Perk-Me-Ups

April 15, 2014 | 07:35 AM | 564 notes
mpdrolet:

Mai Chaya
April 15, 2014 | 07:34 AM | 41,791 notes
mlktoscl:

 
April 15, 2014 | 07:34 AM | 1,724 notes
9gag:

Found at the library

9gag:

Found at the library

April 15, 2014 | 07:31 AM | 133,813 notes

(Source: logotv, via 13designershoes)

April 15, 2014 | 07:29 AM | 145,350 notes

petitsirena:

WHITE FEMINISM

(via 13designershoes)

April 15, 2014 | 07:28 AM | 212,789 notes
dancing-to-your-heartbeat:

Showing up at your best friends house uninvited.

dancing-to-your-heartbeat:

Showing up at your best friends house uninvited.

(via 13designershoes)

February 04, 2014 | 11:45 AM | 1 note

Policing honesty

The question is how to be happy for you. I dream in colour, always and in language and emotion. You hear in colour. I see in emotion. The grey- it’s what I have been trained to do. I didn’t teach myself so much as I was always this way. Every other self-made artist wants to claim the sensitive childhood. I? I was happy. My childhood was a bubble of happiness. I perceived embarrassment at attention. Yet I wanted it. I loved people smiling at me.
And then came black clouds and the bubble burst and I was swimming, yes I was, but not negative splitting but letting myself cry; after all, I was in an ocean I was in so what difference did it make?

I found solace in books and music. And lengthy journaling- yes, my literary career was kickstarted by the Diary not of a wimpy kid, but of an overweight, overemotional preteen. Yes. By then I was sensitive all right. Before I was sensitive to love. And loss. Now it was everything else.

So you stand so strong and so tall, so self-aware. You have organized your thoughts and your truths and deliver genuinity so effortlessly. So beautifully.

And once again, I have no right to feel proud. I have done nothing, made no impact or helped in any way but to add to the pleasant people you’ve met. We have not talked deep, or maybe we have but I’ve forgotten. Brief it would have been. Was there ever time?

So this is the answer: admit the bitterness, the jealousy and the fact that I loved what was not mine to love. It was harmful to nobody but myself and was it really harm? I have nothing of yours except those handful of moments, sweet though they were. And the delight of knowing I saw you before anyone else but whom you already had (and whom really count).

So I am sorry I’ve been so bitter and jealous; both have been in my nature without ill-intention- maybe one day you’ll be in the movies and I’ll tell my grandkids- I know that person. I used to be in love with him. I don’t know how to capture all that I felt, maybe even still feel- but it won’t matter and it doesn’t.

That’s only something I can understand. The more I try to explain it, the stupider and sillier I sound because you were never mine or available to be mine, from the get go.

But I am sorry. My instincts tell me both of you probably know. Or wonder. I’m not stupid, I’m so subtly obvious. So the silence and non-replies are called for.
But I will always remember that moment and the ones before and after as aplenty of heightened emotion and spiritual connection. Okay?

October 10, 2013 | 06:05 PM | 16 notes
thingssheloves:

DSC_0312 by ϟroorz on Flickr.
August 08, 2013 | 11:01 PM | 318 notes
August 07, 2013 | 10:51 AM | 120 notes

moon83:

Stars & Aurora by Jan Erik Waider

(via rahrahmonster)

August 07, 2013 | 10:50 AM | 975 notes
explodingdog:

Robot and Dog

explodingdog:

Robot and Dog

July 30, 2013 | 09:51 PM | 537,293 notes

Two churches located across the street from each other. At least the Catholics have a sense of humor.

elizards:

paranoidrobot:

imageimageimageimageimageimageimageimageimage

(via trilliansthoughts)

June 23, 2013 | 09:05 AM | 25 notes

verkur:

“It is no eden. But better than an eden, it is a home. And if there is anything I can poeticize it would be how firmly and naturally his feet gripped the loose soil as he walked barefoot across the tall grass. How his hands lightly pushed aside the leaves that obediently nodded their heads away to let us pass. It makes you frightened to think of this old man - so dignified in his natural environment - cooped up in the HDB unit he calls a “cage.” 

In the simple act of walking he was showing us what he would one day lose. This silent relationship that he shared with his surroundings showed how he had shaped his life around every bend and curve. 

I began to understand what losing a home might truly mean.”

I wrote a piece about an inhabitant of Pulau Ubin & talked a little about what I thought home might mean. I also took the pictures. Read the rest here. :)

June 23, 2013 | 09:04 AM | 349 notes

(Source: anditslove)

June 23, 2013 | 08:59 AM | 57,409 notes
wolverxne:

Water drops / Jaime Olivares 
1 of 404 Old »