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Goodman and Soni answer questions on Claude Shannon

Rob Goodman and Jimmy Soni have published a biography of Claude Shannon entitled A Mind at Play: How Claude Shannon Invented the Information Age. They recently conducted a Reddit AMA; I have excerpted parts I found personally interesting and left their punctuation intact.


Q: What can I take away from how Shannon thinks, works, and lives and apply today to think, work, or live better?

That’s actually one of the most interesting things about his life and work: There’s a lot for us to take away from it. Sometimes when you’re think of figures like Einstein or Turing, they seem like they’re on Mount Olympus–and that all of us mere mortals can study them from afar but not embrace the way they did their wok because it was so unique.

Shannon’s work had similar scientific force and impact, but he was also down-to-earth. A few of the lessons that stood out to us:

1) Learn to be by yourself and in quiet places – Shannon was an introvert, but we think contributed to his scientific imagination. He was comfortable being alone and thinking hard for long stretches of time. He also did this in places that lent themselves to that kind of thought: spartan bachelor apartments, an office whose door was usually closed. We can’t imagine him trying to bang out information theory at Starbucks.

2) Study many disciplines – Yes, Shannon was a train mathematician and engineer. But he was an equally skilled machinist and gadgeteer, one of the early pioneers of artificial intelligence, a unicyclist, a juggler, and a lot of other things. He had an omnivorous curiosity and it served him well. He was able to use all these disparate things to create the work that he did.

3) Don’t worry about external recognition so much – Shannon could barely be bothered about awards and honors. He found them amusing diversions from the work. Sometimes his wife or a mentor had to force him to actually go to the trouble of accepting awards. And even when he did, he did it with levity. (For instance, he hung all the honorary degrees he won from a rotating tie rack!). Why does this matter? Because he was running his own race. He wasn’t trying to go after a specific award or honor, so he was free to do what he did his entire life: let his curiosity wander to the places it wanted to go.

That’s just some of the lessons. We wrote more of them up here, and happy to go into any of these in further depth .

Let me add one more that I think about a lot: work with your hands. This was something Shannon did for basically his entire life. He would take things apart, put them back together, and see if he could improve on how they worked. Even at the very end stages of his life, when he was in a nursing home battling alzheimer’s, he would take apart his walker and try to imagine a better design for it.

Why does that matter? Because I think it gave him a quality that one engineer described as “not only the ability to think about things but through things.” It was a powerful part of his work–and I think it’s something we might take for granted in our own.

My guess is that the problem-solving and tactile pieces of working with your hands offer some brain-enhancing effects. But I also think there’s a broader point about appreciation and craftsmanship. There’s a great book on the topic called Shopclass as Soulcraft that’s worth checking out.

I think Shannon could anticipate future robotics because he didn’t just write papers, he built robots. He could imagine an artificially intelligent world because he built an artificially intelligent mouse. I don’t know how to reclaim that sort of thing exactly, but I know it’s a powerful part of what made him who he was.


Q: Are there any big misconceptions about Shannon’s life that this book dispels?

I think one major misconception about Shannon’s life is that the second half of it didn’t amount to much, or was even some kind of waste of talent. It’s true that Shannon’s most groundbreaking work was done at an early age (so early that it makes me wince when I compare my own 20s and 30s). At 21, Shannon’s master’s thesis explained how binary switches could perform Boolean logic, and laid a key foundation for digital computers. And at 32, of course, Shannon’s “Mathematical Theory of Communication” inaugurated information theory and won him international fame.

I’ve heard Shannon compared to a professional athlete in this regard–his key accomplishments came in his relative youth, and then there was a long stretch of time in which he lacked direction by comparison.

But there are three reasons why I think this is a misconception. First, Shannon helped to set the agenda of a wide range of emerging fields even after his work on information theory. He developed (along with his colleague Robert Fano, and followed by Fano’s student David Huffman) some pioneering digital codes for compressing messages. He was a pioneer in early thought about artificial intelligence. He developed one of the first chess-playing computers (which could handle six pieces in the endgame), and wrote a paper on computer chess that was influential in the field for decades to come. Along with Ed Thorp, he built arguably the first wearable computer (used to beat the house at roulette).

