. . . the girl who has everything . . .
did-you-kno:

The new ION Luxury Hotel in Iceland features a Northern Lights Bar that is positioned to give a perfect view of the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) and the surrounding landscape while guests enjoy a beverage of choice.
Source

did-you-kno:

The new ION Luxury Hotel in Iceland features a Northern Lights Bar that is positioned to give a perfect view of the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) and the surrounding landscape while guests enjoy a beverage of choice.

Source

pandabearjayy:

I absolutely love the end result.

elodieunderglass:

gimmeagoodcoldbeer:

ronin134:

revengeofthemudbutt:

armedplatypus:

whiskey-weather:

stonerdoomandbeagles:

shoothikedrinkfuck:

blazepress:

This three-legged decorated war hero had one leg lost to surgery after taking four rounds from an AK-47.

Bad. Mother. Fucker.

 Those eyes say “Pretend to throw the tennis ball. I dare you to only pretend.”

I think those eyes say a lot more than that. He’s seen more than I ever will, done more than I’ll ever do, and his war will never be over.

He’s got Ranger scrolls on his collar. That dog is a god damn hero.

I just noticed the Purple Heart and that Scroll.Wow. Just wow. The picture alone, in all it’s detail says a lot of things. god damn.

I can’t not reblog this dog… his youEyes say so much

I’ve never seen a dog with such a face like that. Like an old man who went to war and if you ask him about he just stiffens up and face turns to stone. 

Layka is a lady dog. Let’s remember that.
Now, it’s an understandable problem - our socialization instantly encourages us to see this rugged, sleek, military animal as a male. Three-legged hero dog with military decorations and stern-appearing eyes? TOTALLY A DUDE DOG, JUST LOOK AT HIM. It’s a programmed response, and nothing to be ashamed of - let’s just be accurate and note that Layka’s a female.
I’ve highlighted all the reblogs above where Layka is described as a hero, an old man, with male pronouns - rather than the fierce, charming heroine she is. It’s kind of a teachable moment: how does an image of an animal, displaying absolutely no secondary sex characteristics, instantly give us these fictional headcanons about its gender and gender performance? It’s an impressive demonstration of our ability to translate body language.
The photographer who took this compelling shot noted that Layka’s playful, bouncy energy made it nearly impossible for him to get a shot with her mouth closed! He ended up having to stop using the tennis ball he was using to get her attention, because it made her too excited and smiley. Based on the photos below, I think she’d have quite a sense of humor about the “where’s the tennis ball?” game!

Of course, the photographer did end up connecting with a fundamental aspect of Layka’s nature in the cover photo; her serious, soldier side. But that’s not all the animal is. Does the dog in the unused shots still resemble an “old man?” Is the dog in the unused shots male or female? Is it still a hero with its tongue out? Is it still admirable without a “face like stone?”
This is what I mean when I say that we have to examine the lenses of culture and society that we are always, always looking through when we talk about science biology.

elodieunderglass:

gimmeagoodcoldbeer:

ronin134:

revengeofthemudbutt:

armedplatypus:

whiskey-weather:

stonerdoomandbeagles:

shoothikedrinkfuck:

blazepress:

This three-legged decorated war hero had one leg lost to surgery after taking four rounds from an AK-47.

Bad. Mother. Fucker.


Those eyes say “Pretend to throw the tennis ball. I dare you to only pretend.”

I think those eyes say a lot more than that. He’s seen more than I ever will, done more than I’ll ever do, and his war will never be over.

He’s got Ranger scrolls on his collar. That dog is a god damn hero.

I just noticed the Purple Heart and that Scroll.
Wow. Just wow. 
The picture alone, in all it’s detail says a lot of things. god damn.

I can’t not reblog this dog… his you
Eyes say so much

I’ve never seen a dog with such a face like that. Like an old man who went to war and if you ask him about he just stiffens up and face turns to stone. 

Layka is a lady dog. Let’s remember that.

Now, it’s an understandable problem - our socialization instantly encourages us to see this rugged, sleek, military animal as a male. Three-legged hero dog with military decorations and stern-appearing eyes? TOTALLY A DUDE DOG, JUST LOOK AT HIM. It’s a programmed response, and nothing to be ashamed of - let’s just be accurate and note that Layka’s a female.

I’ve highlighted all the reblogs above where Layka is described as a hero, an old man, with male pronouns - rather than the fierce, charming heroine she is. It’s kind of a teachable moment: how does an image of an animal, displaying absolutely no secondary sex characteristics, instantly give us these fictional headcanons about its gender and gender performance? It’s an impressive demonstration of our ability to translate body language.

