this must be what tumblr looks like irl

this is exactly what tumblr looks like irl

(via the-absolute-funniest-posts)

Source: i-justreally-like-cats-okay
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Reasons I love Zooey Deschanel:


"It’s not about women acting like men. It’s about women acting like women and being successful." [x]

I think I agree…although I don’t think I’ll ever accept the term “girly” as empowering.

Source: adumbscotts
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Re-blogging because textbooks shouldn’t cost the same amount as a month of rent. Also because this professor sounds pretty terrible.







This is a summary of college only using two pictures; expensive as hell.

That’s my Sociology “book”. In fact what it is is a piece of paper with codes written on it to allow me to access an electronic version of a book. I was told by my professor that I could not buy any other paperback version, or use another code, so I was left with no option other than buying a piece of paper for over $200. Best part about all this is my professor wrote the books; there’s something hilariously sadistic about that. So I pretty much doled out $200 for a current edition of an online textbook that is no different than an older, paperback edition of the same book for $5; yeah, I checked. My mistake for listening to my professor.

This is why we download. 

Spreading this shit like nutella because goddamn textbooks are so expensive. 

not necessarily art related but as someone who couldn’t afford their textbooks this semester this is a godsend

REBLOGGING because after a little digging, I found my $200 textbook for free in PDF form.

friendly reminder that this exists since I know we’re all going back to college soon

(via notyoureverydaycliche)

Source: hal-ya


When I was seventeen and preparing to leave for university, my mother’s only brother saw fit to give me some advice.
“Just don’t be an idiot, kid,” he told me, “and don’t ever forget that boys and girls can never just be friends.”
I laughed and answered, “I’m not too worried. And I don’t really think all guys are like that.”

When I was eighteen and the third annual advent of the common cold was rolling through residence like a pestilent fog, a friend texted me asking if there was anything he could do to help.
I told him that if he could bring me up some vitamin water that would be great, if it wasn’t too much trouble.
That semester I learned that human skin cells replace themselves every three to five weeks. I hoped that in a month, maybe I’d stop feeling the echoes of his touch; maybe my new skin would feel cleaner.
It didn’t. But I stood by what I said. Not all guys are like that.

When I was nineteen and my roommate decided the only way to celebrate the end of midterms was to get wasted at a club, I humoured her.
Four drinks, countless leers and five hands up my skirt later, I informed her I was ready to leave.
“I get why you’re upset,” she told me on the walk home, “but you have to tolerate that sort of thing if you want to have any fun. And really, not all guys are like that.”

(Age nineteen also saw me propositioned for casual sex by no fewer than three different male friends, and while I still believe that guys and girls can indeed be just friends, I was beginning to see my uncle’s point.)

When I was twenty and a stranger that started chatting to me in my usual cafe asked if he could walk with me (since we were going the same way and all), I accepted.
Before we’d even made it three blocks he was pulling me into an alleyway and trying to put his hands up my shirt. “You were staring,” he laughed when I asked what the fuck he was doing (I wasn’t), “I’m just taking pity.”
But not all guys are like that.

I am twenty one and a few days ago a friend and I were walking down the street. A car drove by with the windows down, and a young man stuck his head out and whistled as they passed. I ignored it, carrying on with the conversation.
My friend did not. “Did you know those people?” He asked.
“Not at all,” I answered.
Later when we sat down to eat he got this thoughtful look on his face. When I asked what was wrong he said, “You know not all guys do that kind of thing, right? We’re not all like that.”
As if he were imparting some great profound truth I’d never realized before. My entire life has been turned around, because now I’ve been enlightened: not all guys are like that.

No. Not all guys are. But enough are. Enough that I am uncomfortable when a man sits next to me on the bus. Enough that I will cross to the other side of the street if I see a pack of guys coming my way. Enough that even fleeting eye contact with a male stranger makes my insides crawl with unease. Enough that I cannot feel safe alone in a room with some of my male friends, even ones I’ve known for years. Enough that when I go out past dark for chips or milk or toilet paper, I carry a knife, I wear a coat that obscures my figure, I mimic a man’s gait. Enough that three years later I keep the story of that day to myself, when the only thing that saved me from being raped was a right hook to the jaw and a threat to scream in a crowded dorm, because I know what the response will be.

