This Girl Can Write


The Texas GOP has officially endorsed reparative gay therapy. Click here for more from The Daily Show.

(via recall-all-republicans)


Wow, imagine that.


Wow, imagine that.

(via recall-all-republicans)

I am interested in language because it wounds or seduces me.

—Roland Barthes, The Pleasure of the Text (via wordsnquotes)

(via musichappie)

How beautiful to find a heart that loves you, without asking you for anything, but to be okay.

—Gibran Khalil Gibran  (via sorakeem)

(Source: nizariat, via villegasbobby)

Did you know, you can quit your job, you can leave university? You aren’t legally required to have a degree, it’s a social pressure and expectation, not the law, and no one is holding a gun to your head. You can sell your house, you can give up your apartment, you can even sell your vehicle, and your things that are mostly unnecessary. You can see the world on a minimum wage salary, despite the persisting myth, you do not need a high paying job. You can leave your friends (if they’re true friends they’ll forgive you, and you’ll still be friends) and make new ones on the road. You can leave your family. You can depart from your hometown, your country, your culture, and everything you know. You can sacrifice. You can give up your $5.00 a cup morning coffee, you can give up air conditioning, frequent consumption of new products. You can give up eating out at restaurants and prepare affordable meals at home, and eat the leftovers too, instead of throwing them away. You can give up cable TV, Internet even. This list is endless. You can sacrifice climbing up in the hierarchy of careers. You can buck tradition and others’ expectations of you. You can triumph over your fears, by conquering your mind. You can take risks. And most of all, you can travel. You just don’t want it enough. You want a degree or a well-paying job or to stay in your comfort zone more. This is fine, if it’s what your heart desires most, but please don’t envy me and tell me you can’t travel. You’re not in a famine, in a desert, in a third world country, with five malnourished children to feed. You probably live in a first world country. You have a roof over your head, and food on your plate. You probably own luxuries like a cellphone and a computer. You can afford the $3.00 a night guest houses of India, the $0.10 fresh baked breakfasts of Morocco, because if you can afford to live in a first world country, you can certainly afford to travel in third world countries, you can probably even afford to travel in a first world country. So please say to me, “I want to travel, but other things are more important to me and I’m putting them first”, not, “I’m dying to travel, but I can’t”, because I have yet to have someone say they can’t, who truly can’t. You can, however, only live once, and for me, the enrichment of the soul that comes from seeing the world is worth more than a degree that could bring me in a bigger paycheck, or material wealth, or pleasing society. Of course, you must choose for yourself, follow your heart’s truest desires, but know that you can travel, you’re only making excuses for why you can’t. And if it makes any difference, I have never met anyone who has quit their job, left school, given up their life at home, to see the world, and regretted it. None. Only people who have grown old and regretted never traveling, who have regretted focusing too much on money and superficial success, who have realized too late that there is so much more to living than this.
Do not read, as children do, to amuse yourself, or like the ambitious, for the purpose of instruction. No, read in order to live.

—Gustave Flaubert (via observando)

I say read for every purpose.

(via theravenbunnyswolfden)

(via theravenbunnyswolfden)


I’ve been itching to share this for a while now. My last project was Cinderella, and since there’s already one version of Cinderella for Far Faria, I decided to do a Filipino version version just to mix it up. 

You can download the app to read it here! 

(via retrofires)


A multitude of butterflies and their beautiful wings under the microscope. 


(via retrofires)

Battle Scrapes

My elbow may look horrible but I’m fiercely proud of my battle scrape. Both knees also have shiny red scrape-bruises but they aren’t as bad as my elbow. I’m about a month into playing on a dodgeball league and last night I gave it my all. 110%. I discovered that when I push myself hard and believe in myself I’m actually pretty good at this sport. I won my first stand-off last night and was instrumental in helping my team win a couple of games. Best of all is playing on a team with everyone else who plays just as hard. During the day we’re doctors, teachers, graphic designers, businesspeople and artists but on one night every week we meet up in workout clothes and play like kids. Celebrating at the bar afterward is equally fun and cements the camaraderie we build on the court. I’ve never done anything like this before and it’s the best decision I’ve made this year. My wounds may not look elegant but the confidence and pride I’ve built from this experience are worth every scrape and bruise.

How many times have you fallen in love? Is it always better than the last time?

asked by Anonymous


Love is supposedly getting wrapped up in someone else, but it’s really tripping into a labyrinth of yourself. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to step into a room that brings you joy and kindness and strength with indoor waterfalls and couches like clouds, to find the switch that lights up every corner in the house. Sometimes you explore long, twisted hallways with compelling arches that lead you deeper and deeper into yourself ‘til you’ve lost your way and all you can do is run your hands along the wall hoping to find a door to let you out. Some people find the light switch first. Some people never do. But when we step into someone else, we inevitably get lost in a part of ourselves we never have before. 

It’s the lessons you take from each trip that can make the following better, or worse. There are parts of the house I don’t care to see again and parts I never would have found without getting lost with someone else. Insecurities that needed to be aired out. Passions that needed to be opened. Our relationships with people are what help us build and discover our home. And I am happy to live in the house I’ve made forever, but I dream of the rooms someone else might unlock, that someone still could.

But it’s still your house. And the quality of the life you build in it is determined by how well you take care of it, by the effort you put into it.

Every time I’ve fallen in love, it’s not that the love has been better, it’s that I have been better able to love. It’s that I’ve torn down walls and lit up dark hallways and aired out old shame and cleaned out old losses. It’s that I’ve made space for someone and I’ve made it beautiful and I’ve made this house a home that I love and I cherish.

The hardest part for me is when I love the way the light comes in and the way floorboards creak and the way the kitchen is just a little too small and then I let someone in who says, “this house is so wonderful, this house is so perfect, though the light comes in early, and the floorboards are loud, and that kitchen is really too small.” Because then the things that I love turn from quirks into flaws and I find myself tweaking the things I found charming because someone thought the rest was good enough to stay.

This is your home to live in forever and by god, you better make it good. But make it good for you and when buyer after buyer says it’ll do, so no thanks, because you’re looking for someone who thinks it’s beautiful too.

That’s how love gets better. When you love yourself better.