todays bird

pixel skylines
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
noise dept.

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Discoholic 🪩
Keni
we're not kids anymore.

Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosmic Funnies
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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JBB: An Artblog!


blake kathryn
seen from Germany

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@traaashhhhkat

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I could make it all disappear You could feed me all of your fears We could end all this pain right here We could rewind all of those tears
Jackpot
This is getting kind of ridiculous.
There are two five leaves in there somewhere
I lost count
This is the lucky clover bouquet. Reblog for seven days of good luck!
On sunny days I go out walking I end up on a tree-lined street I look up at the gaps of sunlight I miss you more than anything
got my hair done & am a touch obsessed with it

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Four decades of feminism later I am reading the comedian Angela Barnes’ blog. “I am ugly, and I am proud,” she writes. She goes on to say: “The fact is I don’t see people in magazines who look like me. I don’t see people like me playing the romantic lead or having a romantic life.” At the top of the blog is a picture of Barnes. And the thing is, she isn’t ugly. Neither is she beautiful. She’s normal looking. She’s somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, just like lots of women you see every day in real life. It made me think of this year’s Wimbledon ladies’ final between Sabine Lisicki and Marion Bartoli. When Bartoli won, the BBC commentator John Inverdale infamously said, “Do you think Bartoli’s dad told her when she was little, ‘You’re never going to be a looker, you’re never going to be a Sharapova, so you have to be scrappy and fight’?” The first thing I thought was: this woman has just won a tennis tournament! And she’s being judged on her looks! And then I thought: but Bartoli is attractive. Sure, she’s not at the very highest point on the scale – she doesn’t look like a top model. But she’s pretty. And, in any case, why should it matter? She’s a top athlete. Surely that’s what counts. A sports commentator refers to a pretty woman as “not a looker”. A normal-looking woman thinks she’s ugly. Why? Because, even though the world is full of normal and pretty women, the world we see – the world of television, films, magazines and websites – is full of women who are top-of-the-scale beauties. And right now, in the second decade of the 21st century, the situation is more extreme than ever. If you’re a woman, a huge proportion of your role models are beautiful. So if you’re normal looking, you feel ugly. And if you’re merely pretty, men feel free to comment on how un-beautiful you are. As a normal-looking man, I find myself in a completely different position. Being normal makes me feel, well, normal. Absolutely fine. As if the way I look is not an issue. That’s because it’s not an issue. As a normal-looking man, I’m in good company. Sure, some male actors and celebrities are very good looking. Brad Pitt. George Clooney. Russell Brand. But many of Hollywood’s leading men, like me, look like the sort of blokes you see every day, in real life. Russell Crowe, Kevin Spacey, Bruce Willis, Jack Black, Seth Rogen, Martin Freeman, Tom Hanks, Steve Carell, Jim Carrey, Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, Brendan Fraser… In fact, you might almost say that most leading men are normal-looking blokes. It’s true of television, too. Bryan Cranston, who plays the lead in Breaking Bad – he’s a normal. James Gandolfini – he was a normal. And chubby too. Kevin Whately – normal. Ben Miller – normal. TV cops all look normal. Ray Winstone looks normal. Tim Roth looks normal. They portray people who are interesting for what they do, not what they look like. Oh, and think of sitcoms. The Big Bang Theory features four normal-looking blokes and a stunningly beautiful woman. New Girl is about two normal blokes, a guy who’s quite good looking, and two women who are… yes, strikingly beautiful. When I watch the news, on whatever channel, it’s presented by the classic partnership of an ordinary-looking guy and a gorgeous woman. After the news, I watch the weather. Male weather presenters look like standard males. Female weather presenters look like models. Footballers look normal. Footballers’ wives and girlfriends look stunning. Daytime television presenters: men look like Phillip Schofield; women look like Holly Willoughby. A typical Saturday-night judges’ panel consists of two types of people – middle-aged blokes and young, stunning women. Sometimes a normal-looking or ageing woman slips through the net – but then, like Arlene Phillips, her days are soon numbered. Countdown had an attractive woman and an ageing bloke; when the attractive woman began to show signs of ageing, she was axed – replaced by a woman who was, of course, strikingly beautiful. Who presents historical documentaries? Guys like David Starkey. Normals. And what happened when a normal-looking woman, Mary Beard, presented a series about the ancient world? She was mocked for not being attractive enough. In a recent interview Dustin Hoffman, another normal, made a revealing comment. Remember when he dressed up as a woman in Tootsie? “I went home and started crying,” he said. Why? “Because I think I am an interesting woman when I look at myself on screen. And I know that if I met myself at a party, I would never talk to that character. Because she doesn’t fulfil physically the demands that we’re brought up to think women have to have in order to ask them out… I have been brainwashed.”
The ugly, unfair truth about looking beautiful (via fucknosexistcostumes)
This is why I get infuriated whenever men talk about how they’re held to unrealistic beauty standards too, because it really doesn’t even compare. Men who aren’t attractive simply aren’t attractive and maybe that’s rough for them, but women who aren’t attractive are barely even people.
(via escapingtoxicjustice)
she trained in abject poverty
This is Sarah Robles. She won a Bronze medal in Rio yesterday, first US weightlifting medal in 16 years.
“I still have bad thoughts about myself, but I’ve learned that you have to love yourself the way you are,” Robles says. “I may look like this, but I’m in the Olympics because of the way I am.”
i needed this article today. thank you.
i cant believe that guy from that disney musical met 5x olympic medalist simone biles he must be so blessed
From discord, from hatred (I despise dabblers in imagery – I resent the power of Percival intensely) my shattered mind is pieced together by some sudden perception. I take the trees, the clouds, to be witnesses of my complete integration. I, Louis, I, who shall walk the earth these seventy years, am born entire, out of hatred, out of discord.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves
(via talesofpassingtime)

