Hello world.

I'm an odd person who tries very hard to keep her common look intact. Not really. I don't think that I'm able to fool anyone. Or perhaps I'm fooling you? You'll have to see for yourselves. Interested in all creative medium, Tumblr's insane but irresistible fandom communities, and anything fun really.

[starfireflywars]

by Khyzyl Saleem

[pumpkinspicepoet]

Every time I hate my body I remember that there are millions of old rich white men who benefit from my self hatred and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s old rich white men so I snap out of that shit instantly cos I ain’t EVER giving them the satisfaction.

[y0ulittleshit]

Oh my fucKING GOD

[looktothe-mountains-and-sky-dea]

Wait stop this is a game changer.

[someofthisrumham]

i have reblogged this 4 times; i have thought about this every fucking day

[theropegeek-deactivated20170722]

Reminder!

[sexeducationforprudes]

“If every woman in the world woke up tomorrow and decided that she loved herself and loved her body just the way it is, how many industries would go out of business?”

[cecechiro]

IMPORTANT

[beltsquid]

think i've asked before but i'd love to hear what you think about elena's family/childhood etc

I think Elena had a pretty average middle-class white American upbringing.  I see her as a vocal, outspoken kid who voluntarily got herself involved with extracurricular like Girl Scouts and stuff.  She wasn’t quite a nerd, but not necessarily The Popular Girl, either?  Everyone kinda knew her, she was Nice and always got good grades.

For a time, she went through a dolphin phase and wanted to be a dolphin trainer, wouldn’t let anybody in the house eat tuna because of fishing practices, watched all those reruns of Flipper on Nickelodeon even though they were so boring, had Lisa Frank dolphin folders at school. The whole thing.  Around this time she also developed an interest in cryptids and urban legends (this is when she read about cursed Inca treasures and the like).

One of her parents is a school teacher, the other works a  white collar office job.  They divorced around the time she hit junior high–relatively amicable and painless for the two of them–and that actually rather upset Elena because she just didn’t see it coming and didn’t understand why her parents didn’t love each other anymore. 

Her high school had Channel One News broadcasts, and that was the time she got into the idea of journalism. Lisa Ling was her hero.

[ramoorebooks-deactivated2024011]

Famous authors, their writings and their rejection letters.

Sylvia Plath: There certainly isn’t enough genuine talent for us to take notice.

Rudyard Kipling: I’m sorry Mr. Kipling, but you just don’t know how to use the English language.

Emily Dickinson: [Your poems] are quite as remarkable for defects as for beauties and are generally devoid of true poetical qualities.

Ernest Hemingway (on The Torrents of Spring): It would be extremely rotten taste, to say nothing of being horribly cruel, should we want to publish it.

Dr. Seuss: Too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling.

The Diary of Anne Frank: The girl doesn’t, it seems to me, have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the ‘curiosity’ level.

Richard Bach (on Jonathan Livingston Seagull): will never make it as a paperback. (Over 7.25 million copies sold)

H.G. Wells (on The War of the Worlds): An endless nightmare. I do not believe it would “take”…I think the verdict would be ‘Oh don’t read that horrid book’. And (on The Time Machine): It is not interesting enough for the general reader and not thorough enough for the scientific reader.

Edgar Allan Poe: Readers in this country have a decided and strong preference for works in which a single and connected story occupies the entire volume.

Herman Melville (on Moby Dick): We regret to say that our united opinion is entirely against the book as we do not think it would be at all suitable for the Juvenile Market in [England]. It is very long, rather old-fashioned…

Jack London: [Your book is] forbidding and depressing.

William Faulkner: If the book had a plot and structure, we might suggest shortening and revisions, but it is so diffuse that I don’t think this would be of any use. My chief objection is that you don’t have any story to tell. And two years later: Good God, I can’t publish this!

Stephen King (on Carrie): We are not interested in science fiction which deals with negative utopias. They do not sell.