Second, the methods that Shannon used to do this later work weren’t that distinct from the methods he used in his earlier work. His interests were consistently promiscuous. He loved thinking with his hands, and not just abstractly. He loved picking up on strange and playful analogies. He asked questions that others were liable to dismiss as unworthy of a serious scientist. It’s true that nothing Shannon did in his later life lived up to his “hits.” But I think it’s important to judge process, not results–and we can learn a lot from Shannon’s process even later in life. He outlined a lot of his key insights in that regard–like the virtue of simplifying problems–in a talk he gave to Bell Labs employees on creative thinking, which we dug up from the archives and discussed in our Shannon book.

Third, Shannon’s later life is worth knowing about because it was just fun. Here’s a guy who could have gone on pursuing the trappings of scientific celebrity and pontificating on whatever he felt like–but instead, given that kind of freedom, he tinkered in his two-story workshop and followed his curiosity wherever it took him. Things like Shannon’s flaming trumpet, customized unicycle fleet, or juggling robots aren’t of huge scientific interest–but they tell you a lot, in my opinion, about the kind of mind that’s capable of Shannon-sized breakthroughs.


Q: Would you describe Shannon as someone who was hard on himself with a tireless work ethic? Did he want to always be productive every moment of the day or did he let himself relax and do nothing in particular if he felt like it?

Almost always the latter.

I don’t mean to suggest that Shannon was lazy–like lots of remarkably successful people, he had his bouts of intense and concentrated activity. This was especially true in his younger years–we discuss some accounts from an acquaintance of his at the time he was working on his information theory paper, who says that Shannon would compulsively scribble ideas on napkins, or stare into space in deep concentration, or mention getting up in the middle of the night to work when struck by an idea. So when Shannon was in the midst of one of his highly creative periods, he certainly had a capacity for work to match anyone.

But what really distinguished Shannon was that he didn’t try to force it. We called our book A Mind at Play because we think that captures Shannon so well. He asked silly questions, loved tinkering in his workshop, and was often seen unicycling down the hallways of Bell Labs. He had a folder of “Letters I’ve Procrastinated on for Too Long.” And he approached his work in just the same spirit–we called it “play of the adult kind,” or play with ideas and concepts.

In other words, the main lesson we take from Shannon’s life in this regard is that the people who are most productive on the scale the matters–like, world-changingly productive–don’t worry about being productive every single hour. They can work intensely when they need to, but they also know how much is to be gained from letting the mind wander.


Q: What’s the biggest difference in the way a genius approaches the world versus the way a merely very intelligent person does?

It’s a really interesting question, and one we had in the back of our head as we were working on this project. I’m not sure how valuable our thoughts on the subject are, but fortunately we have Claude Shannon’s thoughts!

During our research, we found the transcript of a 1952 speech he gave to his fellow Bell Labs scientists on the topic of “Creative Thinking,” and it’s the best account we came across of Shannon describing how his own mind worked. He spoked about the need for a fundamental drive “to find out what makes things tick.” That drive was indispensable: “If you don’t have that, you may have all the training and intelligence in the world, [but] you don’t have the questions and you won’t just find the answers.” Shannon was choosing his words carefully when he said that you have to “have the questions.” The greatest reward in his line of work may be the satisfaction that comes with resolving intellectual puzzles: “If I’ve been trying to prove a mathematical theorem for a week or so and I finally get the solution, I get a big bang out of it.”

So where does that drive come from? Shannon’s most interesting formulation of that quality put it like this: it was “a slight irritation when things don’t look quite right,” or a “constructive dissatisfaction.” For Shannon, an original thinker–or even a genius–is simply someone who is usefully irritated.

Shannon left his colleagues with a final, particularly challenging thought: “I think that good research workers apply these things unconsciously; that is, they do these things automatically.” In other words, Shannon didn’t expect geniuses to sit around waiting for bursts of inspiration–he was much more interested in how to cultivate the right habits, until “constructive dissatisfaction” becomes a kind of second nature.

