d e v o n
almost home
RMH
#extradirty
Andulka
Cosimo Galluzzi
dirt enthusiast
Sade Olutola
Origami Around
No title available
Not today Justin
h
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Mike Driver
$LAYYYTER
KIROKAZE
occasionally subtle
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
@theartofmadeline
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seen from Germany
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seen from Russia
seen from Bangladesh
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@basicbint
I’ve lost almost 40 pounds since my senior year of high school. most of which was lost in the past four months through exercise.
I’m working towards a stronger body. a stronger mind.
I am constantly changing. growing.
I am loving who I am and its such a pleasant change of pace.
back in 2010, my mom had a tumor removed from her breast. i remember that day very clearly. i remember my brothers sitting in the waiting room while i went into the examination room with her before the surgery. i remember helping her change and watching as she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and held it in her hand until the doctor came. i asked her what it was, she told me “just some questions.” the doctor came in after a few minutes and she asked me to leave the room. afterward, i came back to sit with her until the surgery. we watched daytime television, i held her hand. before i left, she gave me the paper to put away. when i went back to the waiting room, i opened it. saw all the questions were about me. was this something that could happen to me? how likely? was i going to be okay?
it is 2016, and in a few days we’re going to find out whether or not my mom has breast cancer. and all i can think about is that piece of paper. because even when she’s sick, she’s thinking of her children.
my mom is the kind of person who will go above and beyond for strangers. who cries during any sad scene on tv. takes selfies with random dogs. hates holding onto poles in a subway car and will grab your arm instead. keeps cardamom in all of her coat pockets. candy in all of her bags. loves hugs. and dancing. will curse you out when you push her too hard while exercising. has the prettiest smile i’ve ever seen. speaks perfect english until she gets angry, which is when she turns to arabic. waits to have the door held open for her, only because i’ve gotten her used to it. plays soccer in the street with bottle caps. stays up with you if you’re sick. loves with all of her being.
my mom is the strongest person that i know and i am terrified.
i wanted to ask you guys for some good prayers/vibes/feels for her. she is my mom. my best friend. she is everything to me.
thanks
SING TO ME, BEAUTIFUL ANGEL OF MUSIC.
B told me about this Buzzfeed article that’s basically just a collection of videos of Oscar Isaac playing guitar/singing, all of which I’ve already seen individually, but having them together in one place is the most efficient way to quench my thirst.
stop this right now, I can't deal with my love him
Oscar Isaac photographed by Mark Seliger for Details Magazine’s April 2015 Issue
@seedo-amjad
Husband
with my very best friends
i am completely overwhelmed by what this year might bring,
(back to school, new home, breast cancer, death in the family, a breakdown, so much sadness)
and i’m just trying to keep my head above water
(i never did learn how to swim)
Happy (late) New Year from Senegal!
dreaming of being there one day!
(Gotta kidnap Khadim first and then we can travel around Senegal and have all kinds of fun)
lady oscar! my mommas fav show growing up in yemen in the early 80s
april
there’s nothing sadder then a thin boy, cigarette in hand grasping you with the other begging you to never change.
what a stunner
William Carlos Williams | From Kora in Hell: Improvisations
feelin all of this
my grandmother, gaddah ateeqah, looking stoic as hell back in the 70s and rocking that pink look.
(and yes, the flash on my grandfather’s face was intentional)
(peep the afro on my uncle in the photo!)
Mashrou Leila - Ibn El leil
icarus is slaying me left and right
american wet dream (this was meant to be a joke but I find my fake pose of longing to be oh so telling of my relationship with this country: awkward and forced)
Mood.
i tell myself the same thing i would tell a patient - make your vulnerability a place of strength not shame. on my 10th birthday i heard someone proselytize that my mother should have considered aborting me. i was unsure of what abortion meant and in lieu of google, i asked a cousin who explained it in rather rigorous detail. part of me was angry with my mother for not doing so. for not ending me. my stepfather beat me to flattened tin since i was 8 and if my mother had aborted me, i would not have experienced any of it. at 31 the saddest thing i can think of is how a 10 year old can perceive her own death in such a vivid and happy way.
no end is enough. that is my repeated lesson. i have been angry frequently at the scheme of whatever universes that strum my fate. silently angry. an interior hell, held in interim. anger beyond pain is invertebrate and quite like an amoeba, it keeps splitting into multiples to perpetuate itself. the interstice of time we inhabit somehow fosters a social climate that encourages reaction instead of response. i opt out of being an automaton. i opted out of being helpless when my stepfather was breaking my bones.
once i had a festering wound on my calf (which can now be attributed to being diabetic) that went untreated for a long time because my mother was unwell and my stepfather would not take me to a doctor. after a tremendous effort at gathering courage, i asked him to give me money so i could take myself to the doctor. i was 11. in impotent anger, he pressed his thumb into the wound as hard as he could and as a neuroscience student now i know the brain has its own voodoo to shut down the pain when it climbs an unspeakable zenith. when i look back, it is not the physical torture but the the fact that anyone could submit a child to such depths of psychic injury is something i still am unequipped to fathom.
the sounds i can’t stand are children and animal crying. i love both. i love animals like they are children. i love children. i don’t know if i will have any of my own. probably not. that said, i feel most alive in the company of kids. there is something incredibly fearless and kind in almost every child. for some inexplicable reason, children like me too. a common sight at any airport is a toddler thumb wrestling with me, nibbling my nose or trying to make a meal of my hair. every time i look at a happy child, i remember what i could not be or have and then i see their face to confirm that happiness is always a plural image. i am happy in believing this. i am happy about the collective inevitability of all our childhoods eventually winning the battle of survival.
i didn’t expect to survive this long and this is more contemplation than declaration. i want to state this without the glibness of self-mythologizing. i descend into lower atria of serrated, circumstantial defeats frequently. part of it is chemistry, the remaining is history. this, however, is not my defining moment. this will never be my defining moment. depression leaves such devastating earthquakes collapsing the manger of my ribs. depression also forces me into a clear, fragrant patience. for myself, for others like me. honestly, there is no map for resurrection. you have the gprs but no network coverage because you are in a dense expanse. you have to steer yourself out of that murky breadth and restart the device.
you have to practice compassion. you have to articulate it daily. you have to make your own altars, summon your own invocations. the years are strung to each other like a glass rosary. all this faith is transparent accepting of light.
i have forgiven the past. i have fed the future. i am unfolding into the present.
this week is my father’s death anniversary. there is no algorithm to process grief. it is viral sometimes. a dormant, invisible thing that can be hauled in the pith of our hearts for days, decades. the moment our immunity lowers its defense, it abandons its inertia and pollutes us with its action. while studying for my master’s in psychology, i spent so much time debating the usefulness of gestalt. the one thing i am at peace with is that death does not destroy love. in my case, i miss something i never had. a father. ironically, the book is called “father, husband”. guilt is the most stubborn of ghosts.
when my mother had a cancer threat, i realised that there was a possibility of both my parents being dead before i turned 30. you never really consider the mortality of those who gave birth to you. they always seem so invincible, so timeless.
sometimes i feel so utterly insufficient as a person. as a woman. as anything that is something in this rapidly changing disguise of life.
today, i love a boy. there is something beautiful about his existence. he makes me happy. i hope i make him happy too. that is all i understand of love.
i want to say one kind thing to myself before i go to bed every night.
