deverse:

my mom meant to post a picture of her dog and posted a picture of a turkey insteadimage

ppalebluedot:

homoseksual:

this video is my religion, my bible, my everything. i feel this in my bones 

i fucking love this woman so much

artichokehold:

those jerks at culinary school always called me a weanie but look at me now

artichokehold:

those jerks at culinary school always called me a weanie but look at me now

(Source: cute-overload)

ink-n-severedties:

toteardown:

cratenculture:

One of the TRUEST things I’ve ever came across.

Always reblog.

Wow

(Source: god-body)

sleepysleepypretty:

having body hair annoys me but removing body hair also annoys me and also life, life annoys me

(Source: we-unhallowed)

Woolf often conceives of life this way: as a gift that you’ve been given, which you must hold onto and treasure but never open. Opening it would dispel the atmosphere, ruin the radiance—and the radiance of life is what makes it worth living. It’s hard to say just what holding onto life without looking at it might mean; that’s one of the puzzles of her books. But it has something to do with preserving life’s mystery; with leaving certain things undescribed, unspecified, and unknown; with savoring certain emotions, such as curiosity, surprise, desire, and anticipation. It depends on an intensified sense of life’s preciousness and fragility, and on a Heisenberg-like notion that, when it comes to our most abstract and spiritual intuitions, looking too closely changes what we feel. It has to do, in other words, with a kind of inner privacy, by means of which you shield yourself not just from others’ prying eyes, but from your own. Call it an artist’s sense of privacy.

Joshua Rothman's New Yorker essay on Virginia Woolf’s idea of privacy is the best thing I’ve read in ages. 

It rings especially poignant in the context of her own conflicted inner life, from her exuberant appreciation of the world’s beauty to her intense capacity for love to the deathly despair of her suicide letter.

Do yourself a favor and read Rothman’s full essay here.

(via explore-blog)

nymphdomi:

andy065:

Fuck your house.

OMG I’m dying

(Source: poyzn)

(Source: sizvideos)

inkboss:

Hand holding otters


My friend Gavin is so talented. inkboss :)

inkboss:

Hand holding otters

My friend Gavin is so talented. inkboss :)

twinpoetry:

Taryn can be defined as the sort of person who turns to you at midnight and whispers “Brianne…ice cream social party. Let’s make it happen.” Then talks about how she likes the words “ice cream social” because “it has ice cream” and “using ‘social’ to describe a party is supah fanc’.”

glrlband:

guys be like “makeup is why you take a bitch swimming on the first date!!!” but sweetie I got that urban decay setting spray ayeeee

tealtights:

Yellow pin-up ootd featuring victory rolls and a floral bandana 😊🌻🌹🌷

~Taryn~

Happy Fourth of July!!! 🍓🍰🎆🌌❤󾓦🎇

The freight woke up the other guys and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell them about the deer. But I didn’t. That was the one thing I kept to myself. I’ve never spoken or written about it until just now Stand by Me (1986)

(Source: dixonchesters)