When Hades found that Nico is gay:

Nico.

So it’s true? Jason told Piper about it. And Piper told Annabeth and Hazel. Hazel told Frank and Annabeth told Thalia. Frank told coach Hedge and coach Hedge told Leo. Leo told Chiron and Chiron told Zeus. Zeus told the Olympus and the Olympus told me. (and Gaea knows about it too.)

- Hades

P.S. Percy doesn’t know yet.

anonymous asked:

*shyly whispers* do u think u could do another Greek Mythology story~

“Your tapestries are so fine,” the merchant says in wonder, “that you must be blessed by the goddess Athena.”

Arachne tosses her head, braided hair falling over her shoulder like an obsidian waterfall, “What’s Athena got to do with it? My hands wove these, not hers.”

The merchant blanches and looks to the sky, as if expecting Zeus himself to smite them for blasphemy. Personally, she thinks the king of the gods has better thing to do with his time. “Ah,” he says weakly, “I suppose.”

He pays her for her wares and she leaves, almost immediately bumping into a hunched old woman with grey eyes. “Do you not owe Athena thanks for your talent?” she croaks, gnarled hands curled over a cane.

Arachne is not stupid, but she is foolish. They will tell tales of it. She looks into those grey eyes and declares, “Athena should thank me, since my talents earn her so much praise.”

She pushes past her and keeps walking, ignoring the goddess in humans skin as she disappears into the crowd.

They will tell tales of her hubris. They will all be true.

~

The next day she bumps into the same old woman at the market. Everything goes downhill from there.

“Know your place, mortal,” Athena says, grey eyes narrowed. There is a crowd around them, and Arachne could save herself, could walk away unscathed, and all she has to do is say her weaving is inferior to that of a goddess.

She will not lie.

“I do,” she says coolly, “and in this matter, it is above you.”

She is not honest as a virtue, but as a vice.

Athena challengers her to a weaving contest. She accepts.

~

Gods are not so hard to find, if you know where to look.

“It’s a volcano,” the baker repeats, looking down at her coins, as if he feels guilty for taking money from someone who’s clearly not all there.

She grabs her bag of sweet breads and adds it to her pack before swinging it over her shoulders, “Yes, I know. Half a day’s walk, you said?”

“A volcano,” he insists, as if she did not hear him perfectly well the first dozen times.

“Thank you for your help,” she says. He’s shaking his head at her, but she knows what she’s doing.

She walks. She grows hungry, but does not touch the bread she paid for, and walks some more. The sun’s begun to set by the time she makes it to the base of the volcano. It’s tall, impossibly large, and for a moment the promise of defeat threatens to overwhelm her.

But Arachne does not believe in defeat, in loss. They will tell tales of her hubris. Those tales will be true.

She ties a scarf around her braids then hikes her skirt up and ties the material so it falls only to her thighs. She fits work roughened hands into the divots of cooled magma and begins her slow ascent.

~

The muscles in her legs and arms shake, and her hunger pains are almost as distracting. Her once white dress is dirt smeared and torn and sweat makes her itch as it covers her body and drips down her back.

“What are you doing?”

Arachne turns her head and bites back a scream, looking into one giant eye. The cyclops holds easily to the volcano’s edges, even though her hands are torn and bleeding. She swallows and says, “I heard you like honeyed bread. Is it true?”

The creature tilts his head to the side, baring his long fanged teeth at her. She thinks he might be smiling. “You’ve been climbing for hours. What do you want?”

“Is it true?” she repeats, refusing to flinch.

“Yes,” he says, looking at her the same way the baker had, “it’s true.”

“There’s some sweet bread in my pack, baked this morning,” she says, “it should still be soft.”

His hands are big enough and strong enough that it could probably squeeze her head like a grape. Instead he gently undoes her pack and reaches inside. The honey buns look comically small in his large hands, and he swallows half of them in one bite. He licks his fingers clean when he’s done, and his smile is just as terrifying the second time around. “I am Brontes. Why are you climbing my master’s volcano?”

“I’m the weaver Arachne,” she takes a deep breath, “I need your master’s help.”

