Super Massive Rebloger

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eight years old, she’s got pink cheeks that her grandmother calls chubby. She wants a second cookie but her aunt says “you’ll get huge if you keep eating.” She wants a dress and the woman in the changing room says “she’ll probably need a large in that.” She wants to have dessert and her waiter says “After all that dinner you just had? You must be really hungry!” and her parents laugh.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is eleven and she is picked second-to-last in gym class. She watches a cartoon and sees that everyone who is annoying is drawn with a big wide body, all sweaty and panting. At night she dreams she is swelling like the ocean over seabeds. When she wakes up, she skips school.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is thirteen and her friends are stick-thin ballerinas with valleys between their hipbones. She is instead developing the wide curves of her mother. She says she is thick but her friends argue that she’s “muscular” and for some reason this hurts worse than just admitting that she jiggles when she walks and she’ll never be a dancer. Eating seconds of anything feels like she’s breaking some unspoken rule. The word “indulgent” starts to go along with “food.”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fourteen and she has stopped drinking soda and juice because they bloat you. She always takes the stairs. She fidgets when she has to sit still. Whenever she goes out for ice cream, she leaves half at the bottom - but someone else always leaves more and she feels like she’s falling. She pretends to like salad more than she does. She feels eyes burrowing through her body while she eats lunch. Kate Moss tells her nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but she just feels like she is wilting.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is fifteen the first time her father says “you’re getting gaunt.” She rolls her eyes. She eats one meal a day but thinks she stays the same size. Every time she picks up a brownie she thinks of the people she sees on t.v. and every time she has cake, she thinks of the one million magazine articles on restricting calories. She used to have no idea a flat stomach was supposed to be beautiful until she saw advice on how to achieve it. She cuts back on everything. She controls. They tell her she’s getting too thin but she doesn’t believe it.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is sixteen and tearing herself into shreds in order for a thigh gap big enough to hush the screams in her head. She doesn’t “indulge,” ever. She can’t go out with friends, they expect her to eat. She damns her sweet tooth directly to hell. It’s coffee for breakfast and tea for lunch and if there’s dance that evening, two cups of water and then maybe an apple. She lies all the time until she thinks the words will rot her teeth. She dreams about food when she sleeps. Her aunt begs her to eat anything, even just a small cookie. They say, “One bite won’t make you fat, will it, darling?”

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is seventeen and too sick to go to prom because she can’t stand up for very long. She thinks she wouldn’t look good in a dress anyway. Her nails are blue and not because they are painted. Her hair is too thin to do anything with. She’s tired all the time and always distracted. She once absently mentions the caloric value of grapes to the boy she is with and he looks at her like she’s gone insane and in that moment she realizes most people don’t have numbers constantly scrolling in their heads. She swallows hard and tries to figure out where it all went wrong, why more than a granola bar for a meal makes her feel sick, why she tastes disease and courts with death. She misses sleep. She misses being able to dream. She misses being herself instead of just being empty.

A FAT LITTLE GIRL
is twenty and writes poetry and is a healthy weight and still fights down the voices every single day. She puts food in her mouth and sometimes cries about it but more and more often feels good, feels balanced. Her cheeks are pink and they are chubby and soft and no longer growing slight fur. Her hair is long and it is beautiful. She still picks herself apart in the mirror, but she’s starting to get better about it. She wears the dress she likes even if it only fits her in a large and she doesn’t feel like a failure for it. She is falling in love with the fat on her hips.

She is eating out with friends and not worrying about finding the lowest calorie item on the menu when she hears a mother tell her four year old daughter “You can’t have ice cream, we just had dinner.
You don’t want to end up as a fat little girl.”

