And the rest is rust and stardust.

“Life is short. From here to that old car you know so well there is a stretch of twenty, twenty-five paces. It is a very short walk. Make those twenty-five steps. Now. Right now. Come just as you are. And we shall live happily ever after. ” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

Art history student

Zimbabwean living in London

hugvevo:

This is if you plan on being creative this year, or just love Halloween like this one right here. If any of the links don’t work please let me know and i will fix it! please reblog because this took me a few hours
Decorations:
30 DIY Decorations
Glow in the dark pumpkins
Really cool creepy jars 
How to decorate with leaves (kinda lame tbh) 
Mega easy quick decorations
Make a watermelon brain
Origami bats 
No carve pumpkin decorations
Diy pumpkin candles  (message me how this was if you try please!)
Cheap decorations
Glow stick pumpkin jars 
How to make styrofoam tombstones 
Costumes:
Skull Makeup 
Wednesday Adams 
10 makeup tutorials (creepy doll is my fave)
Cartoon Lips
Lion makeup
Skeleton costume
Sally (Nightmare before christmas) tutorial
Quick last minute costumes 
Corpse
Umbrella Bat costume
Sugar Skull tutorial 
Diy costume ideas
80’s Makeup 
Food:
Many types of Halloween food 
31 halloween foods 
Vampire cookies 
Jello worms 
Mini donut spiders 
Pumpkin chocolate bowls 
Halloween chips 
119 food ideas 
Blood platter cookies 
Mummy cookies 
Which brooms recipe 

asylum-art:

The Photograph Art of Thorsten Brinckmann: “Serial Collector”

We have seen images of German-based Thorsten Brinkmann’s work in the past, but we hadn’t fully understood how big his body of work was. The element of old mastery style portraits is what initially makes the work familiar, but of course, what is going on in the photographs is something conceptual and not typical in the least.

The still-life portraits contain objects from Brinkmann’s collection, from which he calls himself a “serial collector.” A here is the kicker: Thorsten Brinkmann photographs himself in these scenes and costumes. And of course, the absence of the face is a powerful characteristic in all of these photographs.

disneymoviefacts:

we love disney :) !!!!!
#dogsofinstagram #cockerspaniel #dogs #ladyandthetramp #igdaily #favourite #disneygirlproblems #jj #disney #disneygeek #disneygram #disnerd #disneyland #disneyside #disneymovie #instagramhub #likeforfollow #all_shots #jj_forum #likeforlike #whitagram #statigram #instadaily #instagood #igdisney #instadisney

disneymoviefacts:

we love disney :) !!!!!

#dogsofinstagram #cockerspaniel #dogs #ladyandthetramp #igdaily #favourite #disneygirlproblems #jj #disney #disneygeek #disneygram #disnerd #disneyland #disneyside #disneymovie #instagramhub #likeforfollow #all_shots #jj_forum #likeforlike #whitagram #statigram #instadaily #instagood #igdisney #instadisney

(via foreverdisneynerd)

lesleylloyd:

quiteyours:

it gets me every time

EVERY. TIME

lesleylloyd:

quiteyours:

it gets me every time

EVERY. TIME

(Source: howlolcanyougo, via theboyfallsfromthesky)

jrdyn:

fabled-foreigntongues:

so you know how everyone had a crush oh Phil back in the day? image

well look at him nowimage

he looks the exact same what are you trying to get at here

(via strangeparkings)

neurosciencestuff:

Brain’s Compass Relies on Geometric Relationships

The brain has a complex system for keeping track of which direction you are facing as you move about; remembering how to get from one place to another would otherwise be impossible. Researchers from the University of Pennsylvania have now shown how the brain anchors this mental compass.

Their findings provide a neurological basis for something that psychologists have long observed about navigational behavior: people use geometrical relationships to orient themselves.

The research, which is related to the work that won this year’s Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine, adds new dimensions to our understanding of spatial memory and how it helps us to build memories of events.           

The study was led by Russell Epstein, a professor of psychology in Penn’s School of Arts & Sciences, and Steven Marchette, a postdoctoral fellow in Epstein’s lab. Also contributing to the study were lab members Lindsay Vass, a graduate student, and Jack Ryan, a research specialist.

It was published in Nature Neuroscience.  