~

They tell tales of Hephaestus’s ugliness.

They are not true.

He’s got a broad, angular face and short brown hair. His eyes are like amber set into his face, and his arms are huge, and he’s rippling muscle from the waist up. He has legs only to his knees. From there down his legs are bronze gears and golden wire, replacements for the legs destroyed when Hera threw him from Mount Olympus.

“Had your look, girl?” he asks, voice rough like he’s always a moment away from breaking into a coughing fit.

“Yes,” she says, and doesn’t turn away, keeps looking.

His lips quirk up at the corners, so it was the right move. The heat is even more oppressive inside the volcano, and all around him cyclopses work, forging oddly shaped metal that she can’t hope to understand. “You’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble to find me, girl. What do you want?”

She slides her pack off her shoulders and holds it out to the god, “I have a gift for your wife. I have woven her a cloak.”

He raises an eyebrow and doesn’t reach for the bag, “You believe something made with mortal hands could be worthy of the goddess of beauty?”

They will tell tales of her hubris.

“Yes.”

They will all be true.

With a gust of wind the oppressive heat of the volcano is swept away, leaving her chilled. In its place stands a woman – more than a woman. Aphrodite has skin like the copper of her husband’s machines and hair dark and thick and long. Her eyes are deepest, richest brown, piercing in their intelligence. People don’t tell tales of Aphrodite’s cleverness. That is because people are stupid.

“Let’s see it then,” she says, reaching inside the pack and pulling the cloak from its depths.

It unrolls beautifully. It’s made from the finest silks, and it shimmers in the light from the forges. The hem of the cloak is sea foam, speaking of Aphrodite’s beginning, and up along the cloak is intricate patterns it tells of her life, of her marriage and her worshippers and escapades, all with the detail of the most experienced artist and the reverence of her most devoted followers.

Her lips part in surprise and she slides it on, twirling like a child. “Gorgeous,” Hephaestus says, though Arachne knows he does not speak of the cloak. She doesn’t take offense.

The goddess smiles and Arachne’s heart pounds in her chest. She does her best to ignore it – Aphrodite is the goddess of love, after all. It is only expected. “Very well,” the goddess says, “you have my attention.”

Arachne swallows. Aphrodite’s attention is a heavy thing. “I have offended Athena,” she says, “She has challenged me to a weaving contest.”

Their faces somber. Hephaestus rubs the edge of a sleeve between his fingers and says, “Athena will lose such a contest, if judged fairly. She does not take loss well.”

“I know,” she says, “you are friendly with Hades, are you not?”

There are no tales of their friendship. But she’s staking her life on its existence, because why wouldn’t it exist – both of them even tempered, both shunned by Olympus, both happily married.

Gods hate being made to feel lesser. It is why they say Persephone was kidnapped, why they say Aphrodite cheats with Ares. It is why Athena will crush her when Arachne wins the weaving contest.

“Clever girl,” Hephaestus says, smiling.

Aphrodite stares at her reflection in a convenient piece of polished silver. Arachne assumes Hephaestus left if lying there for that express purpose. “Very well!” the goddess says, not looking at her, “when Athena sends you to the underworld, we will entrench upon our uncle for your release.” She turns on her heel and points a finger at her. Arachne blushes for no reason she can think of. “In return, you will weave me a gown, one equal to my own beauty.”

A gown as exquisite as the goddess of beauty. An impossible task.

They will tell tales of her hubris.

“I accept.”

They will all be true.

~

The contest goes as expected. Athena’s tapestry is lovely, but Arachne’s is lovelier.

The goddess’s face goes red in rage, and her grey eyes narrow. Arachne stands tall, ready to accept the death blow coming for her.

The blow comes.

Death does not.

~

She is an insect. Even if she can make it back to Hephaestus’s volcano, even if they can help her, they will not know it is her. She has no hope left, no course of action, she should just give up. But –

She doesn’t believe in defeat, in loss.

It was a terribly long journey on foot, that first time. It is even longer this time, although now she has eight legs instead of two. She makes it to the volcano, and creeps in between crevices, until she finds out a hollowed room, one with a sliver of sunlight and plenty of bugs to keep her fed.

