
#extradirty
art blog(derogatory)
sheepfilms
The Stonewall Inn

Love Begins

Jimmy Eat World
Fieri Frames

@theartofmadeline
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
KIROKAZE
The Bright Sessions
Fai_Ryy
NASA
★
Doug Jones
Color Me Curious
EXPECTATIONS
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

shark vs the universe
No title available
seen from Pakistan

seen from Bangladesh
seen from Ecuador
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Uzbekistan

seen from Indonesia
seen from United States
seen from Romania

seen from Türkiye

seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Mexico

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Bangladesh
@mzgao-blog
life goals.
“In a Relationship”
We are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders.
G.K. Chesterton
We’re told not to travel.
We’re told not to travel by those closest to us. By our well-intentioned parents, and uncles and aunts. By our best friends. By those we love, and those who love us back. We’re told not to travel by those who want us to stay.
We’re told not to travel by those we don’t give a damn about. By the boss who cares more about next month’s schedule than your dreams. By the landlord who doesn’t want to find someone new. We’re told not to travel by those we inconvenience.
We’re told not to travel by our calendars. By the wedding coming up next month. By the holiday season after that. By our mom’s birthday. By that thing your friend does every year that you never miss. By the season finale of that show you like. We’re told not to travel, because we’re told there’s too much to do.
We’re told not to travel by our bank accounts. By our credit cards, and our utility bills. By the price of a tank of gas for the cars we haven’t paid off yet. By the cost of tuition and two-hundred dollar textbooks. We’re told not to travel, because we’re told we can’t afford it.
We’re told not to travel by our television. By the pictures of extremists, waving guns and wearing black. By the stories about diseases, and wars, and missing children. We’re told that other countries aren’t safe. We’re told that tourists are targets. We’re told to stay inside and put bigger locks on our doors. We’re told not to travel, when we don't trust other people.
We’re told not to travel by social anxiety. By the fear we have that we can’t quite explain. By not wanting to spend twelve-hours next to a stranger on an airplane. By not wanting to sleep in a room with people you’ve never met. Because what if they want to talk and you have nothing to say? Or what if they don’t want to talk, and you’re alone the whole time? And what if you take a wrong turn and get lost in a strange country, and what if, what if, what if, what if...
We’re told not to travel when we don't trust ourselves.
And yet, we travel.
With the whole world giving us reasons not to, we do it anyway. We pack a bag, and we head for the horizon. And when we start to travel, something strange happens.
We trust ourselves. We choose not to let our lives be defined by fears and insecurities. Wayne Gretzky has a fear of flying. But if he didn't trust himself to get on an airplane a hundred times a year, he wouldn't have been the greatest hockey player of all time.
We trust others. We choose not to let the media convince us that humanity is bad. Humanity isn't bad; we've just given the bad ones the spotlight. All over the world I've met friendly people who are proud of their countries. People who will give you directions or recommend you places to go. All you need to do is ask.
We buy less. We choose to find value in things that don’t need to be bought. Every time I return from travelling I end up donating old clothing, or finding some way to minimize my possessions. It's liberating. To quote Palahniuk's Fight Club: The things you own end up owning you.
We stay less busy. We choose to save time to travel, to dream, and to live. This doesn't mean your mom's birthday or your friend's wedding isn't important to you. But if you're waiting for a free schedule before your next big adventure, you could be waiting your whole life.
We worry less. We choose to lead our own lives, not the lives others want for us. Everyone has their own perspective, and is going to want something different from you. While every traveller needs to know when to say yes, they also need to know when to say no.
And when we come home from our travels, we love more. Because there’s nothing quite like travel to show you what you had before you left.
- Dan Vineberg
Classical cover of Taylor Swift's Blank Space
The Brain on 23
"We are the 23-year-olds. We are the ones squirming in our chairs at the office because we still feel awkward in our grown-up clothes. We strut through city streets with eyes cast toward our screens, desperately seeking any source that will tell us the decisions we've made are valid. We work hard in jobs we aren't sure we want to make those fancy degrees feel worth it, and we date people we aren't sure we love to make everything feel less lonely.
