tyleroakley:

kateypops:

I did that thing tyleroakley suggested of writing something that made me happy each day :)

I LOVE SEEING THIS.

Wait…that’s Niall, NOT Tyler

tyleroakley:

kateypops:

I did that thing tyleroakley suggested of writing something that made me happy each day :)

I LOVE SEEING THIS.

Wait…that’s Niall, NOT Tyler

ugly:

ONE WATERMELON FRESH FROM THE MANURE FIELD YOUR SPOOKYNESS


This is the best thing and I hope you all reblog because Patrick completes my existence and then mother fucking squidward just with this gay ass big melon head like a fucking mushroom penis head

ugly:

ONE WATERMELON FRESH FROM THE MANURE FIELD YOUR SPOOKYNESS

This is the best thing and I hope you all reblog because Patrick completes my existence and then mother fucking squidward just with this gay ass big melon head like a fucking mushroom penis head

(via cadecoole)

ugly:

ONE WATERMELON FRESH FROM THE MANURE FIELD YOUR SPOOKYNESS

ugly:

ONE WATERMELON FRESH FROM THE MANURE FIELD YOUR SPOOKYNESS

(via cadecoole)

Please stop being rude to kids on this site. They work hard every day to get better, and mocking them is not cute or funny. At all. Ever.

ostimusic:

You are totally right. I was trying to make a joke (essentially “you can’t complain about your boring part if you didn’t make first chair”), and it failed miserably. I meant to attach that “first chair” snark joke to the thread I eventually posted - the one where people were ranting about how awful my music was - but I accidentally attached it to the original picture of one of my parts, removing any context for what I was responding to. Not that it would have made it okay.

Of COURSE I was kidding (I wouldn’t write a 4th chair part if I didn’t think it was important!) - but it was mean spirited. I was upset by those “his music is boring and awful” comments, and angry about them, so I made that first chair joke because it was all I could think of in the moment. But when you make a joke when you’re angry, you make a mean joke, not a funny joke, so it’s not surprising that what I wrote was taken badly.  My comment was  not okay, and I’m sorry I made it.

I quickly realized how dickish and insensitive it was, and I tried to edit it to clarify that I was kidding (how could I not have been kidding?!), then I deleted the whole thing, but by that time, the damage was done, as it had already been reblogged all over Tumblr. So now not only am I the composer who writes boring music (admittedly this could be true - not every piece is going to be a gem), I’m the composer who thinks you suck if you aren’t playing first chair (not true at all - have you seen the 2nd bass clarinet part to any of my pieces?!).

I guess there are two lessons here:
1) If you write something nasty on the internet about somebody, that person will likely read it.
2) If you’re upset and try to defend yourself with humor - like I did - you often make it worse and spread new nastiness to people whom you didn’t intend to hurt.

I already knew lesson 1. Consider lesson 2 learned.

humansofnewyork:

“We fled to the Philippines, which was under American occupation at the time. But it wasn’t long before the Japanese took over the islands. We were living in Manila, and when the Japanese occupied the city, they began to teach us to read and write Japanese. When the Americans came to retake the city, they invaded from the north, and the Japanese blew up the bridges and barricaded themselves in the southern part of the city where we lived. Shells were falling all around us, because the Japanese had stationed a gun encampment across from our house. One morning, we decided to make a run for the hospital, so that we could put ourselves under the protection of the Red Cross. Our neighbors were running in front of us, pushing their belongings on a pushcart, when they stepped on a land mine and the whole family was killed. We kept running, but when we got to the main street, there was a checkpoint and we weren’t allowed to cross. So we hid beneath a house, and soon we were discovered by Japanese soldiers. They lined us all up against the wall to be executed. We begged and begged and begged for our lives. They finally allowed my mother and the children to step aside, but they told my father to stay. My mother dropped to her knees and asked the Japanese commander to imagine it was his family. And he finally let all of us go.”