Athena’s cruel joke of allowing her to weave will be her downfall. Her silk comes out a golden yellow color – it will look exquisite against Aphrodite’s copper skin.

~

It takes seven years for her to complete it. She hasn’t left this room in the volcano in all that time, and as soon as it’s done she scurries out back toward the village. She’s a large insect, but not that large.

She arrives just as the sun begins to rise, and leaves before the first rays have even touched the earth, her prize tied to her back with her own silk.

Arachne doesn’t return to her room. Instead she goes to the more popular parts of the volcano, hurries and runs around terrifying stomping feet until she finds who she’s looking for and scurries up his leg and onto his shoulder.

“Huh,” Brontes looks onto his shoulder and blinks. “What on earth are you?”

She cautiously skitters down his arm, waiting. He bends closer and lightly touches her back. “Is – is that a piece of a honey bun?”

She looks up at him, waiting. It’s her only chance, if he doesn’t remember, if he doesn’t understand –

His face slowly fills with a cautious kind of wonder. “Arachne?”  She jumps in place, being unable to nod, and Brontes cautiously cradles her in his massive hands, “We must find the Master immediately!”

She jumps down, landing in front of him and running forward. “Wait!” he calls, and she makes sure he’s running after her before skittering back to her corner of the cave. It’s almost too small for him to enter but he squeezes inside and breathes, “Oh.” He stares for several moments, and Arachne climbs her web and waits. Brontes shakes himself out of his reverie and uses his powerful wings to bellow, “MISTRESS APHRODITE!”

There’s that same breeze and she’s in the crevice with them, “What was so important, Brontes, that you had to yell?”

Arachne sees the exact moment that the goddess sees the gown, golden yellow and glimmering, made entirely of spider silk. “Beautiful,” she says, reaching out a hand to brush down the bodice. Her head then snaps up, “Brontes, where’s Arachne?”

She warms at that, that Aphrodite knew it was her weaving even though she hasn’t been seen in seven years.

They’ve told tales of her hubris.

They are all true.

Brontes points at the web, and Aphrodite steps over and holds out her hands. Arachne crawls onto the goddess’s palms. “Athena is more powerful than I am, I cannot undo her work,” she says, “but I know someone who can.”

Then they are in front of a river. A handsome young man stands there waiting with a boat. “Goddess Aphrodite,” he says, “we weren’t expecting you.”

“Thanatos,” she returns, “I need to see Persephone.”

The man’s face stays cool, and for a moment Arachne fears they will be refused and she will be stuck in this form forever. Then he smiles and says, “My lady is of course available for her favored niece.” He holds out a hand to help her onto the boat, “Please come with me.”

~

Arachne weaves a dress for Hades’s wife as a thank you, and returns to her volcano.

“I can take you somewhere else,” Aphrodite says, “you don’t have to hide here.”

Arachne pauses at her loom. She has lived in this volcano for seven years. It’s her home. “Would you like me to leave?” she asks instead.

Aphrodite scoffs, “Of course not! How could I dress myself without you here?” She’s wearing the spider silk dress Arachne spun for her, and she’s working on another for the goddess now. Aphrodite runs a gentle finger down Arachne’s cheek and for a moment she forgets to breathe. “You are the finest weaver to ever exist.”

She looks up at the goddess, “Then as the god of crafts and goddess of beautiful things, where else would I belong besides with you and Hephaestus?”

To declare your company equal to that of gods is the height of arrogance and blasphemy.

They tell tales of her hubris.

“An excellent point,” Aphrodite murmurs, and tucks a stray braid behind Arachne’s ear.

