#BrainMatters

[pace-hospitals]

World Brain Day 22 July 2025 – Importance, Theme & History

World Brain Day or International brain day is a global healthcare event observed on the 22nd of July every year, commemorating the awareness of brain diseases. On this day, various local and global organizations and communities gather around, intending to emphasize the increasing awareness and advocacy about health care, education and research of neurological conditions.

✅ History of World Brain Day

On July 22, 1957, the World Federation of Neurology (WFN) was founded. The Public Awareness and Advocacy Committee proposed designating the 22nd of July 2014 as "World Brain Day". This suggestion was presented during the World Congress of Neurology (WCN) Council of Delegates meeting on September 22, 2013, and the delegates enthusiastically endorsed it. At their meeting in February 2014, the Board of Trustees approved the idea of making this a yearly endeavour.

✅ World Brain Day 2025 Theme 

This year, 2025, the World Brain Day theme is "Brain Health for All Ages”. This global theme highlights the importance of brain health throughout the entire human lifespan, beginning before birth and spanning childhood, adulthood, and into old age. The focus lies on advocacy, awareness, equitable care, and lifelong brain well-being.

✅ Year-by-Year Themes for World Brain Day

World Brain Day 2024 theme: Brain Health and Prevention

World Brain Day 2023 theme: Brain Health and Disability: Leave No One Behind

World Brain Day 2022 theme: Brain health for all

World Brain Day 2021 theme: Stop Multiple Sclerosis

World Brain Day 2020 theme: Move together to end Parkinson's disease

World Brain Day 2019 theme: Migraine: The Painful Truth

World Brain Day 2018 theme: Clean air for brain health

At PACE Hospitals, we honour World Brain Day by celebrating our dedicated team of neurologists and brain health specialists. Our experts are committed to providing comprehensive, patient-centred neurological care—ensuring every patient receives the highest standard of treatment and the best possible outcomes for brain health. From advanced neuro procedures to holistic supportive care, our doctors go above and beyond every day to make a difference in our patients’ lives.

👉 Book an appointment with the best doctors in Hyderabad, Telangana, India.

[rabiesram]

some snakerats!!

[sunnydayaoe]

life hack if you are so sick that reading words makes you nasious you should start blasting music so loud you can't even think straight its awesome.

recomend jhariah his musics great if at full volume it leaves no room to think about being incredibly sick

[uhhhhmanda]

I have a sideblog problem. This is my 7th.

[kazucee]

Attickory brainworms memremrnenrmem.

i need someone to hear me out of atticus and hickory so bad i’m not kidding.

[lilmissnatcat24]

You have no idea how much Miranda Lawson saved you.

From the very beginning of Project Lazarus, there was this ideal, this perfect sentiment: bring Shepard back as she was. No one went into it with aspirations of turning you into a super soldier, a biotic weapon to rival commadoes, pimped out with enough cybernetics to power a small fleet. They saw you as an ideal. An idol. The first human Spectre, the Hero of the Citadel. Commander Shepard. A household name, there were already blockbuster vids, action novels, Alliance recruitment pamphlets plastered with your face. They wanted that, not some cheap imitation.

And yet, when you were delivered to Cerberus, you were less of a corpse and more a collection of body parts. Your torso was about the only thing still intact. You left leg landed about five hundred meters away, your right another hundred from that. Your skull had caved in, there was barely any discerning your tongue from your nasal bridge from whatever brainmatter didn't get burned away. Reconstruction was far more extensive than you'll ever know.

Miranda had access to your measurements via Alliance database hack approximately one month before your death. So, sorry if you took to late night binge eating or impromptu jiu-jitsu in the month where you were "searching for geth resistence," but she did the best she could with what she had. And what she had was you. All of your scars, your muscles, your temperament. Making you wouldn't be a problem. Perfecting you, would.

The first sign of trouble came from someone (truly unimportant, she forgot their name entirely) suggesting to fix that nasty scar on your face. It's ugly, they said. Unseemly. Makes you look like a thug, not the savoir of humanity.

Miranda fought for you. Said your scars were earned. Said they were apart of you.

Cerberus disagreed.

Wherever you got them-- Torfan, Elysium, Akuze-- it didn't matter. Really, none of your background did. It didn't matter what you did, who you were. Because suddenly, you weren't just a body on a slab. You were a template, you were a focus test, you were an ideal that Cerberus could mold to make their perfect human.

