@mildredkrinkle - Tumblr Blog

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“My daughter was about to graduate high school when I lost my husband to a motorbike accident. She wanted to go to university but there was no one to support us. I’m an old-fashioned person. I’m not very smart. I only graduated from junior high school. But I wanted her to be better than me. I asked our relatives for help, but they all refused me. Out of desperation I approached my landlord. And she was the only one who supported us. She told me: ‘Get back on your feet so your daughter will have a chance.’ She loaned us half the tuition. The other half I earned by working morning to night. I was doing laundry. I was doing dishwashing. I was going around selling cookies and cakes. My daughter graduated recently and became a midwife. All my hard work paid off. We’ve been paying back the loan. And a few months ago she asked for my bank account number, and she’s been putting money in every week.” (Jakarta, Indonesia)

fadeau

jazminekhan-deactivated20241127

demonicplatonic-deactivated2015

no hemo

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that was the best joke i’ve heard all month

wembleyfragglesarchive

im washing me and my clothes bitch

wembleyfragglesarchive

humansofnewyork

“I’m pretty sure I’m a sociopath. Or something close to it. My parents were pilots, so I spent most of my early childhood on a small island in Tunisia. The only other kids were the children of a local hotelkeeper. I was so isolated that I even invented my own words. By the time I got to high school, I was a monster. I only cared about being the best. I was a bully. I’d argue just for the sake of arguing. I would destroy any belief, just to be right. My behavior is different now. But I think I’m still a sociopath. I’m not sure I feel empathy. But I do always try to make the empathetic choice. It’s an intellectual thing for me. I’m intellectually convinced of the need for empathy. I choose to help other people. I choose to be a reliable friend. I have a wonderful wife who judges me by my actions, and not my reasons for them. Sometimes I feel like Pinocchio. Was he a real boy? Yes, because that’s what he always strived to be.”

mildredkrinkle

mood

humansofnewyork

“My mother’s friends say that I’m just like her. She died of breast cancer when I was two years old. I had to grow up fast because my father was always working and seldom around. I was doing my own laundry at the age of seven. I figured the puberty thing out on my own. During high school, I’d leave for entire weekends without my dad even asking where I’d been. Then one year at Thanksgiving, my aunt told me that my mother had left me a letter and a video. She got so angry when I told her I’d never gotten it. I confronted my Dad about it, and he said that he ‘remembered something like that.’ He drove me to a safety deposit box—but the box was empty. He couldn’t remember what happened. He had one job. One thing that would mean more to me than anything else, and he couldn’t do it. My mom’s friends always tell me: ‘She would be so proud of you,’ or ‘She was so in love with you. But that’s not the same. It’s not the same as something directly from her. Something she made especially for me. Just one thing that actually says: ‘This is how much I love you.’”

humansofnewyork

“When I was a child, it was up to me to feed our family because my father couldn’t work. I had a job at a motorcycle repair shop. Everyone would sit at home and wait for me to make money. Once we almost ran out of food. We didn’t have a single rupee and there was nothing to eat. I could handle it, but I couldn’t bear the thought of my baby sister going to sleep hungry. I sat at my shop all day, praying for a customer. But nobody came. Then just as night was falling, a man drove up with a puncture in his tire. The price of the repair was three rupees. But when I was finished, the man handed me twenty rupees and drove away. I was able to buy two kilograms of rice. My entire life turned around that day. My shop became very busy. We were never hungry again. Even today I think about that man. I never saw his face. He changed not just my life, but the lives of my entire family. I wonder who he was. Sometimes I think it was God himself.”

(Mumbai, India)

humansofnewyork

“I was a full time housewife. I kept mostly to myself. I was a very shy person. Then one year a local school asked if I could volunteer to teach art to the children. Just one hour every day. I did such a good job that the next year they asked me to teach full time. My husband didn’t want me to do it. He said: ‘You told me it would just be one hour.” But I told him: ‘I listened to you for twenty-five years, now it’s my turn to take the reins.’ I ended up teaching for fifteen years. I built such a good reputation that children came from other schools to join my class. The whole school threw a party when I retired. The children sang songs and danced. It just made me feel so special. Teaching was the best decision I ever made. Now I feel like I’ve done something positive with my life.” (Mumbai, India)

apjvff

@ Starbucks

me: hot chocolate, please.

barista: oh it’s perfect for a day like this isn’t it?

me: yes =)

barista: not a coffee drinker are you?

me: try something difference.

[3 minutes later]

barista: tall hot chocolate! have a great day.

me: thank you.

pardonmewhileipanic

humansofnewyork

“It was a tsunami. In April of ’82 there was an article in the New York Times about a new gay cancer, and everyone thought ‘oh well.’ I was in my twenties. I wasn’t worried about a thing. But then every week you started to hear about somebody becoming ill. My boss was one of the first. He was a famous florist. He went into the hospital on Thanksgiving and was dead by Easter. I lost most of my friends. A lot of the first men to die were privileged. They were closeted, corporate white men. During the day they were bankers but at night they’d hit the leather clubs and bars. But they learned their privilege didn’t matter after they got sick. They were just ‘gay.’ We had to fight for AIDS to be recognized by the government. We joined together with people of color, and junkies, and prostitutes. It was a beautiful thing, really. Our feminist lesbian sisters taught us how to protest because they’d been doing it for decades. They showed us how to organize meetings, and bring people together, and force the government to the table—things we’d never had to think about as white men.”

humansofnewyork

“I had an awakening on a balcony in Seattle. I was listening to soul music on my Walkman. And I was paying attention to the music. And suddenly I realized that I was the attention itself. I realized that I’m not my mind—I’m the awareness of my mind. We’re all just drops of consciousness and if you get to the point where you can turn around and see your drop, you’ll discover that it’s connected to an ocean of consciousness. And then you’ll be illumined. I don’t care if anyone believes me. I’m not trying to convert anyone. There’s nothing to convert because everyone is exactly where they’re supposed to be right now.”

humansofnewyork

“At first I told myself I could get past it. I said, ‘Let’s just see how it goes.’ We had excellent dates. Everything else about her was exactly what I wanted. I didn’t want to ruin something good for that one little reason. But it’s been 1.5 years. And I feel horrible, but I just can’t get past it. And I feel like a bad person for being bothered by it. I can’t bring myself to tell her. We’re going to couple’s therapy next week, but I still don’t think I’ll be able to say it. Is there any right way to ask someone to lose weight for you?”

mildredkrinkle

You don't deserve her

captainsnoop-deactivated2020041

how the human brain works:

electricity tickles the meat so that different slimes come out. sometimes the slime feels good sometimes bad. some people make more bad slime than good slime. that’s called clinical depression.