They are all true.

gods and monsters series part iii

  • Zeus: Brother *smiles* would you please take care of my baby?
  • Hades: *Secretly exited* No, I'm not a babysitter.
  • Zeus: Pleeeeease *keeps smiling*
  • Hades: *Internally smiling* Don't beg you sound like a puppy *frowns*
  • Zeus: Please brother, I'll pay you.
  • Hades: What would I want money for? *grins* Just bring the little monster here, I'll do it.
  • Zeus: *brings the baby*
  • Hades: He's so pretty! *coughs* I mean... just... *blushes* go away already...
instagram
  • natgeo Video by @ronan_donovan // Timelapse of clouds building over Mount Olympus in Greece. Famous throughout history as the home of the Greek Gods, Mount Olympus rises 2,918m or 9,573ft from the Aegean Sea in northern Greece. I was obsessed with the Greek mythology as a kid - The Odyssey with all its characters - so hiking this mountain was a special experience for me. Hop on over to @ronan_donovan to see a story of the entire climb.
pjo musical: the rundown

so i went to see the lightning thief with @angelicomma yesterday and um. oKAY GUYS GALS AND NONBINARY PALS LEMME TELL U ABOUT THIS MOTHER!FUCKIN! SHOW!!!! because it was SO GOOD this is just like. the short list of what i loved about it because oh my god 