They wanted to leave out your bottom two ribs to make your waist slimmer. They wanted to lighten up your skin, get rid of all the sun damage and freckles, make you a perfect porcelain doll. They wanted to add a cup size, and then another, until you'd be busting out of the top of your armor that Cerberus would kindly cut out in the chest to show you off. Never mind a bullet to your chest cavity would be fatal. You would be sexy, a bimbo, a woman who would suddenly turn a thousand ships around, someone who would have mercs falling to their knees.

Miranda Lawson looked at you, and saw the one thing she never wanted to see. She saw herself.

She fought harder than she's ever fought before to bring you back as you were. And she may have lost the battle to keep your scar, but she won the ultimate prize. You are you. Without the intervention of postulating men who think that their ideal of the galaxy is perview to their own experience, their wants, their desires.

And the only thing you'll ever know is that the evil ice queen Miranda Lawson once considered implanting you with a control chip.

You never knew that you could have woken up and not recognized your own reflection.

[s-jwoo]

they are making me insane i need them surgically injected into my brainmatter

my favorite moms ever

[eggwishing]

my brainmatter

[theprissythumbelina]

Esa’s eye was caught by something flying through the air high above. She tilted her head back, and watched it spiral lazily down through layers of clouds. Not a bird, she realized as it came closer. Sunlight blazed off blood-red scales. Dragon. It turned and wheeled toward the mountains to the south, and disappeared there. Around her neck, her little green trilled. Esa stroked his head, and let the feelings of longing and fear flow into her. They mixed with her own, but the combination only made her feel less alone. 

Couldn't help myself

So anyway the general plot of A Trial of Dragons is that a rural girl comes across the body of a boy and an injured dragon hatchling. She rescues the hatchling and accidentally bonds with it, so that when soldiers come searching for the boy and the hatchling, she is taken to the capital to be tried for kidnapping, murder, and stealing a dragon. Her trial is presided over by humans bonded to adult dragons, and though she is found innocent of kidnapping and murder, she is found guilty of stealing a dragon, and given to the dragons to pay off her life debt. In the background is an assassination and kidnapping plot against the dragon hatchling.

[sluckythewizard]

[PUT INTO PLACE, TIED DOWN AND ARRANGED, AND IS NEVER THE SAME, AGAIN.]<-listen to my favorite songs. VAMPIRES ARE WONDERFUL ARENT THEY. THE FLESH IS SO MUCH MORE DURABLE. SO MUCH STRETCHIER THAN HUMANS. THE STRESS DOESNT KILL A VAMPIRE THE SAME WAY IT DOES A HUMAN. YOU CAN TAKE THEM APART THREAD BY THREAD AND LEAVE THEM WIDE AWAKE WITHOUT WORRY OF THE BRAINMATTER SPOILING UNDER VINEGARY AGONY.

[space-writes]

heads up seven up tag

tagged by @eccaiia, thank you! since i have now done the very scary thing of sending dragonflesh to actual human beings to beta read it (!!! what??), here’s seven lines (well, six, but one is pretty long) i currently really like~

[ID - a red decorative divider]

The meat of Dreadwing’s brain moulds to the contours of my body, presses to every inch of me, fluids of thought and former life soaking through my threadbare clothing, staining my skin. I feel it only for the first few minutes, as I only smell and taste it for the same, then Astrum’s working takes hold, and the dragon’s senses become my senses. With Dreadwing’s eyes I see not dark brainmatter but the bloodstained floor of the feeding chamber. With Dreadwing’s nose I smell not rotting dragonflesh and sweet magic, but the musk and acrid fear of the bleating goat chained to the centre of the room. Dreadwing’s stomach growls. My stomach, somewhere far away but still sewn into my body, churns with the knowledge of what is to come.

[ID - a red decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @sunset-a-story @vsnotresponding @monstrify @revenantlore and @viscerawrites

[urbestestwindgod]

tf does that mean

How did you become the god(dess) of wind?

Did you just pop out the womb with clouds for hair?

Were you given your domain?

Did you just ask Zeus for a job one day?

hi ml <3 i missed you :3 and yea i did pop out with blue skin and cloud hair and whenever i cried the winds picked up and when i was calmed down they would calm and they continued to reflect my emotions until i learned to control them, i got full control of the winds around 22 which is why im perma 22, and thats why zeus liked me so much bc we were both weather gods and he cares for everyone but his children :D

[tccconfessions2hear]

i get kinda wet looking at the bullet that shot adam lanza & his brainmatter

CONFESSION 742

[defiledtomb]

I will start the final chapter next week. Can you believe it? There's a folder on my puter with an entire world in it. pressed from the cheesecloth of my brainmatter. crazy. But first I'm getting my little rogue Müesli to level 50. look at her

[nicklloydnow]