Joseph Heller (on Catch–22): I haven’t really the foggiest idea about what the man is trying to say… Apparently the author intends it to be funny – possibly even satire – but it is really not funny on any intellectual level … From your long publishing experience you will know that it is less disastrous to turn down a work of genius than to turn down talented mediocrities.

George Orwell (on Animal Farm): It is impossible to sell animal stories in the USA.

Oscar Wilde (on Lady Windermere’s Fan): My dear sir, I have read your manuscript. Oh, my dear sir.

Vladimir Nabokov (on Lolita): … overwhelmingly nauseating, even to an enlightened Freudian … the whole thing is an unsure cross between hideous reality and improbable fantasy. It often becomes a wild neurotic daydream … I recommend that it be buried under a stone for a thousand years.

The Tale of Peter Rabbit was turned down so many times, Beatrix Potter initially self-published it.

Lust for Life by Irving Stone was rejected 16 times, but found a publisher and went on to sell about 25 million copies.

John Grisham’s first novel was rejected 25 times.

Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen (Chicken Soup for the Soul) received 134 rejections.

Robert Pirsig (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance) received 121 rejections.

Gertrude Stein spent 22 years submitting before getting a single poem accepted.

Judy Blume, beloved by children everywhere, received rejections for two straight years.

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle received 26 rejections.

Frank Herbert’s Dune was rejected 20 times.

Carrie by Stephen King received 30 rejections.

The Diary of Anne Frank received 16 rejections.

Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone by J.K. Rolling was rejected 12 times.

Dr. Seuss received 27 rejection letters

[cidermoon]

Now this…THIS inspires me.

[studyingmeblr-deactivated201812]

Don’t give up people.

[championsaremade]

wow

[expressions-of-nature]

Yamal, Siberia by Catherine Vasyagina

[ramis-sunglasses]

HES SO SMALL

[stillrandom-blog]

Reality Shock

To realize that when your parents’ very old car they own refuses to work, well, there is no other way to get to the hospital to be treated than taking the bus.

[stillrandom-blog]

A story is something told – as the waitress tells her friend Rita about the fat man – it is something that really needs to be said. But though we feel its force and resonance, it is often hard to say what a story means. The most we can say, perhaps, is that a short story is about a moment in life; and that, after this moment, we realise something has changed.

Anne Enright reads ‘Fat’ by Raymond Carver

(via stillrandom)

[emesq-blog]

The best metaphor I know of for being a fiction writer is in Don DeLillo’s “Mao II,” where he describes a book-in-progress as a kind of hideously damaged infant that follows the writer around, forever crawling after the writer (dragging itself across the floor of restaurants where the writer’s trying to eat, appearing at the foot of the bed first thing in the morning, etc.), hideously defective, hydrocephalic and noseless and flipper-armed and incontinent and retarded and dribbling cerebo-spinal fluid out of its mouth as it mewls and blurbles and cries out to the writer, wanting love, wanting the very thing its hideousness guarantees it’ll get: the writer’s complete attention.

David Foster Wallace, “The Nature of the Fun” (via emesq)

[agemelle-blog]

Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something and has lost something.

H. Jackson Brown, Jr. (via chokingsilence)

[booksinthekitchen]

Padgett Powell, The Interrogative Mood

[stillrandom-blog]

booksinthekitchen:

The Czech novelist Milan Kundera once wrote that the proper job of fiction is to ask questions. If that’s the case, then Padgett Powell’s The Interrogative Mood must be the greatest novel of all time—for it is no less than an uninterrupted, 165-page string of questions, each asked by a nameless narrator of you, the unsuspecting reader.

Such an undertaking is, at the very least, an impressive display of literary stunt pilotry. But Powell’s crafty narrative voice adds several unexpected dimensions to the book, making it perform some astonishing feats of reinvention as it unfolds. The Interrogative Mood starts as an amusing gimmick, transforms along the way into the strangest job interview imaginable, detours more than once into what appears to be either a midlife crisis or some garden-variety existential panic, and winds up as easily my favourite book of the past year.

Read More

[twenty-four-robbers]

Dream Boyfriend

When I was young, I had a dream boyfriend. When we first met in that first dream, he stabbed me in the back with a knife.

