#ethnichic

[academy-x]

Adrien Zenz is a born again Christian who believes he's on a mission from God to destroy China and has been more or less the only primary source in the genocide: https://www.wsj.com/articles/the-german-data-diver-who-exposed-chinas-muslim-crackdown-11558431005

Also, take a look at the board of directors of that humans rights group report you leaked. The chairman is literally a US government official lmao.

thanks i appreciate it. seems suspicious that hes the only guy who was able to find those numbers. its really fucked up that zenz is only investigating it to destroy china, but im hesitant to believe that he made everything up out of thin air and that you arent discriminated against as an ethnich minority in china, i gotta read some more to figure out how he/others have twisted the facts, what is actually going on, great fucking news if its less severe than i first assumed

[massimonanni]

Massimo Nanni S/S 2021 @massimo_nanni_ #massimonannifashionbrands #massimonannicreativedirector #ss2021 #atelier #summerflowers #summervibes #lacedress #lacetop #flowerdresses #flowersinspiration #ethnicjewellery #ethnichic #whitelace #luxurycollection #luxuryshopping #instagramers #instacool #instacouture #iloveflowers #musthave #printedsilk #topsilk #madeinitaly #handmadefashion #italianstyle https://www.instagram.com/p/CRWd_PCnXIS/?utm_medium=tumblr

[aflebijoux]

Coming soon!! Save the date! Paris - December 21st -22nd, 2019! We have Beautiful surprises for you! #aflebijoux #princessnicky #ethnichic #paris #privatesale https://www.instagram.com/p/B5aMBcyHgeB/?igshid=dzt7m6c90pr3

[ibrahimozkan]

TÜMATA'DA Son iftar buluşması Baksı Dansı ve Arşetipikal Hareketler eşliğinde Orta Asya Türk Müziği eserleri çaldık. #tümata #TÜMATA #TÜRKÜ #tasavvuf #müziği #iftar #baksı #dansı #zikir #semah #terapi #dance #music #ethnich #müzik (Hagia Sophia Museum) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByBT-VEhHiS/?igshid=1nt27dk0dr1qo

[alliswell21]

Password

A fic for @historywriter2007, @lovely-tothe-bone, @mega-aulover and @arbyeatscheesebuns from a Prompt about a professor on tinder... hope this one is to your liking!

————————

I come into my bedroom to find Johanna lounging on my bed, messing with my cellphone, like she owns the place.

“What are you doing?” I demand feeling all my nerve ends spike in warning.

“Nothing,” She drawls nonchalantly, looking up from my phone with those brown, wide set eyes of hers, too innocently to be true.

“What are you doing with my phone? And how the hell did you figure out my password?” I grunt.

Johanna flips the phone next to her on the mattress, stretching like a cat, and then sits up taking her sweet time.

“You know, Brainless, if you use the same password for everything, from your bank account, to your Facebook, and also your email, and the password is just your sister’s birth date and initials everytime, you deserve to get hacked.” She scoots off the bed lazily, “I’m done anyways. I took the liberty to check on your tinder for you. You’re welcome!” She smiles devilishly, sauntering out of the bedroom.

“Tinder?” I ask in confusion, diving for my phone to check it myself, because I’ve never signed up for a Tinder account. That’s just… not me!

A couple of swipes, and sure enough, there’s an icon for an app I would never download myself.

“How the…?! Fudge! Now I really need to change all my passwords! Lousy Johanna!” I mutter angrily under my breath.

“Jo! What did you do?” I run after her waving my phone. “Why did you signed me up for a tinder account?”

She rolls her eyes while raspberrying obnoxiously. “Katniss, we had this discussion Saturday, after Madge’s party. I said you needed to get laid before your lady parts became dusty, and you said it was cool when I suggested tinder.”

“I was drunk!” I screech.

“No you weren’t! You only had two beers.”

“Plus all the shots of tequila you practically force fed me!” I groan. “Johanna, I don’t want a tinder!”

“Kitty cat, it’s done. Plus there are some hotties there I already took the liberty to swipe right for you. Now you’ll be on their feeds and if the swipe right too when they see your profile picture, then you’ll be matched and you’ll be on your way to orgasmic bliss!”

I scrub my face with both hands, questioning my life choices, especially the one where I actually begged Johanna Mason to move in after my last roommate left the apartment.

Finally I say with resolve, “I’m deleting the account. I don’t want it and definitely don’t need it!”

“After all the time I devoted to create the perfect profile that made you look like a total bombshell?!” She’s glaring at me. “Do you know how many guys are showing in your feed? That means they’re interested in you, Brainless! Give it a try and live a little for once! YOLO and all that jazz, you’re no spring chicken anymore, you know.”

“Can it, Jo! I don’t have time for this!” I say hunching all over, “Thank you for the effort, but... this isn’t for me, Jo.” I say a little defeated.