Illustration by @steve_fagiano_art

“Chigurh stands up to God with an unflinching, uncompromising belief in predetermination—no free will or human choice, no mercy or sentiment, no giving in or letting go or giving up. Principled in the purity of his work, he defies sentiment and falsehood and betrayal. A pure born-again agent of death, anti-Christ Calvinist Chigurh is a man of his deadly word, a relentless avenger, an implacable killer defying God, no less than the diabolic Judge in Blood Meridian. "How to prevail over that which you refuse to acknowledge the existence of" lago was never so clear-minded, Ahab no more manically fixated, Kurtz no less obsessed with his mission to exterminate losers. "The horror! The horror!" What more can a man say of pure evil?” - Kenneth Lincoln, ‘Cormac McCarthy: American Canticles’ (2010) [p. 144, 145]

“Chigurh again adopts the Socratic method in his final encounter with his fellow hitman Carson Wells. Although Wells isn't given the privilege of a coin toss, Chigurh nevertheless engages in an incisive dialogue with his victim. While holding Wells at gunpoint, Chigurh asks, "If the rule you followed led you to this of what use was the rule?" When Wells replies, "I don't know what you're talking about," Chigurh elaborates: "I'm talking about your life. In which now everything can be seen at once." Knowing that the moment of death has arrived, Chigurh wants Wells to examine the path that led him here, claiming that the present situation "calls past events into question" (175). Even though Chigurh admits that he and Wells are in the "same line of work," he finds it necessary to distance himself from the other hit-man: "You think I'm like you. That it's just greed. But I'm not like you. I live a simple life" (177). This distinction between the two hired assassins suggests that Chigurh transcends mere criminality. The "simple life" he leads imbues him with the ascetic austerity of a monk pledged to evil, a satanic reversal of traditional, spiritual roles hinted at by other descriptions of Chigurh as a "faith healer" and a "prophet of destruction" (7, 3). In his study of the portrayal of evil in literature and cinema, Paul Oppenheimer points out that evil often "begins in criminality" but then "surpasses criminality, and finally, by comparison with criminality, overwhelms and belittles it, causing it to seem oddly cumbersome and even childish" (21). Chigurh lives by a different "rule," not motivated by the usual spectrum of human desires and thus remaining largely inscrutable.

It is significant that Wells is given a premonition of his own death exactly three days before it takes place. While examining the damage caused by a shootout between Chigurh and Moss at the Eagle Pass motel, Wells notices "two bulletholes in the windowglass" of a "second floor level" apartment across the street. After knocking on the door and receiving no answer, Wells lets himself in and finds the corpse of an old woman: "She'd been shot through the forehead and had tilted forward leaving part of the back of her skull and a good bit of dried brainmatter stuck to the slat of the rocker behind her. . . . A second shot had marked a date on a calendar on the wall behind her that was three days hence" (147). The path of the stray bullet converges with the path of the unsuspecting woman, much as Chigurh's coin converges with the equally unsuspecting gas station owner earlier in the novel. The woman's death reminds Wells of the inexorable machinations of fate: "Not what you had in mind at all, was it darling?" he asks (148). Wells correctly interprets the mark on the calendar as a portent of the day of his own impending death.

During the final encounter, he tells Chigurh, "By the old woman's calendar I've got three more minutes. Well the hell with it. I think I saw all this coming a long time ago. Almost like a dream. Déja vu." Well's words reveal that he had a vision of his own death long before he saw the calendar. Nevertheless, the question posed by Chigurh, namely, "How did you let yourself get in this situation?" suggest that it was still within Wells's power to make different choices, live by a different "rule," and thereby change his fate. Chigurh encourages Wells to engage in a final moment of self-reflection: "I thought you might want to explain yourself. . . . Not to me. To yourself" (178). Chigurh's questions seem to be directing Wells toward something akin to the existentialist concept of authentic existence, which, though "not clearly defined by the existentialists . . . implies an attitude of sincerity and honesty and the absence of self-deception" (de Silva 1). Furthermore, it is a mode of existence based on "a realization that one is what one makes oneself by one's acts" (Manser 20). It is worth mentioning that Sheriff Bell strives for the same realization: "It's a life's work to see yourself for what you really are and even then you might be wrong. And that is somethin I dont want to be wrong about" (295). Despite the fact that Bell and Chigurh are diametrically opposed in a Manichean battle between good and evil, respectively, both men insist on the importance of authentic existence arrived at through knowledge of the self.

