I wonder how many knitters have found themselves wondering if their Rockefeller shawl can just be done at this point. Time to stop procrastinating on Ravelry by planning my next project and pick up a bajillion more stitches.

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@juiceboxmermaid
I wonder how many knitters have found themselves wondering if their Rockefeller shawl can just be done at this point. Time to stop procrastinating on Ravelry by planning my next project and pick up a bajillion more stitches.
Flower Photography by Emily Blincoe
Photographer Emily Blincoe has often been featured in Things Organized NeatlyĀ for her uncanny and colorfully choreographed intimate objects. Her photography plays with shapes, colors and light in a colorful and their synchronic harmony. Her flower arrangements play with color, texture and size.
They create a beautiful and feminine composition, which is irresistible to the eye. You can find Blincoeās photography in her Etsy shop and website. If this doesnāt satisfy your floral craze, we urge you to search through more flower photography here.
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ok so. thereās an office administrator at my work and she has this cute little 2 year old named William. he calls me āNick so tallā. like thatās my name to him, but he says it like itās one word. āNicksotallā. and i love it so Iāve taken to calling him Will So Lilā and we get along like a housefire. i havenāt seen him in like two weeks, but his mom comes in to work today and tells me that recently heās been telling his own bedtime stories, and he starts them all with once upon a time and everything. cute right? well to me it gets cuter, because he has been telling stories about Batman, Spider-man, and Nicksotall. and we have these adventures and climb buildings and fight crime together and i have to be honest, it warmed my heart so fucking much itās ridiculous
tl;dr Iām a superhero to an adorable 2 year old
yessssssss
This is so pure
i had a visitor at work today. Ā willsoliāl was aĀ āstruction worker
i witness pictures of aĀ ārelaxingā woman and i think: it is funny how they see us. in the movies under the shower, the actress stands with shaved legs, leaning into the water, opening her mouth with a sensuous sigh. our sleepovers are supposed to come with bras and tight panties, laughing our painted lips over pizza you donāt see us eat. we take walks in the park in good heels, look excellent after running, always have a gentle smile on our pristine faces.
an artist draws a piece about how women alone donāt have to be sad that theyāre alone, they should relish in it, which i thank him for giving me permission to do. the result of his work is half-nude ladies draped like linens over their couches, flashes of thigh gaps and open lips, breasts swelling pleasantly, a yawn and and stretch that shows off her hipbones.Ā
the only evidence i have that iām normal is considered comedy. our reality is comedy. lying in bed under three covers, bra off but sweater on, laptop positioned directly under lack of a chin: that gets a laugh. in the movies, the quirky girl in a cute-ugly but somehow flattering pajama set gets caught at the supermarket and itās a nice romantic scene where we find out how awkwardĀ it is for her to exist without makeup, without her best effort to please sexually. she sees her boss or her cute friend or whatever else makes us laugh and cringe and the next time we put onĀ āreal clothesā before we go out shopping.
the real world exists somewhere outside the picture of women. we come home and strip off our bras, but instead of that being a still image of a delicate female stepping away nude, itās a moment of our peacefulness. the narrative so often stops here, us heading our improbably slim legs to the bedroom. but instead our breasts donāt always hang evenly, instead some of us do not have breasts, instead we swipe a hand over our tired faces and smear our makeup but are too lazy to take it off. our bodies crack and crunch and do not stretch like a cat but instead in weird directions, we rush out our breath and slouch and barely keep our eyes open. we lie with our thighs touching and our stomachs hanging because itās comfortable. we sling ourselves undainty over whatever will support our weight. our showers consist equally of staring into the void as of unflattering angles while we wash; our bodies never come pre-shaved and for some reason our underarm hair is really persistent or our leg hair is dark and shows even after shaving or maybe both. our sleepovers mostly feature netflix and wine, getting food on our faces, eating until our stomachs make round pleased hills, talking trash and swearing up storms more than we paint our nails. we donāt go to the store in cute-ugly clothes, we go because we forgot to buy tampons or we dropped all our rice on the ground or because weāre humanĀ and we need supplies to survive.Ā
there is a very strange body-positive rule where somehow, we always end up under the sloganĀ ābeautiful.ā our loneliness, our adulthood, our moments where were are not even being judged - i should remind you that those are beautiful too. but the truth is that you donāt needĀ to be beautiful. and these moments in particular, that belong to you: theyāre yours, they donāt need to be told that they exist in some plane of desirability. who cares if theyāre ugly, if theyāre truly self-serving and unflattering and indelicate. when you are home, you are finally human, returned to skin that itches in awkward places and ugly habits and itās okay. they wonāt show you a version of that without laughing about it, but we are real, we donāt keep ourselves perfect in even our peaceful moments. itās okay. i know you might be worried what happens if you get a partner or roommate and they learn you live this way, that youāre messy and forget to brush your teeth sometimes and get food all over the place when you eat and iām telling you: youāre not unusual. youāre just human, and these moments arenāt somehow shameful. theyāre not untouchable and unspeakable because theyāre not pretty. because instead theyāre human.
