The sad news of Robin Williams has had a deep effect on many, including those who are living with their own depression. You either speak of it, or you don’t. Either way, you have your own immense courage. Either way, you are doing incredibly well. Just incredibly well. Look at you. So full of strength, every day, regardless of what other people see. You know that it can get better and that not every day is the same. You always do your utmost best. You are amazing. Love and respect.
"This is what’s different: Now, I’m not getting any negativity. In fact, teenage boys come up to me on the street and want to get their pictures taken with me, want to give me a hug, tell me that Big Boo’s their favorite character. That means a lot to me. Because I’m winning the hearts and minds of people that are young and are going to grow up and control the world.” - Lea DeLaria
HOW THE OWL AND THE PUSSYCAT *REALLY* WENT TO SEA IN A BEAUTIFUL PEA-GREEN BOAT
They were the last owl and the last pussycat.
The very last.
They lived on an island west of here - a single smooth hill with no nooks or crannies for a small thing to hide.
Until a week ago, the hill-island had been populated entirely by owls, pussycats and pterodactyls.
It was a crappy ecosystem though and nature took its course.
"Let us escape together while we still can," said the pussycat, eyeing the owl hungrily - because cat, because bird.
"Er, only if you wear a bell," said the wise owl. "At all times, mind."
"Mmm," said the pussycat, evading the last bit. "Okay, the good news is there is a nearby island filled with bears."
"How is this good news?" said the owl.
"They use honey as currency, OBVIOUSLY," said the cat. "Because they are bears and very predictable. Remember how a conveniently recent hill-island shipwreck fortuitously left us with an absolute shitload of crates of honey?"
"I am aware of this incident," said the owl.
"We will go to this place which is obviously called Bear Island with our crates of dead man’s honey," said the cat smugly. "We will be RICH."
The owl did not like this plan. “Bear Island sounds like an unhappy place. The bears who live there can be rich or full, but not both.”
"Whatever," said the cat. "We are refugees and we will have to take what we can get. We’ll buy our way in and convince the Bear King that owls and pussycats are far more precious than honey. We will be the new currency within a week. They will never fold us or tear us or eat us. Bears are SUPER totally wilfully ignorant, actually. Embarrassing, really. Anyway they’ll fall for it."
"Can I suggest," said the owl hesitantly, "Can I just suggest… that we also take some of the money from the shipwreck just in case your plan is in any way flawed. Also, did I mention the need for your wearing a bell?"
"Oh, go on then," said the cat. "About the money, I mean." It made no mention of the bell.
In the dead of night,the owl and the pussycat built a raft as the pterodactyls slept. They built the raft from the ribcage of a perished pterodactyl. Literally everyone knows that pterodactyl bones are pea-green. That is what the ‘p’ stands for.
They set off at dawn and got lost and had to survive on flying fish clawed from the surface of the sea. The owl spent far too much time noodling on its acoustic guitar playing “Wonderwall” over and over again, and THAT WAS A PROBLEM. Also, because this is a story, instead of a mysterious case of guitar-related ‘owl overboard’ what actually happened is the deeply mutually unsuitable owl and pussycat fell in love.
And then the cat was pretty glad it had folded on the matter of bringing the cash… because a conservative approach to true love meant they needed to go see a little piggy-wig and buy a wedding ring.
The pussycat and owl had totally forgotten about Bear Island, which was only three days’ sail from hill-island. You know what the problem was? Wonderwall. It confused them. They spent a year and a day getting to a land where the Bong-Tree grows just because they heard a Piggy-wig was selling wedding rings there. It wouldn’t have happened if Noel Gallagher had kept his noodlings to himself.
They passed loads of nice islands on the way. Islands full of cats and owls and fish and mice all co-existing really well, for example.
The owl and the pussycat didn’t even notice, because endless renditions of Wonderwall.
Wonderwall had made them totally confused about everything.
A bunch of other stuff happened, famous stuff about about spoons and lunar leaps and spoons of a runcible nature.
But it was no good.
Endless acoustic repetitions of a single Oasis track had ruined everything.
The owl and the pussycat were never the same after that.
We should feel sorry for them.
Models posing in Alphonse Mucha’s studio, Rue Du Val de Grâce, Paris.
Zoe Saldana: Sci-Fi Queen!
French photographer and digital retoucher Laure Fauvel has turned the tables on things that go bump in the night in this photo series ‘Terreurs’. Instead of having the children hiding, he has depicted them as strong and brave with a sword, pop gun or fairy wand drawn and the monsters and creatures cowering in fear.
"PALESTINIAN GIRL, YOUNGEST DOCTOR IN THE WORLD"
"When someone enrols in the medicine school that one of the longest schooling required profession, by the time they finish school they will be around 30-or at least on their late 20s. But not for this girl; Eqbal Asa’d is a Palestinian Muslim woman that started the Medicine school when she was just 14 years old, ‘myhijab.info’ reports. Asa’d got her Bachelor degree in Medicine with Honors and was set by the Guinness World Records as the youngest doctor in the World, according to the report. She has been signed to go to Ohio, U.S to continue her education even further and become a Pediatrician." - Source
YOU GUYS SHE IS THE YOUNGEST DOCTOR IN THE WORLD. SHE IS A FEMALE, A MUSLIM AND A MINORITY. AND SHE IS THE YOUNGEST DOCTOR IN THE WORLD.
WHY ARE WE NOT HEARING MORE ABOUT HER?
I got so much crap when I cut my hair the second time. All I heard was, “you have such beautiful hair why did you cut it?” When my hair got long enough I got loc extensions. I heard nothing but praise. “Now you look like a woman.” “Don’t ever cut your hair again, you look so much better.” Until I went home and my grandparents gave me crap for having locs.
I am not my hair. And no matter how I choose to style it, I look beautiful. My hair and what I choose to do with it does not define me nor does it concern you. And no matter how I wear it I look divine because of who I am, not what is on my head.
Mel wearing my latest flower crown and beautiful lace from Deja Vintage Boutique.
Spencer Finch - 366, Emily Dickinson’s Miraculous Year (2009)
This work is based on Emily Dickinson in 1862, when she wrote 366 poems in 365 days. It is a real-time memorial to that year, which burns for exactly one year. The sculpture is comprised of 366 individual candles arranged in a linear sequence, each of which burns for 24 hours. The colour of each candle matches a colour mentioned in the corresponding poem. For the poems in which no colour is mentioned, the candles are made out of natural paraffin.