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“Through the Ages”

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“Death blowing bubbles,” 18th century. The bubbles symbolize life’s fragility. This plaster work appears on the ceiling of Holy Grave Chapel in Michaelsberg Abbey, Bamberg, Germany. (+)

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I just realized I’ve survived everything I’ve ever encountered in life. I have a 100% survival rate. I’m fucking nailing it.

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aight fuckers I’m doing it I’m spending a full $4 to watch the first lotr movie, for the first time

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Ada Limón, “To Be Made Whole”, On Being with Krista Tippett

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To ripen.

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Leila Chatti, from “Tea”

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New York City ballet production of Midsummer Nights Dream

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EXCUSE ME THERE IS A PLANT THAT CAN MIMIC FAKE PLANTS?????

IT'S CALLED A BOQUILA TRIOFOLIOLATA AND IT'S FUCKING WITH MY BRAIN

IT APPARENTLY CAN MIMIC OTHER PLANTS AND AT FIRST I WAS LIKE "oh cool man it must take it's genetic code and copy it or feel the roots or something like that!! :3"

AND THEN I READ AN ARTICLE ON IT AND THESE FUCKING PARAGRAPHS HIT ME LIKE A BUS

LIKE READ THIS SHIT

WHAT THE FUCK MOTHER NATURE

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I just reada really good fic but halfway through I realized "oh shit this is really familiar.... didn't I write something like this once?" And as I kept reading I kept predicting what happened next and the further I went the more convinced I was that they'd ripped off my story-

like, copied the ENTIRE plot and re-written it, just better than I had? The characters were more fleshed-out than mine were, and the POV was more interesting, and the pace made more sense- but it was MY STORY?

So close to the end I was like "holy shit.. do I message them? Ask if my story inspired theirs? Should I be angry? Flattered?" Cause their tags and description didn't mention me AT ALL, which, sure, it's fanfiction to begin with, but if you're using my work than at least credit me as inspo, right? Just to be courteous?

But I get to the end of the final chapter, and it's not finished, and I'm kind of disappointed cause I never finished my story and I was really immersed in their version now and had been looking forwards to seeing how they tied up my loose ends- so I scroll to the bottom to leave a comment, and.

It's MY URL.

IT WAS MY STORY THE WHOLE TIME.

THE ONE *I WROTE*.

In *2013*.

And FORGOT ABOUT

BECAUSE I WAS SO INSECURE ABOUT MY SLOPPY, SHALLOW, AMETEUR WRITING

And I'm just sitting here now staring into space thinking about every shitty story I've ever written now like

IT WAS ALL GOOD?

IT WAS GOOD THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME??

I'M A GOOD WRITER?????

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idk i think the only responsibility at the moment i should have is to acknowledge and admire every tree i see with its changing leaves

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copper my beloved

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"While I was trying to photograph the Northern Lights in the wee hours of the morning, my cat decided to photobomb the picture. Since I had the camera’s shutter speed maxed out, it ended up leaving a sort of ghostly image of my cat in the photo."

Photographer: Kristie Kohn

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If you're a writer you're supposed to write a lot of bullshit. It's part of the gig. You have to write a lot of absolute garbage in order to get to the good bits. Every once in a while you'll be like "Oh, I wish I hadn't wasted all that time writing bullshit," but that's dumb. That's exactly the same as an Olympic runner being like "Oh, I wish I hadn't wasted all that time running all those practice laps"

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Sometimes I’m overwhelmed with the insatiable desire to learn. To know astronomy and geography and language and architecture; to recognize each constellation, planet, and star; to speak and understand all languages, be able to decipher ancient Greek and Latin text; to grow my understanding of how the human body works; study the differences and similarities of each religion; recognize the use for each herb and seed and sapling.

I want to better myself, not for fame or recognition or power. I just want to understand. 

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A Violin Concerto, 1898 by John Gulich (English, 1864–1890)