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Jack White
“I want to start a new band,” said Jack White.
“Jack,” said his manager. “Not another one.”
Jack picked up an acoustic guitar and started strumming lightly. “Yeah, another one.”
Jack’s manager picked up an acoustic pile of spreadsheets. “Jack, I wish you’d just focus on one band. You’ve been in, let me see here, 384,230,293,823,090,000,232,123,889,923,842,119,188,383,334,127,465,245,246,798,297,442 bands.”
Jack placed his acoustic guitar down on his acoustic floor. “Wow, really? That’s a lot.”
Jack’s manager used his acoustic voice. “I made up that number, but the fact you didn’t think it sounded absolutely ridiculous proves my point: You’re in too many bands.”
Jack played the word “A C O U S T I C” in the Scrabble game that the conversation had interrupted. “Fine. Just one more and that’s it.”
Jack’s manager used the “C” from Jack’s “A C O U S T I C” to play the word “A C O U S T I C.” If the Scrabble board were a music genre, it would’ve been folk, but the Scrabble board wasn’t a music genre. Scrabble would never allow that.
“Alright,” said Jack’s manager. “What’s the new band’s name?”
Jack paused for a moment before grinning like a child with a handful of candy, candy it had won at a grinning competition.
“Yes?” asked Jack’s manager, after waiting, like, forever.
“Huh?” said Jack. “Sorry, I was thinking of a goofy hat I wanted to buy.”
“The whole time?”
“The whole time. Wait, wait year is it?”
“2016.”
“Yeah, the whole time.”
*someone asks me to do something in my job, where i am paid to do things*
it is Wednesday my dudes 2016
Master post of my hp comics
HHHURRRR POTTORR
the more things change the more they stay the same
Pretty sure I’ve said “come out you bitch I’ll maul you” word for word

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also re: teens sitting around with their tablets and smartphones
like, if a kid can access the internet (with some privacy still) while also sitting in the same room as their parents, honestly that’s better and more social than what I did as a teenager, which was hole up in my room at my desktop computer that I couldn’t move anywhere else in the house
mostly what I see from the teens in my family is they will sit and scroll through their phone, but if something interesting starts happening, or a new person enters the room, or they see something cool they want to share, they look up and interact again, because they’re sitting right there with everyone else.
that is waaaay more social than 2002 me, hunched over my desktop for hours and only seeing my mom in passing when I went to microwave a burrito at 1am. way, way more social.
My whole family does this now. We’re all in the same room, but each on a phone, tablet, or laptop. Certain poop heads will shake their heads at how technology is dividing us.
But
Like
What do they think families have done for since ever? Talk constantly while playing educational board games every evening? No.
They’d each be reading, or sewing, or writing letters or some shit, and mostly sat quietly near each other but not bothering each other.
yes this
It reminds me of the whole “omg people on trains used to TALK to each other” argument. No, they didn’t. They read the newspaper or stared straight ahead avoiding eye contact.
People have been finding reasons not to talk to each other for centuries.
never underestimate my ability to stare out a window and not speak for hours on a car ride