Koi No Yokan

fastcompany: Floating Sheep’s map charting hate tweets,...

Mon, 13 May 2013 12:39:54 -0700

Floating Sheep’s map charting hate tweets, which allows you to search on several flavors of hate, is a creative use of data and mapping to raise awareness.

<3

Fri, 03 May 2013 12:39:27 -0700

When I celebrate a birthday

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 09:40:56 -0700

whatshouldbetchescallme:

I will try my level best, but no promises guys

npr: nationalpostsports: HOPE YOU HAD LUNCH ALREADY: Subway...

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 17:50:19 -0700

npr:

nationalpostsports:

HOPE YOU HAD LUNCH ALREADY: Subway made a statue out of sandwich materials of Georgia linebacker (and potential top NFL draft pick) Jarvis Jones. It is mildly terrifying. Maybe because we aren’t raisin people — his dreadlocks are made of 1,000 of them. (Photos: Diane Bondareff/Invision for SUBWAY/AP Images; Bebeto Matthews/The Associated Press)

This is slightly scary. — tanya b.

Oh my god. There’s no way to tell this story without sounding like some groupie but: this guy went to pre-sanction USC and stupid freshman me exchanged numbers with him way back in 2009…the consequences were hilarious.

"We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable,..."

Sun, 21 Apr 2013 22:38:53 -0700

“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.”

- E.E. Cummings (via indicio)

lol too true

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 16:33:21 -0700

lol too true

Public Shaming: Two explosives went off at the Boston Marathon on Monday, April 15,...

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 11:11:02 -0700

Public Shaming: Two explosives went off at the Boston Marathon on Monday, April 15,...:

publicshaming:

Two explosives went off at the Boston Marathon on Monday, April 15, 2013. There are reported casualties and many more reported injured. Information is still coming in and no one is sure who is behind the attacks. Domestic terrorists? Foreign terrorists? A lone, disturbed individual? WE JUST DON’T…

Photo

Fri, 05 Apr 2013 00:48:43 -0700

Amritsar, Punjab.

Sat, 30 Mar 2013 16:37:00 -0700

Amritsar, Punjab.

Photo

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 10:00:32 -0700

Pretty

Wed, 27 Mar 2013 22:46:48 -0700

Pretty by Katie Makkai

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich?” Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.

“Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty?” But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dryad: teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting. My poor mother.

“How could this happen? You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist. You sucked your thumb. That’s why your teeth look like that! You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were 6. Otherwise your nose would have been just fine!

“Don’t worry. We’ll get it fixed!” She would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way and that, as if it were a cabbage she might buy.

But this is not about her. Not her fault. She, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade. By 16, I was pickled with ointments, medications, peroxides. Teeth corralled into steel prongs. Laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand new nose the surgeon had carved.

Belly gorged on 2 pints of my blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you!”

All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on, like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood. “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.”

And now, I have not seen my own face for 10 years. I have not seen my own face in 10 years, but this is not about me.

This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those 2 pretty syllables.

About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crest-fallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.

This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.

“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.”

fleur-couture: ♡♡♡♡♡

Wed, 27 Mar 2013 10:00:17 -0700

fleur-couture:

♡♡♡♡♡

fleur-couture: ♡♡♡♡♡

Tue, 26 Mar 2013 10:00:23 -0700

fleur-couture:

♡♡♡♡♡

Photo

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 08:00:21 -0700

Beauty in biology is so easy to find

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 10:00:23 -0700

Beauty in biology is so easy to find

fleur-couture: ♡♡♡♡♡

Tue, 19 Mar 2013 10:00:42 -0700

fleur-couture:

♡♡♡♡♡

Fresh organic blueberry scones I baked this morning

Mon, 18 Mar 2013 15:05:00 -0700

Fresh organic blueberry scones I baked this morning

Absofuckinglutely

Sun, 17 Mar 2013 23:14:14 -0700

Absofuckinglutely

Photo

Sat, 16 Mar 2013 10:00:33 -0700

vintageanchor: “The cure for anything is salt water – tears,...

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 15:45:33 -0700

vintageanchor:

“The cure for anything is salt water – tears, sweat, or the sea.”

- Isak Dinesen, Seven Gothic Tales

I’ll only be happy in life near the beach.