“You’ll be fine, brainless, stop being so dramatic.” Johanna sighs behind me before I shut myself into my room.

My love life is nonexistent, just as I want it to be… at least while I’m sober it seems.

I flop on the bed, cell phone in hand, ready to delete the tinder app when I see there’s a message. Out of curiosity, I tap the icon and almost flat line at the name displayed in the header.

I scream. Loudly. I scream Johanna’s name like is a cuss word and stomp menacingly down the hall to scream at her some more, but I’m freaking out with anxiety to the point that my anger gets buried under other unpleasant emotions that make my stomach roil.

“What’s wrong?!” My roommate asks jumping off the couch, her eyes wide with concern. “Did something happened?”

I start stuttering and flailing my arms like a person drowning in the middle of the sea; it takes a shake from Jo to finally sputter, “My teacher!” I stare at Johanna with wild eyes and finally feel the anger return. “You matched me with my freaking Teacher!”

It feels good to lash out in complete control of my feelings.

“I did not!” Johanna shoves me away rolling her eyes and going back to plant her butt in front of the TV. “I wouldn’t have match you with some old fart looking for young tail on tinder.” She says dismissively. “I have my limits.”

I groan in aggravation. “He’s not an old fart. He’s only a few years older than me. He teaches my stupid Social Scienses class... the one I told you about.”

Johanna’s interest piqued, “Go on…” she prompts.

I sink into the couch next to her, afraid of my phone.

Getting my college education has been my very own personal Odyssey. What should have taken a normal student four years, has taken me seven, since at first I had to work full time to help my mother support our little family, while my younger sister finished high school. I would’ve kept supporting us if my sister hadn’t insisted I got into higher education as well; so at the age of twenty six and a half, a diploma is within my grasp. I don’t mind doing grunt work, but my sister was right to push me for more. I’m ready to move on to a higher bracket in the salary ladder, and to do that, I’m required a college degree.

I neglected the needed Social Science credits for my degree until this year. I had to scramble to get all my credits for graduation, and I needed a Social Science class to round up the requirements.

I decided to go with American Ethnich Studies because the odds were in my favor, since it’s a very sought after course and a spot magically opened while I was picking my schedule and was able to snatch it up. The class is not really an elective, but it fills pretty quickly, and for good reason: the curriculum is fresh, the material is interesting, the level of compelling information is outstanding, and I also rationalize that since my late dad was from Native American descent, it would be a great opportunity to acquire academic knowledge of my heritage and all the other cultures that make America a rich tapestry that go beyond race, gender and tradition.

But the man teaching the class is a whole other compelling reason on its own… not that I was aware of that tiny detail until I set foot in the classroom.

“So, are you gonna show me this professor that’s got your panties all twisted and damped?” Jo challenges.

I only glare at her for a second, before slumping my shoulders. “He messaged me.”

“What did he say?” Johanna is now on her knees on the couch, facing me, the mischief glinting in her eyes annoys me to no end.

“I haven’t read it yet…” I sigh staring at my phone like it’s a poisonous snake.

“Why not?” Jo demands.

“Because it’s my freaking teacher, Johanna!” I say at the edge of a panic attack.

American Ethnic Studies is the class I’ve done worse in my whole schooling career. I blame it all solely on the professor, Mr. Mellark, who’s name is flashing on my screen.

I don’t mean Mr. Mellark is a bad or even mediocre teacher; on the contrary, he is in fact very knowledgeable, kind, open, friendly and approachable. But the man is ridiculously handsome; his voice is deep and smooth like warm dark melted chocolate, his eyes are as blue and deep as a summer sky under an unruly mop of ashy blonde waves, and his smile nearly made my heart stop the first time I saw it aimed at me. Then is the rest of his body: ass round and firm scrumptiously encased in pressed slacks, and shoulders so broad I wonder how can he find the right size shirts to cover them?

In other words, professor Mellark is what I believe a modern Greek god would look like nowadays, which brings me back to my original statement, I never took into account how the looks of a man could affect my concentration in class, resulting in the awful marks I’ve been getting in the course all year.

Johanna snatches my phone from my fingers, and I scramble after her to retrieve it.

“Johanna!”

“Hush, Brainless!”

She sticks out her hand to stop me from grabbing back my phone. I see with horror she’s already unlocked the screen.

“Give it back!” I demand stretching beyond Johanna’s shoulder and finally wrapping my hand around my device. “Don’t read my message! It’s private!” I snap.

“Oh please! I already told you, nothing is private until you change passwords. Now… read the thing! Stop being a coward!”

I glare at Jo for a second, but ultimately turn my eyes to the small bubble with a great deal of anxiety, because now there’s not just one, but two messages from Professor Mellark waiting for me. I steel myself and finally let the words take meaning as I read.

