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nikaalexandra:

the worst thing about writing is that you aren’t just a writer. you have to be a thousand things. a poet, a flirt, a weapons expert, a bleeding heart, a scholar, a legendary cook, a theorist, an engineer, a reckless teenage girl, a dying god. you have to be able to write monologues and speeches and heartfelt confessions, and you have to make them believable. writing is putting yourself into someone else’s shoes.

writing is really hard (◕︿◕✿)

youreanangelandimgonnacry asked:

New gibson mandolins cost from approx. $1800 for an A model with no fancy appointments all the way up $22,000 for a Distressed master model F-style. Lloyd Loar signed vintage mandolins can fetch around $200,000....

I’ve been in the market for an F-Style, so all the ones I’ve seen are more expensive than my Hummingbird. I haven’t seen a Loar for $200,000 yet, but I don’t doubt it for a minute. The only one I’ve ever come across was up for almost $100,000. I tried to avoid getting attached to Gibson mandos after I saw the F-Style for around $20,000 a couple years ago. Simply because of my wallet, I think I might have to go for an A-Style, but I’ve had my eye on a Collings… Unfortunately, I have been able to find any local dealers of the model I want in the Tri-State area. ;(  *sigh* Musician problems, no?

thequeenmermaid:

abolished-your-mythology:

foxykatiee:

thekirbykat:

abbiegoth:

heatherm00ch:

jordanorsomething:

punkrawkanarkay:

Foxes are weird. They’re like dogcats.

dogcats

STOP

I have a policy to reblog this every time it appears on my dash thank you

last one keeps encountering errors with windows.

This must be why I’m so weird. My last name is fox.

Never not reblog these bbs!

A fox once jogged alongside my dad, halfway around a running track at a public park. Eventually it just looked up at him and jogged into the woods.

(Source: daranon)

I haven’t made a post on here in a while. Mostly because I’ve just become disaffected with Tumblr in general, but also because I barely use my computer. 

Unfortunately, I’ve been prompted to make a post tonight by a rather disturbingly heartbreaking video sent to my inbox. The individual complained of bullying and believing that they are only alive to be entertainment for the sick joy of others. 

Whether this video was authentic, recorded to make a statement, or simply made for some unfathomable purpose, I’m making a post in order to say that no one is alive simply to exist and suffer for the pleasure of others. 

Maybe this is just me, but life (the simple homeostasis of breathing, thinking, feeling, dreaming) is a blessing. Events in my life have led me to believe this, and I will continue to preach this wholeheartedly until the day I die: every person on this planet is a human, and, until they flout that essence of humanity, that fundamental hope and ability to love and share, create, communicate, destroy, or act, they deserve respect from all other humans. Once a person infringes on the happiness or pursuit of such, they forfeit their right to any sense of respect or caring on a more implicit level.

Perhaps this view is harsh, and people might argue that people can be rehabilitated and reformed into model citizens.

When I say “infringing on someone else’s happiness” I mean injuring, killing, or psychologically beating someone and inflicting one’s own anger and inner turmoil upon another individual.

The person who spoke in this video—regardless of validity—believed that others thought they should just stop living. He believed that people thought he would better serve humanity by committing suicide, than by improving on whatever behavior, trait, flaw, or reason with which they found fault.  I am stunned that there are people who find such abusive behavior acceptable, and my deepest sympathies go out to anyone who faces such cruelty. 

After the Boston Marathon bombing, and countless other acts of terror and cruelty we hear about in the news (hate crimes, muggings, murders, whatever the frightening case may be), one would think more people would embrace a bone-deep longing for compassion and acceptance of those closest to them. One would hope such devastation would at least inspire more serious introspection, meta-cognition as some call it, self-assessment. 

If we ever want our children to be happy and safe, we need to start taking care of the people around us. At home, school, work, your neighbors, extended family, just the random joes walking down the street. 

I wanted to write this post to say kindness matters and so do you. No matter who you are, or what people say, there is someone somewhere that cares what happens to you. There is someone somewhere that will cry for you. Every life is a gift, and it shouldn’t be wasted. Focus on what few things makes you happy—not what just eases the pain, but what truly brings a smile to your face and a lightness to your heart—and never stop fighting for that happiness, that dream, that love, that hope. 

Thanks for reading this. Thanks for taking the time. 

Love, 

Jane

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