In another dream we ran through a forest so thick the path was like tunnel. We were running from a witch. He was in many of my dreams, but not all, and we had memories together.

He was quiet. Had a sweet smile. Thick black hair, olive skin. He was tall and stocky. My age. I want to tell you his name, but it feels a little too secret. Names are like that. If I tell you his name something about him will feel less real. I’ve never told anyone the name my abuser had for me, either. I want to forget it. 

We barely ever spoke to each other, dream boyfriend and me. And we never touched. I didn’t know what sexuality was then, and that I was probably not straight. The only sex that happened in my dreams until adulthood was violence, so I think it meant something that my dream boyfriend and I never even kissed. He was just there beside me in the quiet intensity of my mind.

I haven’t seen dream boyfriend in a long time now.

[stillrandom-blog]

To the Ghost in my life

The itching won’t stop. There is no escaping you. You have invaded my mind, and now I carry your voice. When I’m alone I sense you, as if you’re by my side, talking with me. But you have no idea: you want her, not me. Her bed is the stuff of your dreams.

I’m throwing away the key. I will be master of my own mind. She will break your heart. So when that moment comes, you will turn to me. This new moon, I will use it to grow stronger. So that you will not have me, no matter how sweet you make my dreams taste. No one will.

I’m throwing away the key. I will love myself better than you ever could.

One day I will love myself deeper than anyone ever would.

[caughtintheatmosphere]

You’ll never know how much I care about you and how strong I feel about you. All I can do is just wait a bit longer. For a reason I do not yet know. I wait for hours staring at the bitter cup of coffee that sits before me with my heavy tired eyes. I just miss you. It’s the wicked hour of 3am and I can’t sleep. I close my eyes all I can see is yours filled with the mystery and fire I adore dearly. You’re still so beautiful. And I despise it because I can’t put anyone else above you. I wouldn’t be able to kiss you and act like it has no importance. I want to kiss you knowing that there’s equal emotion in return. I can’t bare loosing someone as beautiful as you. I hope you know there’s nights when I’m crying over you and yet I still won’t message you out of fear. I hope you know it’s been you for almost a year now. You’ve been on my mind everyday since. I’m terrified that I’m already loosing you and there’s nothing I can do but watch us die. I know I never had you. I know I never will. I just need you to tell me what to do. If this is the end I’ll miss you forever. I just wish you knew.

[hilokaul]

“To be my own master. Such a thing would be greater than all the magic and all the treasures in all the world.”

[chartermagic]

The Nine Gates of death.

-from Sabriel by Garth Nix

© Laura Tolton 

[kingwizardandthelizardgizza-blog]

Douglas Adams is the best when it comes to describe characters

[quasarkisses]

they need to teach classes on Douglas Adams analogies okay

“He leant tensely against the corridor wall and frowned like a man trying to unbend a corkscrew by telekinesis.”

“Stones, then rocks, then boulders which pranced past him like clumsy puppies, only much, much bigger, much, much harder and heavier, and almost infinitely more likely to kill you if they fell on you.”

“He gazed keenly into the distance and looked as if he would quite like the wind to blow his hair back dramatically at that point, but the wind was busy fooling around with some leaves a little way off.”

"It looked only partly like a spaceship with guidance fins, rocket engines and escape hatches and so on, and a great deal like a small upended Italian bistro.”

"If it was an emotion, it was a totally emotionless one. It was hatred, implacable hatred. It was cold, not like ice is cold, but like a wall is cold. It was impersonal, not as a randomly flung fist in a crowd is impersonal, but like a computer-issued parking summons is impersonal. And it was deadly - again, not like a bullet or a knife is deadly, but like a brick wall across a motorway is deadly.”

[nudityandnerdery]

And, of course: "The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.”

[assassinregrets]

the one that will always stay with me is “Arthur Dent was grappling with his consciousness the way one grapples with a lost bar of soap in the bath,” i feel like that was the first time i really understood what you could do with words.