Existentialist themes are also apparent in Chigurh's attempts to make his victims come to terms with the inevitability of death. He accuses Wells of believing that he can keep death at bay: "You think that as long as you keep looking at me you can put it off." Wells denies thinking such a thing, but Chigurh insists, "Yes you do. You should admit your situation. There would be more dignity in it. I'm trying to help you" (176). Behind the "existential preoccupation with the theme of death" is the belief that "living authentically is living constantly in its presence, for then alone can we attain 'freedom in the face of death" (Dutt 80). When Wells accuses Chigurh of thinking that he is "outside of everything" and reminds him that he is "not outside of death," Chigurh replies, "It doesnt mean to me what it does to you" (177). The reply can be read in two ways, the surface reading being that Chigurh has adopted an existentialist approach to death. More subtly, however, the words hint at the idea that Chigurh is no ordinary mortal and may perhaps be Death itself, albeit a modern version that carries a pneumatic stun-bolt gun instead of the traditional scythe.

Wells grows weary of the conversation, announcing, "I'm not interested in your opinions. . . . Just do it. You goddamned psychopath. Do it and goddamn you to hell." Despite the verbal command, Wells's body language suggests that he is not quite ready: "He closed his eyes and he turned his head and he raised one hand to fend away what could not be fended away. Chigurh shot him in the face" (177). Although there is some discrepancy between Wells's words and his reaction to the shot, the fact that Wells commands it enables him to reclaim a certain degree of control over his fate, however insignificant it may appear. Furthermore, McCarthy makes a point of informing the reader that the "new day was still a minute away" (178), thereby emphasizing the fact that the old woman's calendar was not entirely accurate. The fact that, by asking Chigurh to shoot him a minute early, Wells refuses to die on the prophesied day suggests that even within a universe ruled by seemingly inexorable forces of fate, minute degrees of free will and personal agency remain.” - Petra Mundik, ‘A Bloody and Barbarous God: The Metaphysics of Cormac McCarthy’ (2016) [p. 268 - 270]

“The Coen brothers built a story of war between two teams: one team represent the human mind wish to understand the world and the second team represent the universe as a chaos. During the first half of the movie the war looks good for the human mind team but then the human mind team lose – a beatiful metaphor for absurdism.

(…)

Result of the war:

Anton kills Carson, Llewelyn is killed by Mexicans, and the sheriff is retired loosing hope in the world.

The Coen brothers message in this film is that they do not think humans mind will ever be able to understand the world and we are doom to internal ignorance. Depressing.”

[mediclzen]

From here || @voidclawing

Tired eye rises a bit at the other's squabbling and twisted tongue - ears flattened as if the skies themselves would fall down at the smallest sound or words coming from anywhere - such is the young man that also champinoed in the martial arts when the mask was on and confidence blazed aflame like a totally different person.

Nehan can only be curious about it, but only being the backup should said Erune push too far his moral body was able to resist – heavens knows how many times he's need to pinch the bridge of his nose and try not to grow anymore white hairs for all the lectures he's given the other by now ever since their... bond had become somewhat less complicated. '' Very well. '' His tone is soft, weighed by chronic exhaustion the older erune carried on his shoulders always but softened thanks to the children of stardust that come and go, stiff fingers with scars barely concealed if not to the gentle embrace of leathered gloves that cushion pale skin; sometimes bring him presents they shouldn't really both we with yet the doctor has found some warmth in his heart to learn to accept just like Mugen's more.... overblown gestures the massive draph often tried his best to prepare despise there being no need.

Even something as small as a flower, perhaps a medicinal one would suffice. Quills, mundane things. But his office had become an array of everything - colorful trinkets and souvenirs from all the skies; and in a tiny corner, especially by a neatly kept writing desk laid most of the things the Eternal- Seox would sometimes bring after the other sometimes perhaps burning brainmatter tried his best to think of presents.

heh.

'' So long you have your wounds tended to, then... I wont pry. '' Tries to reassure - dealing with the others anxiousness was one thing Nehan truly found an enigma, but rather a refresher to what years in the past gave away to the form of a shrouded monster of long claws and fangs. And that much is true but only on fights against the dangers of the skies now; right now Seox was.... something intriguing. But unlike how the other often emoted even against his own will and best attempt to be secretive and yet always failed; Nehan knew how to appear oblivious at best, his own downy small ears barely twitching as his tired gaze dropped back to his own papers. '' I do have something for you as well, but it will have to wait for christmas. Mugen adviced me to wait despise I see no real need to stall such things. You may stay here if you need as well. ''

... '' Just don't tell Mugen because he might want to also see, and lets be honest; like the captain's red dragon, Mugen's mouth tends to slip despise his best intentions. ''