Read more

oldmanstephanie:

seriousjones:

anyone else feel like they learned too much about volcanoes in school? like, an excessive amount of time was dedicated to volcanoes? volcanoes are cool and all but i can remember learning about volcanoes in some capacity virtually every year of school and i don’t know why. it’s not really pertinent info. is the Big Volcano lobby to blame

team magma have had their hands in this country far too long

(via heliolisk)

pleatedjeans:

HURR HURR I’M A DOG [x]

pleatedjeans:

HURR HURR I’M A DOG [x]

(via tag-redfield)

queenidinamenzel:

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, and I wanted to make a post about what that means to me, and what I think it should mean to you.

I’m an 11 (almost 12) year cancer survivor. I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia at age 7. I underwent various forms of treatment (mostly a drug cocktail and numerous sessions of chemo) for the years of my life that were supposed to be designated as my childhood.

While I’m beyond grateful for the support I’ve had over the years, there are many aspects of childhood cancer that I don’t think are discussed enough. In lieu of the current commercialization of cancer (what I call the movement surrounding things like the TFiOS movie [I actually don’t consider the book to be part of this movement] and TV shows like Chasing Life and Red Band Society), I feel now is a good time to talk about what hasn’t really been discussed much in-depth before: the affects and effects cancer treatment can have on a child post-recovery; and what better place to start that discussion than on Tumblr?!

There seems to be a double standard with childhood cancer: As a society, we certainly care about (and perhaps adoringly pity?) the bald kids on billboards, the kids who go on talk shows, and the kids who pose with visiting celebrities. We champion these children and those who acknowledge them. I want to stress that I do think that all of this is very important. Children going through treatment should most definitely be championed. However, when their hair grows back, we don’t seem to know how to interact with cancer kids anymore.

I can say from personal experience that I often deal with more discomfort from people when I tell them, now, that I’m a childhood cancer survivor, versus when I was a child who had cancer. There’s an unease, where it can’t be determined whether I should be celebrated (as someone who is cancer-free) or pitied (as someone who had cancer at a young age). The word “survivor” is a one that not only others have struggled to handle, but it’s also a word I’ve struggled to identify with myself.

After my three-year-treatment was done, there was very little in place for me to process the intense thoughts and emotions that my cancer treatment had incited. Before I was ten, I had already begun to bury my, what I firmly believed were, unspeakable fears. I didn’t know how to talk to anyone, simply because surviving cancer wasn’t something people talked about with children, let alone helped a childhood cancer survivor process.

By the time I was in high school, my fear of a body that had betrayed me turned into an obsession to control my body (which manifested itself in the form of a restrictive eating disorder). Though talking about my eating disorder in the years to follow proved extremely difficult, I still found it easier to talk about than I did the topic of cancer. 

It’s only been two years since I’ve really begun to face my past, largely independently (though I’ve had vital support from friends and family as well) through process writing and finding ways to identify with the “survivor” I supposedly am. Reconnecting with my former hospital roommate, Danielle (in the second, third, and fourth pictures above), has also proved to be one of the biggest factors in my multi-faceted recovery. We didn’t have one another’s contact information after we were discharged from the hospital. It took an experimental survivor’s reunion (which I decided to attend very last minute) for us to reconnect. Danielle, as a childhood cancer survivor as well, has been able to relate to so much of what I’ve felt over the years. We’re able to speak uninhibited about our fears, our struggles, our joys, and our immense hopes. In seeing the survivor she embodies, I’ve been able to find more of the survivor in me.

Now, my point in writing all this, is to stress that it shouldn’t take 10 years and a perfectly-timed reunion for a childhood cancer survivor to feel understood. If not understanding, as I can’t expect everyone to be able to relate, childhood cancer survivors should at least be entitled to acknowledgement and support post-treatment. Yes, it’s incredibly important to be there for children while they’re going through treatment (I could write quite a bit about that too), but it’s also equally as important to be there for them once their treatment ends. 

This September, I challenge you to truly consider what life post-treatment for any cancer survivor is like. If you know any cancer survivors (of whatever age) see if they’re willing to share their story with you. If they’re not, that’s okay too (goodness knows I wasn’t ready for a long time). Acknowledging that a survivor has a story beyond cancer can be just as important and empowering as well.

(via foreverdisneynerd)

“The human heart beats approximately 4,000 times per hour and each pulse, each throb, each palpitation is a trophy engraved with the words “you are still alive.” You are still alive. Act like it.”

—   Rudy Francisco (via dieworten)

(Source: lillymcgavin, via wintercomingis)