report from Sir Rosings, Keefe was talking to Sophie Foster and Dex Dizznee—and when Sir Rosings warned them to stop, Keefe threatened to fill Sir Rosings’s desk with sparkly poop. Punishment was assigned to all three prodigies. 2 out of 10 One additional detention assigned. I suppose I should be concerned about how many detentions Keefe has accrued in his first week of sessions. But… I can’t bring myself to care. I think something is going on with Alden Vacker. His children have been absent all week and there was some sort of commotion at the Opening Ceremonies. But every time I’ve asked the Council for information, they’ve denied my request. —Dame Alina
Shannon Messenger (Unlocked (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #8.5))