This was hat/babe night.
(I am well aware that a hairclip is not a hat)
For his recently published picture book Freckles (Splice Pictures Publishing), the Swiss photographer Reto Caduff has taken pictures of freckled women all over Europe. His pictures prove: freckles are beautiful. Don’t hide yourself in the shade! I think what I love about this the most is the vast diversity of people who are blessed with freckles. (x)
I have always wanted super prominent freckles. So beautiful!
Beautiful. I wish there was men as well.
Photographer John William Keedy has had to deal with an anxiety disorder for some nine years now. Never feeling like he quite fit in, and at times so nervous around crowds that he would only go to the grocery store when he was certain it was empty, he’s intimately familiar with the type of neurotic behavior a condition like his can encourage.
His photo series It’s Hardly Noticeable is an exploration of these neurotic, obsessive and strange behaviors that manifest as part of anxiety-based mental disorders.
The series also takes a long hard look at normalcy, and what it means to be normal.
it’s friday! i tried to bleach and dye a denim vest but it disintegrated cuz i fucked up the bleaching. now all i have is a pile of raggedy hot pink fibers :( to console myself i decided to drink some rogue chocolate stout, put on a bunch of eyeliner & play dress up. y’all have seen all of this already probably but i love everything too much to not continually show it off….
jacket~ h&m. heart studs added by me (should i do the other side??? i can’t make up my mind)
cat skirt~ me
tights~ probably f21
shoes~ floral docs
i’m posting pictures of my own outfit on my fashion blog like a dork
This is kind of like my dream outfit
This skirt, always and forever
For months, every morning when my daughter was in preschool, I watched her construct an elaborate castle out of blocks, colorful plastic discs, bits of rope, ribbons and feathers, only to have the same little boy gleefully destroy it within seconds of its completion.
No matter how many times he did it, his parents never swooped in BEFORE the morning’s live 3-D reenactment of “Invasion of AstroMonster.” This is what they’d say repeatedly:
“You know! Boys will be boys!”
“He’s just going through a phase!”
“He’s such a boy! He LOVES destroying things!”
“Oh my god! Girls and boys are SO different!”
“He. Just. Can’t. Help himself!”
I tried to teach my daughter how to stop this from happening. She asked him politely not to do it. We talked about some things she might do. She moved where she built. She stood in his way. She built a stronger foundation to the castle, so that, if he did get to it, she wouldn’t have to rebuild the whole thing. In the meantime, I imagine his parents thinking, “What red-blooded boy wouldn’t knock it down?”
She built a beautiful, glittery castle in a public space.
It was so tempting.
He just couldn’t control himself and, being a boy, had violent inclinations.
Her consent didn’t matter. Besides, it’s not like she made a big fuss when he knocked it down. It wasn’t a “legitimate” knocking over if she didn’t throw a tantrum.
His desire — for power, destruction, control, whatever- - was understandable.
Maybe she “shouldn’t have gone to preschool” at all. OR, better if she just kept her building activities to home.
I know it’s a lurid metaphor, but I taught my daughter the preschool block precursor of don’t “get raped” and this child, Boy #1, did not learn the preschool equivalent of “don’t rape.”
Not once did his parents talk to him about invading another person’s space and claiming for his own purposes something that was not his to claim. Respect for her and her work and words was not something he was learning. How much of the boy’s behavior in coming years would be excused in these ways, be calibrated to meet these expectations and enforce the “rules” his parents kept repeating?
There was another boy who, similarly, decided to knock down her castle one day. When he did it his mother took him in hand, explained to him that it was not his to destroy, asked him how he thought my daughter felt after working so hard on her building and walked over with him so he could apologize. That probably wasn’t much fun for him, but he did not do it again.
There was a third child. He was really smart. He asked if he could knock her building down. She, beneficent ruler of all pre-circle-time castle construction, said yes… but only after she was done building it and said it was OK. They worked out a plan together and eventually he started building things with her and they would both knock the thing down with unadulterated joy. You can’t make this stuff up.
Take each of these three boys and consider what he might do when he’s older, say, at college, drunk at a party, mad at an ex-girlfriend who rebuffs him and uses words that she expects will be meaningful and respecte, “No, I don’t want to. Stop. Leave.”
The “overarching attitudinal characteristic” of abusive men is entitlement.