Why do we constantly do this to our children? /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

This is heartbreaking

(via emsfitjourney)

(via stranger-thanyoudreamt-it)

fangirling-so-hard-rn:

nowyoukno:

Now You Know (Source)

Crows are scaryThey
use tools
Can be taught to speak (like parrots)
Have huge brains for birds
like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee
They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things
they are scary smart at solving puzzles
some ravens stay with their mates until one of them dies
they can remember faces
SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT.  They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows.  Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag.  But the nice guys with masks they left alone.  THEN, OH WE’RE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WEREN’T EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight.  THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES.
They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns.
Guys I’m really scared of crows now.(q) 

fangirling-so-hard-rn:

nowyoukno:

Now You Know (Source)

Crows are scary
They

  • use tools
  • Can be taught to speak (like parrots)
  • Have huge brains for birds
  • like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee
  • They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things
  • they are scary smart at solving puzzles
  • some ravens stay with their mates until one of them dies
  • they can remember faces
  • SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT.  They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows.  Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag.  But the nice guys with masks they left alone.  THEN, OH WE’RE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WEREN’T EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight.  THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES.
  • They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns.

Guys I’m really scared of crows now.
(q

(via zoenne)

qalbesaleem:

How quickly we forget – How Muslims Helped Ireland During The Great Famine
Ireland was ridden with famine and disease between 1845 and 1849. Also known as the Great Hunger, this famine had lasting effects: at least one million people died due to famine-related diseases and more than one million Irish fled, mainly to the United States, England, Canada, and Australia.
The Islamic State (Ottoman) ruler at that time Sultan Khaleefah Abdul-Majid declared his intention to send £10,000 sterling to Irish farmers but Queen Victoria requested that the Sultan send only £1,000 sterling, because she had sent only £2,000 sterling herself. The Sultan sent the £1,000 sterling but also secretly sent 3 ships full of food. The British administration tried to block the ships, but the food arrived secretly at Drogheda harbour.
This generous charity from a Muslim ruler to a Christian nation is also important, particularly in our time when Muslims are often unfairly accused of human rights violations. Likewise, the appreciative plaque and overall reaction of the Irish society in return for this charity deserves to be applauded. We hope that the Turkish-Irish friendship sets a model for peace among different nations.
In commemoration of the Ottoman aid, Drogheda added the Ottoman crescent and star to its coat of arms. Their football club’s emblem retains this design til this day.

qalbesaleem:

How quickly we forget – How Muslims Helped Ireland During The Great Famine

Ireland was ridden with famine and disease between 1845 and 1849. Also known as the Great Hunger, this famine had lasting effects: at least one million people died due to famine-related diseases and more than one million Irish fled, mainly to the United States, England, Canada, and Australia.

The Islamic State (Ottoman) ruler at that time Sultan Khaleefah Abdul-Majid declared his intention to send £10,000 sterling to Irish farmers but Queen Victoria requested that the Sultan send only £1,000 sterling, because she had sent only £2,000 sterling herself. The Sultan sent the £1,000 sterling but also secretly sent 3 ships full of food. The British administration tried to block the ships, but the food arrived secretly at Drogheda harbour.

This generous charity from a Muslim ruler to a Christian nation is also important, particularly in our time when Muslims are often unfairly accused of human rights violations. Likewise, the appreciative plaque and overall reaction of the Irish society in return for this charity deserves to be applauded. We hope that the Turkish-Irish friendship sets a model for peace among different nations.

In commemoration of the Ottoman aid, Drogheda added the Ottoman crescent and star to its coat of arms. Their football club’s emblem retains this design til this day.

(Source: razormind.co.uk, via zoenne)

there is an important difference. i think. between being with some one.
and being with some body.
— Della Hicks-Wilson

