Alvaro Laíz: Transmongolian

In Mongolia, where the weight of tradition and Soviet rule still hang heavy, it is considered dangerously taboo to be a homosexual. Gays, lesbians, and transsexuals must keep their identities secret, often secluding themselves or participating in prostitution, in an attempt to safeguard their lives against violence and discrimination. In 2011, photographer Álvaro Laiz decided to capture the secret lives of these Mongolians in his series “Transmongolian.” Laiz initially traveled to Mongolia because he was interested in how the country’s newly opened borders affected the population, with the tradition of Mongolian culture meeting with Western influences from the outside. His research led him to connections with transgender individuals whose stories he decided to document with his photography.

They cannot express themselves normally except in certain places,” Laiz explained to Slate. “Your life becomes a scenario in which you are pretending to be someone else. Your job, your relatives become part of this performance, and little space is left to act as you would really want to be. It is insane.”

Laiz captures these ostracized Monogolians conducting their day-today lives alongside images of them in traditional Mongolian queen costumes. Laiz’s Mongolian series is the first of a larger project exploring transgender people in societies across the world. (viahuffington post)

I remember in Elementary School when my friend Opie was killed, and it was the first time I really experienced a death of a friend. And the grievance counselor came to school and said: ‘This was Opie’s desk, he no longer occupies the desk. Now he occupies heaven.’ And it was really strange because there was this palpable physical and emotional vacancy where he was. There was this space, this energy beforehand but now it no longer is there which was really difficult for me to kind of manage that. And then as I get older, dealing with other deaths – friends and family, grandparents and my mother – and I started to realize that there’s all these vacancies that are created and yet I still feel this sort of weight – this heaviness from it. So it seems bullshit that there is a vacancy there, there is actually a palpable, physical weight in which we carry around, at least I carry around, and I started to think its because even though they no longer occupy the physical space – they now occupy my space.
—  Sufjan Stevens, Chicago Theater 4/24/2015


Height: 5’6

Starting Weight: 190ish

Current Weight: 150

Goal Weight: 140

I’m so proud of how far I’ve come. On the left I was in 8th grade, however I was pretty overweight all throughout high school. On the right I am 18, out of HS and in community college. I’ve gone through a lot of bumps in the road and most of the time I am super duper motivated and great at sticking to my diet, but it is nice to treat yo self and indulge sometimes!! I completely cut out junk food! I’ve plateau’d so many times that I recently tried changing it up and I’ve banned eating bread, pasta, rice, dairy and red meat. But I used to eat whole grain everything and I still lost weight!

I LOVE to dead lift and squat heavy. I’ve made the stair master my best friend. I dread cardio but I force myself to do 20 minutes each day. I used to constantly work my lower body but I’ve been adding in some chest, bis/tris and back days and I’ve noticed a huge difference in just a few months!

Sometimes I get awfully impatient and I just want to reach my fitness goals NOW, but progress takes time!! Don’t get caught up, you can do it, we can all get there. :)

I’ve seen a few posts going around about how terrible the new tumblr update is and how it especially can be terrible for people with dyslexia, like myself, and one huge thing that’s been helping me out BIG TIME is this app for google chrome:

I’ve had this app running since before the tumblr update and it’s already done a huge job of helping me out, and it still holds up with the new comment/reblog system. It still puts heavy emphasis on the weight of the text and still holds my eyes where they need to be to read something. I can’t speak for everyone since dyslexia effects everyone in different ways but this is something that still helps me so I thought I’d share something about it. It’s totally free and all you need to do is enable it on your browser. Hope this helps someone out a little!   

“they say it’s a solar flare, the biggest one they’ve ever seen,” he says with a sigh.

“are you scared?” i ask.

he runs his hand through his hair. “i don’t think so. it’s inevitable, right?”

“sure. but aren’t you scared of death?”

“why would i be? sometimes i try to get there early.” there is a smile on his face, but the weight of his words are still so heavy in the air.

“you never take anything seriously,” i mumble, more to myself than anything, but he hears me.

“sure i do. i took you seriously.”

“but you left.”

“still. you were my favorite thing,” he says, quietly, as if he is afraid of what i’ll do when i hear it.

“then why did you push me away? after all that time, all those memories, and you just… told me to leave.”

“i was made up of a million mistakes already. i didn’t want you to become another one.”

“but i did anyways, didn’t i?” i press.

“not exactly. because i let you go, you met him, and you were happy. and even though it wasn’t with me, it was… it was something, you know? something to feel good about.”

“so in a way, it was always about me, wasn’t it?”

he looks at me then, and his blue eyes are sad, like they always are.

“until the end,” he says.

—  the boys i’ve loved and the end of the world #2 -c.h. // instagram: (via @poeticaffinity)
Yes, I am scared.
Because I can line from the top of my mind every single way my body can be violated.
Because I can still feel the heavy weight of your words like hands around my neck, suffocating my thoughts and my words so they never leave my throat.
I’m scared because my body didn’t recover, my every muscle is pulsing in pain as if it’s still happening, as if the torture never stopped.
I’m scared because it doesn’t end.
I’m scared because I still can’t make noises when I cry.
I’m scared because when I try to remember, suddenly there’s no air in the room, or outside, or anywhere in the world.
I’m scared because I know you would do it again.
And again.
And people would believe your words of blaming me.
And never hear my silent cries for help.