Pls don’t hate

humansofnewyork:

“We fled to the Philippines, which was under American occupation at the time. But it wasn’t long before the Japanese took over the islands. We were living in Manila, and when the Japanese occupied the city, they began to teach us to read and write Japanese. When the Americans came to retake the city, they invaded from the north, and the Japanese blew up the bridges and barricaded themselves in the southern part of the city where we lived. Shells were falling all around us, because the Japanese had stationed a gun encampment across from our house. One morning, we decided to make a run for the hospital, so that we could put ourselves under the protection of the Red Cross. Our neighbors were running in front of us, pushing their belongings on a pushcart, when they stepped on a land mine and the whole family was killed. We kept running, but when we got to the main street, there was a checkpoint and we weren’t allowed to cross. So we hid beneath a house, and soon we were discovered by Japanese soldiers. They lined us all up against the wall to be executed. We begged and begged and begged for our lives. They finally allowed my mother and the children to step aside, but they told my father to stay. My mother dropped to her knees and asked the Japanese commander to imagine it was his family. And he finally let all of us go.”

Pls don’t hate

Katy Perry: I wanna see your peacock-cock-cock-cock-cock
Lady Gaga: I wanna take a ride on your disco stick
Britney Spears: I'm a slave for you, I won't deny it, I'm not trying to hide it.
Ke$ha: Don't be a little bitch with your chit-chat/Just show me where your dick's at.
White Feminists:
Beyonce: Bow down, bitches.
Nicki Minaj: I'm a bad bitch.
Rihanna: Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it.
White Feminists: how dare you, you're holding feminism back, dancing in lingerie isn't sexy or empowering, you're ruining it for all women, you're not a feminist.

sixpenceee:

Sir Nicholas Winton is a humanitarian who organized a rescue operation that saved the lives of 669 Jewish Czechoslovakia children from Nazi death camps, and brought them to the safety of Great Britain between the years 1938-1939.

After the war, his efforts remained unknown. But in 1988, Winton’s wife Grete found the scrapbook from 1939 with the complete list of children’s names and photos. Sir Nicholas Winton is sitting in an audience of Jewish Czechoslovakian people who he saved 50 years before.

WATCH FULL VIDEO HERE

I’m literally crying. No joke. This is beautiful. This is the goal for every humanitarian. Wow.

(via creation-out-of-destruction)

linsdaylohan:

where is their academy award

They learned a new language???

(via troyesivan)

stability:

aresnakesreal:

donatellavevo:

an emotional roller coaster from start to finish

I hate this so much more than anything

a cinematic masterpiece

Wait… Is this directingourvision?

(via troyesivan)

“I looked over and he wasn’t breathing and so I did the Heimlich maneuver on him and a cherry seed popped out”

portraitsofboston:

     “When I was younger, I believed that I was my own person, free to shape my character and do whatever I wanted to do. Recently, though, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m more a composite of my parents, who are so different from each other that I wonder how they could have ever been together. I know them well enough to see their shortcomings. The older I get, the more I realize that the things they struggled with I struggle with now, and have been my whole life—I just never knew it.     “On one hand, it’s a really depressing idea that you are doomed to be your mom and dad. On the other hand, I think that while I’ve inherited those struggles, I’m probably more able to overcome them than my parents were. It’s like a vaccine: it gives you just enough of the virus so your body can resist it. I got their shortcomings, but just enough that I can overcome them if I am determined. Still, it’s a difficult thing to do.”     “Which feeling prevails: hope or inevitability?”     “I tend to be an optimist, so I think that I can overcome my parents’ challenges. But maybe that’s not true. Maybe I’m doomed. Maybe that’s just how the world works: we’re doomed to live our parents’ lives over and over again, from generation to generation.”     “You said they were very different from each other.”     “Yes, my mom was a single parent and always worked but remained poor. My father graduated from Harvard, and he’s been quite successful. Everybody thinks that I’m trying to be like him—I also graduated from Harvard. For most of my life, I’ve wanted to live up to the ideals that my father created, to prove that I have it in me even though I grew up in more modest circumstances. So I chased after certain things, but now I think, ‘What am I doing? These things aren’t even truly valuable.’I realize now that what my mother gave me was much more valuable.     “I’ve only recently—in the past five years or so—had a relationship with my father. I moved here to take care of him when he was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer. That’s how I got to know him: those noble, virtuous qualities that I associated with my father weren’t there, replaced instead by underhanded, manipulative, cowardly characteristics. The more I get to know him, the more I realize that I’m thankful that my mother raised me. He’s one of the worst people I know—I don’t want to be like him at all.     “At the same time, I also wonder how it makes me look to think such things about a man who has accomplished so much.I feel strongly, yet I’m very reluctant to talk about it. My dad is very sensitive, and if this dialogue becomes public I know that he will be hurt to realize that I didn’t blindly worship him. Even though I have my issues with my dad, I still want to protect him.”     “You haven’t spoken very harshly of him—I don’t think that you hate him.”     “Well, to go back to the beginning, I’m a composite, so I can’t hate him without hating myself. In a way, I see myself in him. That’s what makes it so complicated and confusing: I identify with his undesirable aspects. I have to embrace and work on them because they’re in me, too. The same is true of my mom: she was super loving and giving, but she was also a drunk and a drug addict. I play up the love, because that’s desirable and allows me to embrace the idea of her.     “I want to protect my parents because their qualities are a part of me. They are seriously flawed human beings in very different ways, so I have no clear role model to follow: no one to ask for advice, no compass. I feel that I’m at a crossroads, but I don’t know what I should be pursuing. That’s what dominates my life right now: what’s valuable? What’s right? I’ve had this hodgepodge of life, and now I’m confused.”