it has been brought to my attention by a few people, even after i have approached this artist about not seeking to write in my same exact style with my same exact creative dna, that they continue to persist in doing so. i understand as artists we find inspiration in each others work. i understand that folks will find inspiration in my work, and that may sometimes translate into adopting some things. i think as artists we do this as we journey into the voyage of our own voice and creativity. and so. i sought to make peace with how closely this artist chooses to model their work next to mine as best i could. then most recently, this poem was shown to me. i had a visceral response. because it was like looking at my own writing. like looking in a mirror. this artist is now utilizing my exact phrasing and usage regarding the period- the only punctuation i use in my writing (besides the rare comma or parentheses). using the period after the first word. or as a comma. as a way to highlight a word or passage. to stop and restart in mid sentence. and also as a double meaning. is a very unique birthmark of my work. it is not something that is utilized by many, if any, here on tumblr. i will say, it is not something i have seen anyone else do (even this artist, as we did follow one another at one time). this does not mean i am the only one to have ever done it on the earth. i say this to say, i am the first poet i know of here in the tumblr writing community/ or that i have come across in reading others. and with my work having become very visible here, along with how closely their writing resembles mine, i have come to the conclusion that this artist is highly invested in continuing in this manner of adopting my creative identity and structure into their work in a way that is boundary crossing, consistent, and unsettling. here is my concern, as a new writer in the world at large, it is important that my creative identity be associated with me. as it is mine. my breath. my expression of craft. my energy. if this artist continues to adopt my lingual and grammatical usage so closely, and publishes work that so deeply mirrors mine, how will readers know whose is what. or who this specific style originated from. how will they know that the structure and bones of writing that come from my being. are mine. what i have honed and birthed. also, how long will this continue with this artist. and will it end. i understand that this is social media. i understand that people are inspired. i understand that others do not hold my beliefs around creativity, art, and respect for the artist. but when does someone mirroring your art/ your work so closely, cross the the line and become infringement of your work. - nayyirah (via nayyirahwaheed)

This is the most self-involved bullshit about writing style in poetry that I have ever read. Over the use of a period? Plagiarism is one thing, but the use of a period? Please excuse all other writers now for nayyirah waheed has a claim on the fucking sentence fragment

(via solve-coagula)

creative boundaries are a reality. plagiarism is a reality. and yes the use of a period in writing, just like any other tool in art, matters. how we use these tools as artists, are our signature to the world. to you be your way, to me be mine.

(via nayyirahwaheed)

It makes me said to see this have to go down between fellow creatives. As much as I appreciate both solve-coagula and nayyirahwaheed, Nayyirah’s right, the use of periods, commas, and sentence fragments, especially in the specific and hallmark way that Nayyirah is known for using them, is a tool. And if Della Hicks-Wilson is now all of a sudden using those same periods and fragments in that same way, Nayyirah’s saying she believes it may not just be taking notes from her, but something more. No one can claim a sentence fragment as their own, but the way Nayyirah uses them is very distinct and very her own, and for Della to be writing in the same exact way Nayyirah does goes beyond just adopting some of other creatives’ practices. Nayyirah’s not accusing, condemning, or demanding that anyone, or Della, stop or start doing anything, she’s bringing up a topic she thinks is important for the whole of creative society on here and as a rule for creatives in general, and I think she was right in how she approached what she sees to be this issue (and I think she’s right, it is an issue.)

Steups. So sick of this petty bullshit. Fighting down for the usage of a period. Well yes. Jackasses all of you. You should feel a sense of pride that your writing has influenced and inspired others like the great roman poets of old used to before hand. Get a grip. Writing is an artform that cannot claim specific ownership. It is forever available for readers to be inspired by. Y’all need a fucking reality check. If you don’t want to inspire people stop posting your bloody writing.

(via one-valhalla)

no. to being juxtaposed with the literary ‘manners’ of the ‘great’ white roman writers. no to theft as inspiration. no to death of the artist. no to an artists work not belonging to the artist, but to the world. no to total lack and disregard of the artist. no to total disrespect of the artist. none of these interest me. none of these are a truth to me. none of these are valid or legitimate ways of addressing or honoring art. to me. and as this is MY work, and MY experience, how i feel about the plagiarism of MY work, is the only and most important voice in the matter. how i feel is complete. your acceptance, approval, or validation are not necessary.

(via nayyirahwaheed)

You are one of the greats my love. Or at least you are becoming one. I apologize for my harsh response. But still. There will come the time where you will have to accept this. That you and your writing. Influences others to become great. No. They should not plagiarize your work. That is in itself wrong. They can however choose to follow the precedent you have so wonderfully set. I am sorry you feel this way. But I hope one day you will understand that you’ve opened doors, opened eyes and minds. You are an inspiration. Be proud of that. Don’t chastise them for stealing your style. Instead ask them and yourself: what was so profound abt the way I wrote that made them/ you want to mimic it. And if you can’t do that. Well say what. You’ll always see them as a theif and you the one unfairly stolen from instead of the one blessed with being able to reach another mind and show them a way that they couldn’t reach their own.

