engage earnestly with the world or die
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
taylor price
YOU ARE THE REASON
Not today Justin
EXPECTATIONS
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

#extradirty

shark vs the universe
NASA

roma★

Game Changer & Make Some Noise
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sheepfilms
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Cosimo Galluzzi
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art blog(derogatory)
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@hiraethinhaven
engage earnestly with the world or die

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Zoya Lerman - Eastern Motif (1957)
no one is coming to save you its true its true someone might be coming to hang outttttttttt though. someday
In Orwell’s essay “A Hanging,” the writer watches the condemned man, walking toward the gallows, swerve to avoid a puddle. For Orwell, this represents precisely what he calls the “mystery” of the life that is about to be taken: when there is no good reason for it, the condemned man is still thinking about keeping his shoes clean. It is an “irrelevant” act (and a marvelous bit of noticing on Orwell’s part). Now suppose this were not an essay but a piece of fiction. And indeed there has been a fair amount of speculation about the proportion of fact to fiction in such essays of Orwell’s.
The avoidance of the puddle would be precisely the kind of superb detail that, say, Tolstoy might flourish; War and Peace has an execution scene very close in spirit to Orwell’s essay, and it may well be that Orwell basically cribbed the detail from Tolstoy. In War and Peace, Pierre witnesses a man being executed by the French, and notices that, just before death, the man adjusts the blindfold at the back of his head, because it is uncomfortably tight. The avoidance of the puddle, the fiddling with the blindfold—these are what might be called irrelevant or superfluous details. They are not explicable; in fiction, they exist to denote precisely the inexplicable. This is one of the “effects” of realism, of “realistic” style.
But Orwell’s essay, assuming it records an actual occurrence, shows us that such fictional effects are not merely conventionally irrelevant, or formally arbitrary, but have something to tell us about the irrelevance of reality itself (…) There was no logical reason for the condemned man to avoid the puddle. It was pure remembered habit. Life, then, will always contain an inevitable surplus, a margin of the gratuitous, a realm in which there is always more than we need: more things, more impressions, more memories, more habits, more words, more happiness, more unhappiness.
— JAMES WOOD, from How Fiction Works.
What exactly do these irrational standards mean? They mean the supremacy of the detail over the general, of the part that is more alive than the whole, of the little thing which a man observes and greets with a friendly nod of the spirit while the crowd around him is being driven by some common impulse to some common goal. I take my hat off to the hero who dashes into a burning house and saves his neighbor’s child; but I shake his hand if he has risked squandering a precious five seconds to find and save, together with the child, its favorite toy. I remember a cartoon depicting a chimney sweep falling from the roof of a tall building and noticing on the way that a sign-board had one word spelled wrong, and wondering in his headlong flight why nobody had thought of correcting it. In a sense, we all are crashing to our death from the top story of our birth to the flat stones of the churchyard and wondering with an immortal Alice in Wonderland at the patterns of the passing wall. This capacity to wonder at trifles — no matter the imminent peril — these asides of the spirit, these footnotes in the volume of life are the highest forms of consciousness, and it is in this childishly speculative state of mind, so different from commonsense and its logic, that we know the world to be good.
— VLADIMIR NABOKOV, from Lectures on Literature.

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rummaging for an earl grey teabag like its a cigarette
I feel so bad for the annoying women at work. Like I actually feel sick when we’re interacting and I feel the annoyance occurring in my brain like she really doesn’t mean to be this way and she just doesn’t want to feel alone or rejected. you can tell she’s experienced being an outsider everywhere she goes it’s only a matter of time. And it’s not cool chic or edgy but in the ugliest most desperate and dehumanizing way. They always start hopeful. they want to connect and they go searching for someone receptive to her so she can find her people but everyone turns away from her slowly and u hear it in her voice. It’s happening again. she starts hesitating to speak and when she does you hear a shaky child ending every sentence like it’s a question. Testing the waters to know if she’s wrong for even trying. And then I realize I took her smile for granted now that it’s gone.. I have to make it up to her I can’t let something like this continue. Life is so hard for people everywhere, so building a tolerance for being irritated is nothing in comparison especially if the reward is less pain and loneliness in the world I will always be the bestie you have my word
Building a tolerance for annoyance is a beautiful intention, and you phrased it so well. This truly made me want to be kinder, thank you.
“besides, I have a sister.” top contender for one liner that makes me so emotional
i can’t explain why that last sentence always feels like a punch to the gut but if you get it, you get it
I like when you click a link and it turns purple its like youre bruising it
sometimes I look at my friends and I am just overwhelmed by the sheer luck of it. the universe is so violently massive and terrifyingly empty, but somehow, against all odds, my brand of weird gravity pulled in your brand of weird gravity. we are just ghosts haunting the same corner of the internet, sharing a brain cell, and keeping each other tethered to the earth.

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EVERYONE. GET MORE IN LOVE WITH YOUR FRIENDS NOW. FRIENDSHIP IS ALL WE HAVE ON THIS MISERABLE BALL OF DIRT FLOATING THROUGH SPACE. TELL YOUR FRIENDS YOU LOVE THEM!!!!!
Someday your hands will be old and wrinkled, the skin spotted and bunching over your knuckles. And a child will watch you make something. It's a simple task, you'll have done it a thousand times before. But to that child, the smooth, confident way your hands move will seem like impossible magic. You have to keep living.
prev these tags have me crying. this is absolutely what it's all about
Come with me we’re going laughing
you are alive on a planet with insects and whales and diatoms and mycelium networks and puppies and your human friends. literally so awesome to be a living thing
people will say “they’re only friends” and then show me two people who would crawl through broken glass to hear the other laugh once. two people who have memorized each other’s coffee orders, fears, childhood stories, and emergency contacts. two people who would haunt each other’s houses as ghosts. be serious.
Just an FYI—the original intention of this post was to challenge the way people say only friends, as though friendship is somehow lesser than other forms of love. As if being deeply known, cherished, and chosen by another person could ever be a small thing. Normalize profound platonic love. Some of the most fulfilling, transformative, and enduring relationships we will ever have are friendships. 🫶🏼

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t shirt that says I MISS EVERYONE I WAS EVER FLEETINGLY CLOSE TO SO MUCH THAT IT KILLS