Peeta Mellark: Hey Katniss, I saw you in my feed and grappled with the questionable propriety of my choices: a) acknowledge you, saying hello since we got matched and passing for creepy; or b) ignoring you by swiping left and passing for rude.

I guess I managed to answer that question already.

Peeta Mellark: I’ll take this slightly awkward opportunity to tell you your final grade: B

I say the words in a monotone, not really knowing how to feel. I want to laugh and bawl at the same time. This man is so witty even in writing.

“Well? Are you going to answer or what?” Johanna presses bluntly, practically breathing down my nape.

I push her away a fraction, and mutter, “Shut up, Jo. I’m thinking!”

“You gotta answer! Stop thinking!”

“What am I supposed to say back?” I ask her harshly.

“Tell him you can handle the D if he swaps that B for an A!” Johanna wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, as if I would ever say something as crass or forward.

“Are you crazy?! I can tell my teacher that!” I balk.

“You gotta say something!”

“I know!” I sigh and start typing, carefully choosing my words.

Katniss Everdeen: Hello, Mr. Mellark. I would have never thought you rude for swiping left. I completely understand. Believe me, tinder wasn’t my idea, but my best friend decided I needed to socialize more… so… here we are...

I cringe.

Katniss Everdeen: Thanks for the grades. I’m relieved to know I’ve passed the class, it means I’m officially a graduate! No longer a student!

For the first time I let the news sink in and bask in the knowledge that I am graduating and can’t help but smile and say a tiny “Yay, Me!” Under my breath at the same time I’m pumping the air with my fist.

Johanna shoves me aside to read what I wrote, and then makes a disgruntled noise. “I thought something sexy was finally said when you reacted so excited.”

I’m about to tell her that getting my diploma is exciting but a chime goes off, announcing another message.

We both peer down at the phone and I gasp. Mr. Mellark has responded, and there’s a smiley face and a question; Johanna is yakking about none stop next to me, trying to tell me what to say or how to phrase it, but I’m speechless and elated because the few lines my ex-professor has written are so unexpected but so welcome, is not even funny.

Peeta Mellark: Congratulations! I knew you could do it!

Peeta Mellark: By the way, call me Peeta, I’m not your professor anymore, and given the circumstances, I believe is kosher to be informal… friendlier.

Peeta Mellark: Also, I was wondering, since we got matched up and everything, would you like to have a cup of coffee or tea with me… since you're officially not my student anymore?

My fingers fly over the screen typing my answer in a flash. I don’t even have to think what I want to say.

Katniss Everdeen: Make it a cup of hot chocolate, and you have a date… Peeta.

His answer is practically immediate.

Peeta Mellark: It's a date then! Meet me tomorrow at my brother’s bakery? Corner of Twelve and Capitol? They have the best cheese buns to pair with that hot chocolate… and I’ll get the privilege to show you off as my date. My brother set me up on tinder too.

I’m not sure if the smile I’m wearing is for what I’m reading, or because I’m now free to fantasize about my teacher, but when I see the rest of his reply, I know this would’ve happened anyway some way or another...

Peeta Mellark: Full disclosure at the risk of still sounding creepy, but I think it was lucky our profiles got matched together. It gave me the chance to ask you out, and I sorely wanted to approach you, but didn’t know how. This is the perfect excuse. Thank you for swiping right.

“See, Brainless?! You’re welcome!” Says Johanna breaking the nice little bubble I was in.

I roll my eyes not even trying to stop my smile, “Fine, Johanna, thank you for swiping right… now get out of my phone, and don’t even try to crack the new password! Also, I’m definitely deleting Tinder!”

[indiatrendzs]

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[mencecle]

Cute masks from Panama @maisonsarahlavoine #ethnichic #homedecor #panama #lenombril #lenombrilparis

[life-in-techni-colour-blog1]

My survival tactic

Now that I am more aware of my behaving, actions and reactions, I have analysed what my primary survival tactic is. By survival tactic I mean, that or that (those) strategies that have helped me survive through my life.

According to some literature, it is said that we learn this (these) survival tactic(s) when we are kids.

 So, how has Alejandro survived and reached to this point?

Besides hard work and lots of help from different people, I find in my personal and professional life, a common denominator: I am a people pleaser.

 As far as I can remember, I was always the kind of perfect son, schooler, student, friend, employee. I rarely said (say) NO to things, even if I wanted (want) to.

Until now, I thought that this desire of pleasing people was a cultural heritage. It is widely consider that we, Latinos, always try their best to be nice and make others feel comfortable around us.

And I was no exception to this understanding. I have tried hard to make people feel comfortable around me. Often I am considered as a very nice and polite person. This with a cost.

The cost is that I would usually put others’ needs before mine. Because it was important for me to please them.