prepare for the longest post ever 

  • the set was such an aesthetic? it was all very metallic like there was scaffolding and greek columns with graffiti on them? it was very chb and very nyc and overall a Blessing 
  • every time they needed to show a different location they’d do it with the lights so like there were these lights lining the scaffolding that would change color ?? in the underworld they’d flash red, yellow and orange and were made to look like fire and near the ocean theyd be blue and if they were talking about trees itd be green and! if they wanted u to focus on a certain part of the scaffolding it’d be a different light color than any of the other parts which was rad af
  • the overhead lights were used really well too like when percy was singing about being the son of poseidon or when there was water the lights would be blue and when they were in the forest theyd be green
  • there is an entire song about how they hate new jersey and how they refuse to die in the garden state. know this
  • the show was very low budget like oh my god it was great
  • they didnt make some of their own props so sally walked in once with a trader joe’s bag and also the most important bag in the world (containing the master bolt) was a fucking jansport 
  • their representation of water was just to attach toilet paper rolls to leaf blowers and turn the overhead lights blue like what even
  • they covered the first 4 rows in toilet paper at one point 
  • also they fuckin deca-casted everyone except for percy (chris mccarrell, the light of my life actually he was so good) 
  • jonathan raviv played chiron, auntie em, random chb girl in a bike helmet and braids (?), random tractor guy (?), a bus driver, a train conductor, hades, and poseidon and im probably missing someone. he had very distinctive characters for all of them not to mention horse puns 
    • “the gods are kind of dicks”
    • medusa’s eyes were just light up swim goggles
  • sarah beth pfeifer, who probably has the best comic timing ive seen ever, played clarisse, katie gardner, a fucking squirrel?, mrs. dodds, lotus casino girl, random camper assistant to mr. d, and thalia 
    • *chases annabeth down a flight of stairs with a sword while screaming* 
    • “for their sixteenth birthdays my friends all got cars. I got a fern and a mason jar!” 
    • “ARROWS ARE MADE WITH WOOD. I REFUSE TO PARTICIPATE IN AN ACTIVITY THAT CONDONES VIOLENCE AGAINST OUR ARBOR BRETHREN!”
  • they had the most roles and they were GREAT 
  • george salazar was such a wonderful grover and mr d oh man 
    • mr d’s whole gag was he’d kick a chair when he got pissed which was hysterical bc the camper assistant would start pouting every time and he also wanted to turn percy into a dolphin 
    • “grover, are you ever going to wear pants again?” “NOPE!” 
    • his solo song was about thalia and how he couldnt save her talk about EMOTIONAL he cried
    • dam jokes
      • we might have more drachmas if you didnt spend them on those DAM SNACKS” “HEY! IT WAS THE HOOVER DAM” 
  • let me talk about. carrie compere for like multiple hot seconds bc GODDAMN GIRL CAN SANG 
  • she was such a good sally. can she be my mom. she sang a song abt percy being special and wonderful and i got a lil teary 
    • “you saved my life, percy. It’s time i learned how to live it.” cryin g 
  • her silena was really funny? like very whiny but very funny.
    •  “every time i bring a boy home, my mom’s there in her nightie […] she steals my mascara and all my dates!” 
  • she also played sort of charon? underworld guide in this awesome gold dress (she looked SO GOOD) who smacked grover’s goat ass (?????) 
    • “you know, bringing people to the underworld isn’t my only job. I also have a band. wanna hear a demo?” “not really?” “sorry, i can’t hear you over this SWEET ASS RIFF” 
    • We got everyone! we got kurt kobain, we got beethoven. any requests?” “um, do you have josh groban?” “we will.” 
  • JAMES! HAYDEN ! RODRIGUEZ! was sO GOOD AS LUKE
  • THERE WAS A GOOD KID REPRISE AND I WAS SHOOKEN 
    • “being a good kid gets you nowhere at all” bruh 
  • they couldn’t have a scorpion onstage so luke just. fucking stabs percy in the back??? 
  • He was also a really funny ares and gabe!! 
  • ok and my gal KRISTIN STOKES 
    • fun fact abt me and kristin stokes ….. so we were walking in the same direction after stage door and so me and @angelicomma just walked with her….to the train…. she gave us dessert recs…… and talked about the show (she’s so salty about how rangey her big solo is but trust me she was so good on that song) and also waitress with us…. it was the best experience of all time she is so nice and cool and was wearing jurassic park leggings how rad is she oh my god
    • her annabeth? was awesome? she was witty and tough and aggressive and i was ABOUT IT 
    • she called out sexism all the damn time 
      • “annabeth, i get it. do you know how many schools i’ve been kicked out of?” “yeah, percy, but when boys mess up they get a second chance.” 
      • “hey, annabeth, who’s your dad?” “he’s a history professor.” “i thought everyone’s dad was-” “a god? that’s my mom. sexist.” 
        • longest yeah boi ever 
    • the moment where she betrayed luke at the end??? YES GIRL
  • chris mccarrell was such a perfect percy i am elated 
    • “Tartarus? LIKE THE FISH SAUCE???!!!?!?!” 
    • *swings riptide like a lightsaber while making lightsaber noises* 
    • *packages medusa’s head* “To Mount Olympus. Signed, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.” “the gods will think we’re impertinent!” “*winning smile* we are impertinent.” 
    • *pouts* “i know how to hold a sword! like this!” annabeth corrects him and he swings it “oh wow actually that’s a lot easier” 
    • in good kid he was like? running around the stage and climbing the scaffolding and shit? and i cried??? the no mom line was the WORST i wanted to actually scream and his voice is so pretty 
    • and he was so shook by his own powers oh man 
    • he was just. so good at the twelve year old thing it was fantastic he was all fidgety and Dramatic ™ god bless
    • he loves sally so much!!! all the demigods were salty af abt their parents and he was just quietly singing like “my mom loves hugs and scary movies” and i just. screamed quietly
  • there were rlly cute percabeth moments too. 
    •  percy’s knocked tf out the first time annabeth meets him (she infiltrates his dream a lil) and he sings a lil song abt how she’s beautiful and stuff and he wakes up and she’s all “YOU DROOL IN YOUR SLEEP” shook 
    • she shows up at capture the flag (percy hasnt officially met her yet) and he points at her and was just “gasps YOURE MY DREAM GIRL!” and annabeth side-eyes him hardcore and he goes “UM. THE GIRL. FROM MY DREAM.” 
    • “the god is my mom. sexist.” “NO NO I LOVE GIRLS!” annabeth is shook yet again and percy panics and is like “I MEAN UM THEYRE VERY NICE” 
      • percy gets serious side eye from luke
      • it’s great  
    • when percy gets stabbed they almost kiss and then grover RUNS ONSTAGE “HEY! here’s your ambrosia percy” goddamn it was DRAMATIC
  • im definitely missing shit but oh boy it was so so good
  • i’d kill a man for that soundtrack  
  • if you have the chance (and the money) it’s just. such an Experience and everything i could have ever dreamed of. the cast is great (and theyre all so freakin NICE s/o to kristin especially). 
  • i’d highly recommend it!!! A+ 1000/10