[sashayed]

My coworker sent me this insane Gwyneth Paltrow jewelry ad this morning and it FUCKING H A U N T S me. SPOILERS, but I have so many questions. Is the husband just in space or is he dead? I mean, he’s dead. If you took away that jaunty French music it would be obvious that he is definitely super dead. How many of those CASSETTES are there? Putting aside how spooky it is, just visually (Does Alice ever have people over? Do they just pretend to ignore that she has this CRAZY PERSON BOOKSHELF full of HAND-LABELED CASSETTE TAPES like some Martha’s-Vineyard Fox Mulder??), that must have taken literal days of his life. Locked in the bathroom for an entire week like “DON’T COME IN HERE, ALICE, I’M BUSY.” How long ago did he go to space if CASSETTE TAPES were considered an acceptable way to record audio when he went up? He has been in space for 20 years. He is dead. What is Alice’s life now? She just wanders around her giant, spotless 900 million dollar house, imprisoned by her own privilege and the ghost of her former life. Drawing the same three drawings over and over like the kid from “The Ring.” Drinking juice from a carafe with an EMPTY GLASS on the other side of the table, presumably so she can imagine her dead space husband is there. “Drink up, darling,” Alice says lovingly, reaching into the empty air to cup an imaginary bristled cheek. “You haven’t touched this delicious guava-lavender purification tea I brewed for you, and you must get your vitamins before you go to space.” Also, she has a picture of HERSELF next to her picture OF HIM, instead of a picture OF THEM, together, which makes me wonder: is Gwyneth Paltrow’s character “Alice” at all?? Is this like that astronaut love triangle where the one astronaut attacked the other one???? Did Gwyneth murder Alice while her husband was in space, and now she pretends to live Alice’s life????  “Alice has been such a recluse since Roderick went to space in 1996,” Alice’s friends say, not realizing that Alice has been mummifying in the charming 18th century icebox in the servants’ kitchen since 1996 and Gwyneth is the new Alice. “We’re so happy together, aren’t we, Roderick,” Gwyneth croons to her tape player, wrapping her arms around her own torso, swaying dreamily before the full length mirror, wearing nothing but Alice’s special 20-year-old surprise necklace and a wig made of of Alice’s hair. I love this commercial so much. 

[wide-eyedwalker]

Also how has she not worn her favorite tee shirt in 20 years

And why does Roderick have the voice of a robot?

[sashimigrade]

My 5-year-old insists that Bilbo Baggins is a girl. The first time she made this claim, I protested. Part of the fun of reading to your kids, after all, is in sharing the stories you loved as a child. And in the story I knew, Bilbo was a boy. A boy hobbit. (Whatever that entails.) But my daughter was determined. She liked the story pretty well so far, but Bilbo was definitely a girl. So would I please start reading the book the right way? I hesitated. I imagined Tolkien spinning in his grave. I imagined mean letters from his testy estate. I imagined the story getting as lost in gender distinctions as dwarves in the Mirkwood. Then I thought: What the hell, it’s just a pronoun. My daughter wants Bilbo to be a girl, so a girl she will be. And you know what? The switch was easy. Bilbo, it turns out, makes a terrific heroine. She’s tough, resourceful, humble, funny, and uses her wits to make off with a spectacular piece of jewelry. Perhaps most importantly, she never makes an issue of her gender—and neither does anyone else.

Bilbo Baggins is a girl: Until children’s books catch up to our daughters, rewrite them. (via sashimigrade)

[oceanflowerbird]

Messy thoughts, messy hair, messy life.

Six Word Story by P.P. (via halluzinogen)

[dannynorth]

I was lucky enough to spend some time with The National a few months ago.  Tremendously lovely people.  We bonded over Iron Maiden.

[joyceanfartboner-deact]

"chill out it’s just a joke" is the mating call of the gross asshole

[softerworld]

A Softer World: 1026

(because i need an excuse to choose me)

buy this print

[serialstranger]

The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him, or into the air all around him. She had become a physical necessity.

Georges Orwell, 1984  (via thatkindofwoman)

[peacelovejoynlife-blog-blog]

If you’re feeling frightened about what comes next, don’t be. Embrace the uncertainty. Allow it to lead you places. Be brave as it challenges you to exercise both your heart and your mind as you create your own path toward happiness; don’t waste time with regret. Spin wildly into your next action. Enjoy the present, each moment, as it comes, because you’ll never get another one quite like it. And if you should ever look up and find yourself lost, simply take a breath and start over. Retrace your steps and go back to the purest place in your heart…where your hope lives. You’ll find your way again.

Everwood (via creatingaquietmind)

[literallysame]

[evasionne]

[waltwishes]

The Little Mermaid (1989) - Background design.

[2345987654321-deactivated201403]

I considered Medusa. I’d never studied her, but even so, something didn’t sit right with me in her story. I don’t think it’s that she actually turned people to stone. I think that’s just a metaphor for their fear. That when they saw such a real, such a wild, magic and powerful woman who lived so unapologetically outside the confines of domesticated femininity, well… they were forced to face their own fears about what that meant. Which probably rendered them as immobile as stone, mentally or physically.

Off The Map (via toxines)

[thedevilandthedeepblue]

Rice Krispie treats dipped in chocolate, a handmade watercolor card, and a vintage army sweater. Happy Valentines Day, Mark ❤️

[olivedunham]

have you considered that maybe i am not pleasant? maybe i wear lipstick so that you will see my pretty pink mouth wrapping around a coffee cup lid and be distracted enough not to notice that i am intelligent and powerful; a threat. maybe i draw my brows into high arches so you will look at my unimpressed skepticism and overlook my spiteful glare as a trick of my silly, girlish routine. maybe i wear my heels so high and thin so that i grasp your attention with the sway of my hips as i listen to the click-clack-click against the floor and know that if you should try to overpower me i walk on sharpened knives. maybe when i laugh at your worthless jokes i am really baring my fangs waiting patiently for the day that i sink them into your neck. i am not made of porcelain pleasantries; you will find that these things are my armor to keep you at a distance so you do not step on me and shatter my fragile control. i am not a husk — i am not wilting. i am turning my head so that the fire blazing through my eyes does not catch on the accelerant of your sweaty palms and burn your bones to dust. i am not your pretty girl; i am a fury, a faerie, a phoenix — a forest of werewolves and wendigos that will carve out your chest so that the next time i paint my pretty pink lips i will taste the copper tang of your dying breaths.

R.K., I Am The Wolf Only Barely Contained (via amon-isis)

[striders]

this winter’s trend is “ned stark’s bastard chic.” dress yourself in black leather and fur and an inferiority complex that’s haunted you for your whole life

[larmoyante]

I long so much to make beautiful things. But beautiful things require effort and disappointment and perseverance.

Vincent van Gogh (via larmoyante)

[magnus-burntsides]

We as women are trained to see ourselves as cheap imitations of fashion photographs, rather than seeing fashion photographs as cheap imitations of women.

Naomi Wolf, The Beauty Myth (via spoookywinchesters)