Beneath It All You're Golden

Film, Music, Photography, Words, Adventure; Makes my world go round. hit counter

[frontmansdefender]

“How’s life?”

Me:

[bolt616]

This is really deep

[end0skeletal]

[redscharlach]

Owls who reckon you spilled their pint and now want to know what you think you’re looking at.

[redscharlach]

Reblogging this for Owl Awareness Day, in order to demonstrate what happens when the owls become aware of YOU…

[chloeguinan]

[brightwalldarkroom]

“A good movie makes you want to rewatch it for sheer entertainment. A great movie makes you want to revisit it because it recharges some basic part of you that may be running low.”

— Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

[leaversdance]

It’s funny how hope and fear work.

Somehow I’ve become everything I ever feared, rather than everything I ever hoped.

Such cruel irony.

[soporificsedatives-deactivated2]

Sue Zhao

[leaversdance]

Being diagnosed with ADHD has suddenly unlocked this crazy overwhelming feeling of guilt and regret and what if?

It’s guilt and regret for the way I’ve treated myself, still treat myself, the way I think of myself, and the way I’ve completely contained myself.

I’ve suddenly realised I’ve always been the over enthusiastic under achiever. And I could never figure out why. I’ve never quite gotten to where I wanted to go, no matter how much I threw myself at something. I’ve thrown myself time and time again at brick walls, just trying to get through, until I’ve burnt out completely, and then I’ve slunk away with my tail between my legs, telling myself it’s because I’m not good enough, I’m too lazy, I’m too dumb, that I don’t deserve it.

Bit by bit I’ve taken parts of myself and locked them up - enthusiasm, silliness, playfulness, seriousness, curiosity, wonder, interest - because the external world has somehow told me those parts of me are not acceptable. Now I hold my entire being under lock and key, afraid to let go of any control over myself. To the point where I’ve forgotten what joy is, what sadness is, what anger is, what eagerness is. I’m now a perfectly acceptable blank slate, that others can project their own perceptions on to.

I don’t even know where to start to attempt to undo this. I don’t even know who I am anymore. How do I begin to forgive myself without feeling like I’m making excuses for myself?

And now I’m at the point of wondering does this diagnosis signal the beginning of change, or just disappointment in that this is who I am now?

I feel like I’m in mourning for the person I could have been had I not had ADHD, or had I been diagnosed earlier. My whole life I feel like I’ve lived observing in my mind a more functioning productive outgoing version of myself living in an alternate universe. And I’ve always wished she existed. I always wished I could be her….

So there’s hope there somewhere I think. That I can unlearn these thought patterns. Hope that I can somehow learn to function better, and maybe that I can lose this mask….

[nevver]

Swells, Raf Maes

[goodwoodwould]

Good wood - Japanese kings of minimalism Muji have launched their new prefab offering ‘Yō no Ie’, or ‘Plain House’. The intention is that it’s very open to encourage indoor/outdoor living.

[redlipstickresurrected]

Monty Kaplan aka Javier Kaplan aka Javier Federico Kaplan (Argentinian, b. 1986, Buenos Aires, Argentina, based Miami, FL, USA, and NY, USA), Photography

[babyanimalgifs]

for anyone that’s having a bad day, here are pictures of animals sniffing flowers

[heroes-get-made-deactivated2022]

A few more:

[urhajos]

‘Bad Dream’ by Tobias Jonassen

[beepbeepbeepbeep-deactivated202]

[picsthatmakeyougohmm]

hmmm

[poems-of-madness]

“My love, forgive me for I haven’t wrote you any pretty poems lately, My mind is burning away, as my eyes are only on you, so many times I lost myself in you, I don’t have enough paper to write you, to write that I dream of you even when you are next to me, so little you know of romance. In our little living room nothing is designer but you see, my love, for me, are the kisses born on our couch that matter. And you talk on the phone, walking all around the apartment, all over through my heart, and I count every word and I memorize your voice into my soul. Because sometimes loneliness is laying alone in bed without you. Sometimes loneliness tickles my feet even in our marriage. And I remember how ordinary our life is, and how extraordinary is it to me. For there was a time when I thought love will betray me. But here we are in the most mundane story line; on a Monday afternoon peeling pomegranates and oranges and peeling each other’s hearts.”

— On My Heart by Royla Asghar 

[januaryhoney]

i had a dream about you, richard siken

[hirxeth]

i slip the book i’m reading under my pillow, so that i might not dream about you tonight, but now even heathcliff has your face