 Now I understand that this behaviour is not related to my ethnich heritage, but to the way I learnt that I could get things in life: I learnt as a kid that, if I pleased others, I would be rewarded with compliments and love. Do not we are in pursuit of love?

 As a single mother, my mom tried her best to balance private and working life.

She would spend eight hours, six days a week, working in a production line; producing some plastic containers used in the pharmaceutical industry.

She did not like her job. In fact, she kind of hated it. Nevertheless, she spend more than twenty five years there, because she needed the money to rise two kids.

 My parents got divorced from my mom when I was a baby. After the separation, they did not have a good relation and I saw him sporadically, but not often enough to develop any kind of emotional attachment.

The fact that my father did not provide any child allowance did not help the family’s precarious financial situation. Besides, my mom never wanted his financial support. I guess she did not realise that he had indeed a legal obligation. Or maybe she did not want him around us and , therefore, never asked for any support.

 In the absence of a father, my mom’s family took his role – somehow.

I would spend my afternoons and Saturdays with my Grandma, whilst my mother was working.

My uncles and aunties would take me with them to the zoo, park, cinema. They would treat me as their youngest brother.

I cannot really say that I missed my dad as a child. In fact, in his absence, I had ten family members who would love me and care about me unconditionally.

It was, however, this special bound between me and my mom’s family, that would model my strongest and deepest survival tactic.

 Partially (financial) dependent from her family, my mom tried very hard to please them and avoid confrontation.

It happened, sometimes, that my mom did not agree with a given decision made “by the family”, but she would need to accept because there was no other option. Well, there are always options, but given her reality, she did not see the possibility to challenge the status-quo.

In defence of my mom’s family: I am sure they made every single decision based upon belief that they were “wiser” to decide.

 So, I grew up seeing that my mom would accept everything that was imposed to her, because she was subjected to financial support.

 I guess it was difficult to her to always say YES, although she did not want to. In fact, in my new reality, I consider freedom as the highest good we have in life: being able to decide based on information, our beliefs, our interests…

 It took me, however, 34 years of my life to understand why I try so hard to make others happy.

Still work in progress, but at least now I know, for the very first time, that I am loved even if I displease someone. Because the love is not created on the outside, but in the inside.

[evimstildosemelikkumas-blog]

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[bandabags]

Scientists have discovered that wearing BRIGHT COLORS can CHANGE YOUR MOOD! Well, I hope your day is as colorful as this Sari Cutesy! Comment 🌞 if you want this to brighten up your day! :) http://bit.ly/2l2aCli

[hestyghassany-blog1]

Sharing in Diversity

Simply, everyone is different. We different on everything, like how we think, how we communicate, how we are life and the more complex are what our religions, ethnichs, and manymore which influence on our identity. Maybe, we have in same part of something, but i believe it just an out layer, because our each prespective on the same thing as deep may different.

   We have our own way to life and believes. Everyone wants get their right as fully. So, it might we want to be well know as good as our identity. The case is whenever some people try to persuade others, mean they think they are the best one. Then they try to invite someone on their side. Actually it will be very dangerous while there are many group being like that. Every group tries to persuade everyone. That’s why war happened and peace never exist.   Guys, we are not allow to intervane our understanding. Let them keep looking for their own life. Their life is their right. Let’s life in peace with our own right choice.

Every person need other in life. We can not survive without help from others.  Whatever your ethnic or religion, it does not matter to help each other, because we are same as human being. A good men never look from his identity. Every religion, techer, subject in school, or anything never teach us to be evil human. So, it means whatever their identity, it does not matter to meke collaboration. But, remember there are also some parts that we have keep to be our own privacy, like we can not make collaboration between some religion. Yeah, actually, we know what we put in coopertion and we can not put it together. Never put our identity to consider on make better world.

[aflebijoux]

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[juliensegard]

Ethnic chic today. Paul Bert stand 157 allée 3. #ethnichic #sixtiesaddict #1960 #forsale

[indiatrendzs]

#fashionista #fallfashion #bohemian #gypsyskirt #ethnicskirt #ethnichic (at Mogulinterior)

[sincerelyvandy]

#Ethnichic 👗 : @nakimuliinc #fashionstyle #streetstyle #frenchblogger #shoesaddict #blogmodeandlifestyle #shoppingaddict #sincerelyvandy

[evimstildosemelikkumas-blog]

Etnik Desenli Dijital Baskılı Döşemelik ve Perdelik Kumaşlar www.evimstil.com da 5 senedir www.evimstil.com dan tüm dünyaya dekoratif ve döşemelik kumaş satışı yapmaktayız En özel stil kumaşlar burada #kumas #ethnich #ethnicupholsteryfabric #stile #interriordesign #upholsteryfabric #sofafabric #englandfabric #germanyfabric #design #projects #tasarim #dijital #desenlikumas