We spend hours drinking wine on apartment floors, promising one another that those who broke our hearts will not own us forever. We zone out in grad school classrooms or type away in junior offices or teach English in Rwanda, all the while wondering if we are supposed to be somewhere else.
We are 23, and hangovers hurt now. Most of our conversations these days center on assuring one another we are going to be okay. We are proud of each other but hard on ourselves. When a friend does something as simple as cooking a food more complex than pasta, we applaud her, yet we berate ourselves for not yet having a corner office or a bestselling memoir or a thriving startup.
We dance all night to Taylor Swift because she understands. We love who we want, and we hate labels. We are not in college anymore, and we've just become too old to crash their parties. Everyone we know no longer lives on the same block, and we long for the days of running back and forth between houses at 1 a.m. We have few obligations, yet we are always stressed, wondering if life will ever be more certain.
Our breakups never end because social media keeps reminding us of our exes. Even when we block them or unfriend them, their names are bound to pop up on our news feeds below pictures they've liked, and their faces assault us when mutual friends post albums. We hate online dating, but we all do it because it feels like the only way. We spend as much time swiping on Tinder as we do with actual human beings.
We are 23, and we constantly try to tell ourselves to stop complaining and enjoy our youth. Life isn't really that bad. We have our families, our friends and our health. We are young and vibrant and the world is ours. We are closer to our parents than the 23-year-olds who came before us, and many of us are lucky enough to still have their support. We have the time to go to bars and be with friends. We get to party and work and not worry about others depending on us. Yet all this fear remains, and it melts us into pessimists. Because life is pretty good, and still we can't stop worrying. So we worry even more about what will happen to us when there are real things to worry about.
We hear the grown-ups urge us to calm down. They tell us it will all fall into place, that if they could give advice to their younger selves it'd be to send the butterflies away and have a good time before age catches up with us. We hear them say these things, but we don't believe them. Things don't just fall into place. We have to put them there, and we feel like every second we spend streaming movies from our bedrooms is a second we are not putting ourselves out there. Yet we stream on.
We waste time the same way we did in college, only now doing so makes us uncomfortable. We are at the point in our lives where we have realized the futility of sitting around watching Gilmore Girls episodes we've seen one hundred times, but we lack the resources and maturity to actually do something to change that. We are too old to go out every night, but we are too young to stay in and do nothing. We want to be more productive and live a more worthwhile existence, but we haven't quite figured out how. We don't yet have children or spouses or secure jobs or whatever it is that would make us feel like we had more of a reason to live. We don't necessarily want those things, but we do want something. So we sit in this limbo, wishing there was something less worthless to do than watch Luke and Lorelei argue over coffee, yet continuing to do it while the butterflies flutter around our stomachs.
We are 23, and even though we are worried all the time, we still don't want to get older. We never want to reach the point where we cannot be considered kids, even though the studies we read say people are actually happier in their 30s. Because we may be scared, but we are still 23, and boy do we have fun.
We try to stop punishing ourselves for not becoming the next Lena Dunhams and Mark Zuckerbergs, but we overlook the fact that they are the exception to the rule of 23. Because for most of us, at 23 life detonates as we suddenly forget why we chose that major or moved to this city or loved that person. All we want is to understand who we are, and we can't. Only time will tell us."
- Molly Sprayregen
JGL lip syncing <3 <3 <3
Small Plates - "For the magazine’s fall Food issue, we treated six second graders from P.S. 295 in Brooklyn to dinner at Daniel, where the seven-course tasting menu goes for $220 a person."
Kinder - Tinder for Kids
But in my quiet moments, in those long rides in the back of a bus or the bed of a truck, my mind always circles back to Manaar. Thinking of him, of the anguish of his final days, and my own helplessness in the face of it, makes everything I have done, everything I want to do, seem as unsubstantial as the little vows you make yourself as you're going to sleep, the ones you've already forgotten by the time you wake up.
And the Mountains Echoed | Khaled Hosseini
The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
One Art by Elizabeth Bishop