portraitsofboston:

     “When I was younger, I believed that I was my own person, free to shape my character and do whatever I wanted to do. Recently, though, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’m more a composite of my parents, who are so different from each other that I wonder how they could have ever been together. I know them well enough to see their shortcomings. The older I get, the more I realize that the things they struggled with I struggle with now, and have been my whole life—I just never knew it.
     “On one hand, it’s a really depressing idea that you are doomed to be your mom and dad. On the other hand, I think that while I’ve inherited those struggles, I’m probably more able to overcome them than my parents were. It’s like a vaccine: it gives you just enough of the virus so your body can resist it. I got their shortcomings, but just enough that I can overcome them if I am determined. Still, it’s a difficult thing to do.”
     “Which feeling prevails: hope or inevitability?”
     “I tend to be an optimist, so I think that I can overcome my parents’ challenges. But maybe that’s not true. Maybe I’m doomed. Maybe that’s just how the world works: we’re doomed to live our parents’ lives over and over again, from generation to generation.”
     “You said they were very different from each other.”
     “Yes, my mom was a single parent and always worked but remained poor. My father graduated from Harvard, and he’s been quite successful. Everybody thinks that I’m trying to be like him—I also graduated from Harvard. For most of my life, I’ve wanted to live up to the ideals that my father created, to prove that I have it in me even though I grew up in more modest circumstances. So I chased after certain things, but now I think, ‘What am I doing? These things aren’t even truly valuable.’I realize now that what my mother gave me was much more valuable.
     “I’ve only recently—in the past five years or so—had a relationship with my father. I moved here to take care of him when he was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer. That’s how I got to know him: those noble, virtuous qualities that I associated with my father weren’t there, replaced instead by underhanded, manipulative, cowardly characteristics. The more I get to know him, the more I realize that I’m thankful that my mother raised me. He’s one of the worst people I know—I don’t want to be like him at all.
     “At the same time, I also wonder how it makes me look to think such things about a man who has accomplished so much.I feel strongly, yet I’m very reluctant to talk about it. My dad is very sensitive, and if this dialogue becomes public I know that he will be hurt to realize that I didn’t blindly worship him. Even though I have my issues with my dad, I still want to protect him.”
     “You haven’t spoken very harshly of him—I don’t think that you hate him.”
     “Well, to go back to the beginning, I’m a composite, so I can’t hate him without hating myself. In a way, I see myself in him. That’s what makes it so complicated and confusing: I identify with his undesirable aspects. I have to embrace and work on them because they’re in me, too. The same is true of my mom: she was super loving and giving, but she was also a drunk and a drug addict. I play up the love, because that’s desirable and allows me to embrace the idea of her.
     “I want to protect my parents because their qualities are a part of me. They are seriously flawed human beings in very different ways, so I have no clear role model to follow: no one to ask for advice, no compass. I feel that I’m at a crossroads, but I don’t know what I should be pursuing. That’s what dominates my life right now: what’s valuable? What’s right? I’ve had this hodgepodge of life, and now I’m confused.”

at the end of the day

(Source: likes-boys, via tinyyams)