I live my life with the everburning anxiety that someone is going to put their hands on me regardless of my feelings on the matter, and I’m not going to be able to stop them. I live with the knowledge that statistically one in three women have experienced a sexual assault, but even a number like that can’t be trusted when we are harassed into silence. I live with the learned instinct, the ingrained compulsion to keep my mouth shut to jeers and catcalls, to swallow my anger at lewd suggestions and crude gestures, to put up my walls against insults and threats. I live in an environment that necessitates armouring myself against it just to get through a day peacefully, and I now view that as normal. I have adapted to extreme circumstances and am told to treat it as baseline. I carry this fear close to my heart, rooted into my bones, and I do so to keep myself unharmed.

So you can tell me that not all guys are like that, and you’d even be right, but that isn’t the issue anymore. My problem is not that I’m unaware of the fact that some guys are perfectly civil, decent, kind—my problem is simply this:

In a world where this cynical overcaution is the only thing that ensures my safety, I’m no longer willing to take the risk.



r.d. (via lovinsit)


(via sanityscraps)

Source: elferinge
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Starting to get excited for #Divergent. :)


Shailene Woodley knows what it means to be Divergent. What makes you different?

Source: the-divergentseries
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I like this. A lot.


Hey me and Mad collaborated on a render! I’m thinking about starting to sell prints, would anyone be interested?

Source: gforgannon

It’s always important to keep Silver around.Silver is magical, after all *~*<3*~*



It’s always important to keep Silver around.

Silver is magical, after all *~*<3*~*

(via ronnieronlinn)

Source: wolfmonsters



Which brings me to my next finding, people love to hate. 

Source: shitmystudentswrite





Silver Age crack is sometimes pretty damn cute.
Source: tompeyer

Aw, one of my good friend’s cousins is giving a tour of NYC! She is sweet, even when giving press for the store she works in, and for NYC.


Tour Guide


Billy Reid’s Tanya Sweet and her red umbrella braved the snow last week to take the Journal on a tour of her beloved home, New York City. Photos by Henry Busby

Following reports from Atlanta and Dallas, the third installment of the Journal’s Tour Guide series features the local must-sees of Billy Reid New York’s Tanya Sweet. With a cheery red umbrella in tow, she braved snowy weather last week to take photographer Henry Busby on a whirlwind tour of “her” Manhattan - where, not coincidentally, is where Billy will debut his fall/winter 2014 collection on Monday night during New York Fashion Week. Check the Journal next week for exclusive behind-the-scenes coverage.

I moved to New York City when I was a teenager, about a week into a garbage strike in the dead of summer. Needless to say, I wanted to go back to Buffalo.

In a few weeks, though, I had begun to adapt to rhythms of this odd, busy place, and a kind of magic took over. One night at dusk, as I was sailing up the West Side Highway in a cab with my arm out the window, I suddenly knew I was home.

New York is almost like a person to me: a vibrant, intelligent relative whom I miss if I’m away from her for too long. The list of places I love and people I’ve met is too extensive to go into here, but my favorite places are another thing altogether. I’m a tour guide at heart. Ask me and I’ll tell you where to find anything from the best button shop (Tender Buttons) to the closest oasis (I just discovered the waterfalls in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park).

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Source: billyreid
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The snow is sparkling like a million little suns.
Frozen/Tangled Parallels

(via pancami)

Source: kpfun
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This movie though. <3


film meme» ten films [4/10]: After The Thin Man (1936)

Nick Charles: Who was that?

Nora Charles: Oh, you wouldn’t know them, darling. They’re respectable.

(via tracylord)

Source: aliciahubermans
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Buffy Summers + being a precious lil dummy 


(via terraisfright)

Source: watcherspet