Peter Solarz
RMH
occasionally subtle
NASA
JVL
cherry valley forever
Product Placement
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
roma★
taylor price
we're not kids anymore.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
h
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Kaledo Art
Game of Thrones Daily
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art blog(derogatory)
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@ramblnsofmissy-blog-blog
So this year, don’t focus too much on finding your strengths. Give attention to identify and exploit your weaknesses. God has not given them to you in vain. Identify them. Accept them. Exploit them. Magnify the power of Christ with them. Don’t waste your weaknesses.
John Piper
http://www.desiringgod.org/blog/posts/don-t-waste-your-weaknesses-in-2014
(via consciouslysam)
Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.
(via incandence)
“Even when I hear nothing, I rest in knowing He hears me.”
Bryce Avary (via community4christ)
Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; And when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.
Victor Hugo (via palegreenstarss)
May the space between where I am and where I want to be inspire me.
Tracee Ellis Ross (via nonelikejesus)
13 things my uncle told me before he died: not everyone has the blessing to understand sadness when waiting at the bus stop, it’s okay to smoke cigarettes never touch anyone else’s clothes at the laundromat it’s okay to miss the people who were bullets to you when your grandmother asks you how you are, be honest never be afraid to say “no” even after you’ve said “yes” if someone tells you graffiti isn’t art, prove them wrong remember people by their eye color not their clothes you’re allowed to like dark chocolate with tangerines don’t lie that you don’t have a lighter when you really do turn your phone off every once in a while and find the moon if you want a tattoo, don’t let anyone tell you not to get it if you ever find yourself at the graveyard, read the names
poems from my uncles grave (via irynka)
Flirt. Have fun. Stop trying to find a husband.
Lee Dukes (via kacienichole)
Stop waiting for friday, for summer, for a boy to fall in love with you. Happiness is achieved when you stop waiting for it and make something of the moment you’re in right now.
e-stablish (via pureblyss)
The fact is, I need God to help me love God. And if I need His help to love Him, a perfect being, I definitely need His help to love other, fault-filled humans.
Francis Chan, Crazy Love (via nonelikejesus)
Rape culture is when I was six, and my brother punched my two front teeth out. Instead of reprimanding him, my mother said “Stefanie, what did you do to provoke him?” When my only defense was my mother whispering in my ear, “Honey, ignore him. Don’t rile him up. He just wants a reaction.” As if it was my sole purpose, the reason six-year-old me existed, was to not rile up my brother. It’s starts when we’re six, and ends when we grow up assuming the natural state of a man is a predator, and I must walk on eggshells, as to not “rile him up.” Right, mom? Rape culture is when through casual dinner conversation, my father says that women who get raped are asking for it. He says, “I see them on the streets of New York City, with their short skirts and heavy makeup. Asking for it.” When I used to be my father’s hero but will he think I was asking for it? (will he think) Will he think I deserved it? Will he hold me accountable or will he hold me, even though the touch of a man - especially my father’s - burns as if I were holding the sun in the palm of my hand. Rape culture is you were so ashamed, you thought it would be easier for your parents to find you dead, than to say, “Hey mom and dad,” It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it. I never asked for this attention, I never asked to be a target, to be weak because I was born with two X chromosomes, to walk in fear, to always look behind me, in front of me, next to me, I never asked to be the prey. I never wanted to spend my life being something someone feasts upon, a meal for the eternally starved. I do not want to hear about the way I taste anymore. I will not let you eat me alive. Rape culture is I shouldn’t defend my friend when an overaggressive frat boy has his hand on her ass, because standing up for her body “makes me a target.” Women are afraid to speak up, because they fear their own lives - but I’d rather take the hit than live in a culture of silence. I am told that I will always be the victim, pre-determined by the DNA in my weaker, softer body. I have birthing hips, not a fighter’s stance. I am genetically pre-dispositioned to lose every time. Rape culture is he was probably abused as a child. When he even has some form of a justification and all I have are the things that provoked him, and the scars from his touch are woven of the darkest and toughest strings, underneath the layer of my skin. Rape culture leaves me finding pieces of him left inside of me. A bone of his elbow. The cap of his knee. There is something so daunting in the way that I know it will take me years to methodically extract him from my body. And that twinge I will get sometimes in my arm fifteen years later? Proof of the past. Like a tattoo I didn’t ask for. Somehow I am permanently inked. Rape culture is you can’t wear that outfit anymore without feeling dirty, without feeling like you somehow earned it. You will feel like you are walking on knives, every time you wear the shoes you smashed his nose in with. Imaginary blood on the bottom of your heels, thinking, maybe this will heal me. Those shoes are your freedom, But the remains of a life long fight. You will always carry your heart, your passion, your absolute will to live, but also the shame and the guilt and the pain. I saved myself but I still feel like I’m walking on knives. Rape culture is “Stefanie, you weren’t really raped, you were one of the lucky ones.” Because my body wasn’t penetrated by a penis, but fingers instead, that I should feel lucky. I should get on my hands and knees and say, thank you. Thank you for being so kind. Rape culture is “things could have been worse.” “It’s been a month, Stefanie. Get out of bed.” “You’ll have to get over this eventually.” “Don’t let it ruin your life.” Rape culture is he told you that after he touched you, no one would ever want you again. And you believed him. Rape culture is telling your daughters not to get raped, instead of teaching your sons how to treat all women. That sex is not a right. You are not entitled to this. The worst possible thing you can call a woman is a slut, a whore, a bitch. The worst possible thing you can call a man is a bitch, a pussy, a girl. The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl. The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl. Being a woman is the ultimate rejection, the ultimate dismissal of strength and power, the absolute insult. When I have a daughter, I will tell her that she is not an insult. When I have a daughter, she will know how to fight. I will look at her like the sun when she comes home with anger in her fists. Because we are human beings and we do not always have to take what we are given. They all tell her not to fight fire with fire, but that is only because they are afraid of her flames. I will teach her the value of the word “no” so that when she hears it, she will not question it. My daughter, Don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love you have for yourself and the lengths you go to preserve it. My daughter, I am alive because of the fierce love I have for myself, and because my father taught me to protect that. He taught me that sometimes, I have to do my own bit of saving, pick myself off the ground and wipe the dirt off my face, because at the end of the day, there is only me. I am alive because my mother taught me to love myself. She taught me that I am an enigma - a mystery, a paradox, an unfinished masterpiece and I must love myself enough to see how I turn out. I am alive because even beaten, voiceless, and back against the wall, I knew there was an ounce of me worth fighting for. And for that, I thank my parents. Instead of teaching my daughter to cover herself up, I will show her how to be exposed. Because no is not “convince me”. No is not “I want it”. You call me, “Little lady, pretty girl, beautiful woman.” But I am not any of these things for you. I am exploding light, my daughter will be exploding light, and you, better cover your eyes.
slk
Rape Culture (Cover Your Eyes)
Let’s just go see Frozen again.
Anyone who’s seen Frozen (via itsadisneything)
A young girl enjoys a cup of tea courtesy of the advancing Allied armies in a sector of Europe now cleared of Hitler’s troops. 1944.
katch silva
Maybe 2014 is the year that we run back to the Father quicker than before. Less shame and fear about our failings, and more faith and courage in His unfailing grace and mercy.
Brydee (via youmakemewannabebrave)