(via one-valhalla)

to you be your way. to me be mine.

(via nayyirahwaheed)

"Be proud people admire you so much they are willing to steal from you."
This is completely ridiculous. When you love someone’s work, you may admire them. You may become inspired. But that does not give you the right to steal their style. That is disrespectful and if that is the only way you know how to love I feel sorry for you.

(via capnmiamia)

I have taken a hiatus recently from the world of tumblr as I found myself becoming too opinionated on topics I had no right to weigh in on, however the exchange above really riled me. Firstly being mimicked or copied is a very painful experience and this is not just in writing, as a scientist when other scientists use similar experimental designs, or lay out aims like you, or even just borrow the way you present your work for publication, it is painful. And this is a scientific community where I would love people using the results and inferals that I concluded upon in their own work (with citations or recognition).

The claim that somehow Nayyirah’s desire to have her own voice and style to be explicitly hers something egotistical, is unfounded, unwarranted and most dangerously unsympathetic. I think cynicism and criticism becomes such a big way that people get their voices heard on a forum quintessentially based upon your opinions that it dulls people’s ability to critically evaluate and sympathise with posters. Your voice is yours, your style of writing is as unique to you as a fingerprint is, we all have experienced life differently, we have all read books that even if similar are not exactly the same and so whilst complete originality is impossible the want for somebody to not steal your writing style (that’s what we are discussing here not inspiration) is a very reasonable desire.

Personally, I sympathise with you Nayyirah, I understand how infuriating it must be for somebody to write like you and how that must be amplified because language, words and prose are your work, they are your passion your love and arguably they make up a very big piece of you. I think that whoever is writing as you should figure out that whilst some writing moves you to mimic is disingenuous to the poet who’s work you loved and secondly to your own voice. Anyway that’s my two cents.

(via phantom-pupil)

Yes yes and yes.
Being an artist is not synonymous with consenting to theft.

(via phoenixx23)

(via jackalwedding)

MY GRANDPA WANTED TO BE AN ARTIST

honerablerosemary:

BUT HE HAD 7 KIDS AND A WIFE TO FEED SO HE ENDED UP OWNING A GROCERY STORE AFTER SERVING IN WW2

TODAY MY DAD WAS CLEANING THE HOUSE AND FOUND SOME PENCIL DRAWINGS THAT MY GRANDPA DID AND ASKED IF I WANTED TO HAVE THEM AND I

image

CAN WE JUST LOOK AT THIS

image

MY BAD WEBCAM PICTURES DON’T EVEN DO THEM JUSTICE LIKE LOOK AT THESE

image

MY GRANDPA NEVER BECAME A FAMOUS ARTIST

image

BUT I WANT TO MAKE HIM KNOWN

(via the-psychologist-tried)

timethekidgotfree:

cuteys:

kayquimi:

ceruleanrabbitking:

doctor-john:

the-cosmic-life:

I BET THAT IF TWO KIDS LIVED IN THOSE TWO HOUSES THAT THEY WOULD COME OUT ON THEIR ALMOST CONJOINING ROOFS OUTSIDE THEIR BEDROOM WINDOWS AND TALK AND BE BEST FRIENDS AND FALL IN LOVE.

I will not write fluff to that. I won’t. No.