we arenāt here to be watched, and we donāt need your approval. we werenāt created to always please. sometimes we get to take a break from beautiful.
Most millennials I know struggle with mental illness to some degree. Anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder, and more. I wonder how much of that anxiety comes from being told that wanting a living wage, affordable college, or adequate healthcare means that youāre being a spoiled entitled brat. It really doesnāt. The generations before us HAD a living wage, affordable college, and adequate healthcare. But now, inflation has far surpassed the minimum wage, college tuition and loan interest rates are through the proverbial roof, and medical bills are the top cause of bankruptcy in America. These things were not caused by millennials, but after being raised on a steady diet of āyouāre entitled,ā we donāt even need to hear it from other people. We believe it about ourselves. As a society, we now romanticize struggle, busy-ness, and āthe hustle.ā If youāre not losing sleep and working two or three jobs, you must not want it enough. What if weāre actually not crazy? What if wanting to work one full-time job and have the ends not only meet but actually overlap a little is NOT an entitled pipe dream?
The Gaslighting of the Millennial Generation ā Born Again Minimalist
(via
sordidcrayons
)
Try it. Imagine having one straightforward job - hard work, but work you can handle - that you know will be there tomorrow, and will be there with raises in ten years. It pays for your nice little home, you have no debt because your education was affordable, and groceries, medical/dental care, utilities, and a bit of entertainment all fall inside your budget - with enough left over to put away in a retirement plan. You are safe, you are solid, and life is sensible. When I imagine that, I first get heart-sick at how impossibly beautiful it sounds, and then I feel how the fear and stress and self-destructive-coping-mechanisms would just float the fuck away.
(via classicalmonoblogue)
āIn that way, youāve acknowledged that youāre unsure, that you donāt know what to do or say. Youāve acknowledged that you see them. They feel seen. They feel heard and acknowledged, which is huge for someone whoās in crisis.ā Wentworth Miller | Q&A at Oxford Union | 2016 | x
What an interesting pattern.
My French teacher admitted that the French language is more about aesthetics than actual logical rules.
The sooner you accept this the better.
Isnāt that true of all things French?
Yes. Yes it is.Ā
I cannot even deny itā¦
āFor the aesthetics,ā the French sob softly, shoving three Es into the word crƩƩes. It is not beautiful enough. They are never beautiful enough. Slowly France is losing its will to live.
Mary Poppins (dir, Robert Stevenson, 1964)
I definitely didnāt get how awesome Mrs. Banks was when I was a kid.
In the early 1900s, people loved collecting their familyās and friendsā signatures in autograph books. This evolved into collecting ghost signatures, which were made by signing a piece of paper with slow-drying ink and then quickly folding the sheet over to create a personalized inkblot. Source
Why these all look like ultra beasts
I really want to do this!
#honestly i dont care if its fake
Itās not. It happens every day all around the world.
So so so real. I've been on a few of these myself. Ugh.
zero light plants
THIS IS SUCH A SPECIFIC AND SUPER NECESSARY POST.
::makes note for later::
True dat
The Icelandic bind-offĀ - āAĀ medium-speed, stretchy bind-off thatās good for intermediate knittersā
⦠What is this.
Saving this for later⦠OMG
Whaaaaa??? This is amazing
My Friend Ashburn
I have found a piece with a prominent orange portion that I would wear happily!
āaestheticā is a very good word, important word. āi love the fifties.ā no you donāt the fifties kinda TOTALLY SUCKED for many human beings in America. āi love fifties aestheticā well then, awesome. go you with your bright blocks of color and cute skirts and mini jackets and hair poufs.Ā
Yes!
AWWWWW! @courtneydanielle92
š I love this!!! ššš
Iāll be the fainting damsel in distress in this story if it means I get a couple sweaters worth of yarn out of the whole thing...