Vera kisses like the the heavy, static moment before an explosion. That weighted stillness where the world seems to freeze and the electricity that crackles through the air blazes across skin like lightning. Alyn spends a single moment suspended somewhere between a star and an entire galaxy before he’s relaxing into her.

Her mouth is sinful. It moves deliberately against his lips, an ethereal combination of sighs and teeth and tongue. He tries to keep pace, but he feels lost as he tries to scramble for control; there is none, not with her, and soon he’s breathing heavily through his nose, running his hand across the curve of her hip with a tentative, feather touch.

“Why are you holding yourself back?” she whispers, lips brushing his as she speaks, her breath hot. “Give me everything.”

Lazy Morning - Joji Miller Imagine

You wake up to a dim, quiet bedroom, Joji’s weight still heavy and solid beside you. He’s fast a sleep, sprawled out in bed and practically dead to the world, one arm slung loosely across your stomach. You smile a little, not quite ready to get out of bed even though it’s almost ten o’clock, and cuddle against Joji, pulling the covers up around the both of you for warmth.

“‘Morning,” he mumbles, pulling you closer. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping after all.

“‘Morning, baby,” you murmur back, nearly sighing in content out loud when Joji pulls you against his chest and kisses the top of your head. “Want me to go make some coffee?”

“What?” Joji mumbles, practically still half asleep. You giggle and shake your head, goosebumps prickling on your skin when Joji begins to run his hand up and down your back in slow, lazy strokes.

“Never mind, baby,” you soothe, running your hand through his hair. Joji cuddles against your touch, a little noise of content escaping him.

You tuck into Joji’s chest and just let him hold you, knowing good and well that it’s probably time the both of you got out of bed. But neither of you have anything to do today, so what does it matter? One lazy morning never hurt anybody.


Remembering Ivan Turina: One Year Later

Exactly one year ago, our football family suffered a great loss with the untimely passing of Ivan Turina, former AIK goalkeeper, but more importantly, a hero and friend to his local community. Last year, our friend Özgür Kurtoglu wrote a piece on what Ivan Turina meant to him personally. Exactly one year later, here's Özgür looking at how a heavy weight still remains over Stockholm.

There’s a bronze statue in Miroševac, a torso placed upon a square of what looks like limestone, but it’s a figure not easily distinguishable via a solitary photograph shared on Facebook for someone without a trained eye for that sort of thing. It stands in the corner of a slightly larger than normal burial plot, next to a bench for visitors to rest upon, and a meter or two away from the cold black stone of a grave adorned with a flower arrangement, a scarf and a bottle of Coca-Cola. Another bottle remains placed inside the Friends Arena in Stockholm, within a now unused and semi-vacant booth in the locker room of AIK, in front of a Croatian flag. It will probably never be entirely vacant, in all honesty, but it does stay unused, even though it is still clearly occupied by the presence and the massive absence of Ivan Turina.

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Hold Me- Thorin Oakenshield

Originally posted by loriendesse

Tears trickled down your cheeks, as you held your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, hoping you could become so small that maybe there was the possibility you would disappear.

Sadly you didn’t. You were still curled up there, still feeling the heavy weight on your shoulders, and your emotions bubbling over in your stomach. No matter how hard you tried to hide the pain, it tumbled out as tears and choked sobs.

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These Water Buffalo horn and stamped Brass pieces from Diablo Organics are pretty wonderful for clients with stretched earlobes who are looking for something that will still dangle nicely, without being as heavy as weights!

I saw a red mark on your neck
And all I could imagine was some other girl giving it to you
The thought didn’t kill me as much as it used to
It was more the feeling of distinct numbness that comes with knowing everything you once had is gone
I’ve always wondered what would be worse
Not feeling anything or feeling everything
But now I know this perpetual state of blankness is the true killer
The assassin that sneaks into your house at night and points a gun to your head
The knife that slips into your back when you least expect it
I think that years from now I will still have this heavy weight on my shoulders
I will still be drowning and unable to find the right words to save myself
I will still look for you in every pair of eyes I see
Every single heart I feel beating against my own
This is the battle I have chosen
I am Atlas
And you are the sky
I can only wait for you to crush me.
—  Hickeys– Lily Rain

Mammen Dragon Seax

The seax is finished! Well, mostly. I am considering making a sheath for this one instead of selling it in my usual cigar box. The copper pieces give it a nice little bit of pop that helps set off the design. It has a nice feel to the handle weight, not too heavy but it still maintains a certain power heft. I tried something new with the blade finish as well. After sanding it I etched it in vinegar and heated it up a little to retain a little bit of stain. I tried to give it a slightly weathered/used look. I will have to keep experimenting with that.

Castle Fanfic: What Happens In AC - Chapter 4/?

I cannot say it enough, but thank you to everyone for your continued support of this story!

What Happens In AC

Rating: T

Where we left off:

She kisses his neck quickly. “See you at home, Castle. And send me Henry’s number.”

A dumb nod and a half wave is his only response. The boys still look thoroughly disgusted when she slides behind the wheel of the car.

Her work here is done.

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