LUCY I FOUND IT

But what if instead of two kids, it was, say, a kid and an old woman? And at first they just ignore each other and keep their blinds down and curtains shut, but then the kid climbs out onto the roof one spring morning to get a frisbee and she’s got the window open bc it’s so nice out and she tells him to cut that out, it’s not a jungle gym and maybe the kid shows off a bit and nearly falls, and the old woman catches his arm…. anyway, so sometimes they leave the windows open and the kid’ll show off his comic books or asks what rhymes with ‘beautiful’ (and it’s totally for homework shut up), and the old woman tells him about all the protests and marches she took part in, and asks him the name of that one cute pop star (it’s absolutely for her crossword now shush). And the old woman gives the kid relationship advice, and doesn’t tell when he tries a bit too much of his parents’ liquor cabinet one time, and the kid comes over and shows her how to use the smartphone her daughter bought for her, and doesn’t tell when she sneaks a cigarrette out of said daughter’s bag. And when the weather’s too bad to open the windows, they tape silly pictures or notes to the glass for the other to see (the kid makes sure to make his extra big so she doesn’t have to admit her eyeight isn’t what it used to be), and when it is nice the kid will sneak over and leave seashells on her windowsill, because the old woman said once she misses the sea, but she can’t travel like she used to. And one day he peeks in her window and sees her on the floor, and calls 911 and basically saves her life because she had a stroke and nobody would’ve known in time otherwise. And when she finally gets back from the hospital, just for a while because her daughter’s talking about a retirement home where she’ll have plenty of medical care and lots of friends her age, the kid comes through the window and then pulls another kid through the window who he introduces as his boyfriend, and says he wanted her to meet him. And she sniffs and interrogates the boyfriend in proper elderly relative fashion, and then declares him worthy of her boy— barely. And when she finally does have to go to that retirement home, the kid still comes to visit her, and always leaves seashells on the windowsill.

I’m not crying or anything

I am omg

timethekidgotfree:

cuteys:

kayquimi:

ceruleanrabbitking:

doctor-john:

the-cosmic-life:

I BET THAT IF TWO KIDS LIVED IN THOSE TWO HOUSES THAT THEY WOULD COME OUT ON THEIR ALMOST CONJOINING ROOFS OUTSIDE THEIR BEDROOM WINDOWS AND TALK AND BE BEST FRIENDS AND FALL IN LOVE.

I will not write fluff to that. I won’t. No.

LUCY I FOUND IT

But what if instead of two kids, it was, say, a kid and an old woman? And at first they just ignore each other and keep their blinds down and curtains shut, but then the kid climbs out onto the roof one spring morning to get a frisbee and she’s got the window open bc it’s so nice out and she tells him to cut that out, it’s not a jungle gym and maybe the kid shows off a bit and nearly falls, and the old woman catches his arm…. anyway, so sometimes they leave the windows open and the kid’ll show off his comic books or asks what rhymes with ‘beautiful’ (and it’s totally for homework shut up), and the old woman tells him about all the protests and marches she took part in, and asks him the name of that one cute pop star (it’s absolutely for her crossword now shush). And the old woman gives the kid relationship advice, and doesn’t tell when he tries a bit too much of his parents’ liquor cabinet one time, and the kid comes over and shows her how to use the smartphone her daughter bought for her, and doesn’t tell when she sneaks a cigarrette out of said daughter’s bag. And when the weather’s too bad to open the windows, they tape silly pictures or notes to the glass for the other to see (the kid makes sure to make his extra big so she doesn’t have to admit her eyeight isn’t what it used to be), and when it is nice the kid will sneak over and leave seashells on her windowsill, because the old woman said once she misses the sea, but she can’t travel like she used to. And one day he peeks in her window and sees her on the floor, and calls 911 and basically saves her life because she had a stroke and nobody would’ve known in time otherwise. And when she finally gets back from the hospital, just for a while because her daughter’s talking about a retirement home where she’ll have plenty of medical care and lots of friends her age, the kid comes through the window and then pulls another kid through the window who he introduces as his boyfriend, and says he wanted her to meet him. And she sniffs and interrogates the boyfriend in proper elderly relative fashion, and then declares him worthy of her boy— barely. And when she finally does have to go to that retirement home, the kid still comes to visit her, and always leaves seashells on the windowsill.

I’m not crying or anything

I am omg

(via stranger-thanyoudreamt-it)

The Daily Buzz SXSW Interview: Harry Lloyd, Bryan Reisberg, and Burton Ritchie talk “Big Significant Things”

(Source: harry-lloyd / harrylloyds)

SXSW: ‘Big Significant Things’ Interview with Star Harry Lloyd

(Source: harry-lloyd)