The photographer who took this compelling shot noted that Layka’s playful, bouncy energy made it nearly impossible for him to get a shot with her mouth closed! He ended up having to stop using the tennis ball he was using to get her attention, because it made her too excited and smiley. Based on the photos below, I think she’d have quite a sense of humor about the “where’s the tennis ball?” game!

Layka is so smiley in person that the photographer struggled to get her to pose "seriously."

Of course, the photographer did end up connecting with a fundamental aspect of Layka’s nature in the cover photo; her serious, soldier side. But that’s not all the animal is. Does the dog in the unused shots still resemble an “old man?” Is the dog in the unused shots male or female? Is it still a hero with its tongue out? Is it still admirable without a “face like stone?”

This is what I mean when I say that we have to examine the lenses of culture and society that we are always, always looking through when we talk about science biology.

assholedisney:

today I saw a preteen girl pick up Mean Girls at Target and ask her friend what it was. She didn’t even know. She said it sounded dumb. The people are forgetting. The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.

whitepaperquotes:

Written by whitepaperquotes contributor Argie 

whitepaperquotes:

Written by whitepaperquotes contributor Argie 

The significance of plot without conflict

stilleatingoranges:

In the West, plot is commonly thought to revolve around conflict: a confrontation between two or more elements, in which one ultimately dominates the other. The standard three- and five-act plot structures—which permeate Western media—have conflict written into their very foundations. A “problem” appears near the end of the first act; and, in the second act, the conflict generated by this problem takes center stage. Conflict is used to create reader involvement even by many post-modern writers, whose work otherwise defies traditional structure.

The necessity of conflict is preached as a kind of dogma by contemporary writers’ workshops and Internet “guides” to writing. A plot without conflict is considered dull; some even go so far as to call it impossible. This has influenced not only fiction, but writing in general—arguably even philosophy. Yet, is there any truth to this belief? Does plot necessarily hinge on conflict? No. Such claims are a product of the West’s insularity. For countless centuries, Chinese and Japanese writers have used a plot structure that does not have conflict “built in”, so to speak. Rather, it relies on exposition and contrast to generate interest. This structure is known as kishōtenketsu.

Read More

cute-overload:

Formal Attirehttp://cute-overload.tumblr.com
floralls:

 Desert Garden by Marc Adamus

learnhowtoadult:

So on this blog, we’ve alluded to the fact that we planned to hire writers for some scripts (a la SciShow) in the future.

The future is now.

We’re currently looking to work with writers on the following topics:

  • How to Open a Checking Account
  • Credit Cards vs Debit…
writersrelief:

The Peter K. Hixson Memorial Award is currently open for poetry, short story, and essay submissions. Apply now!
Winners of the Peter K. Hixson Memorial Award will be given over $1,800 in Writer’s Relief submission services free of charge.
Deadline: July 8, 2012. Midnight, Eastern Daylight Time.

writersrelief:

The Peter K. Hixson Memorial Award is currently open for poetry, short story, and essay submissions. Apply now!

Winners of the Peter K. Hixson Memorial Award will be given over $1,800 in Writer’s Relief submission services free of charge.

Deadline: July 8, 2012. Midnight, Eastern Daylight Time.

mc-squidward:

doragray:

jennlferlawrence:

frostingpeetaswounds:

i laughed so hard at the “i don’t know” and “something is wrong”

the twilight one is like abstract poetry

If you read it all together it’s like the most awkward, tense conversation ever.
"My name is Katniss Everdeen," I sighed. Nothing happened.
"I don’t know," he sighed.
Harry looked around, I shake my head and shrugged.
Harry stared. “I am seventeen years old.”
I frowned and he waited.
"My home is District 12."
Harry chuckled and said nothing. Now I wish I had.
I laughed. We looked at each other. I swallowed hard. He shrugged. Harry blinked and hesitates. I flinched.
He looked around. “I’m not really surprised.”
I took a deep breath, something he didn’t have last time. “Something is wrong.”
He didn’t answer. He stood up.

OMG

mc-squidward:

doragray:

jennlferlawrence:

frostingpeetaswounds:

i laughed so hard at the “i don’t know” and “something is wrong”

the twilight one is like abstract poetry

If you read it all together it’s like the most awkward, tense conversation ever.

"My name is Katniss Everdeen," I sighed. Nothing happened.

"I don’t know," he sighed.

Harry looked around, I shake my head and shrugged.

Harry stared. “I am seventeen years old.”

I frowned and he waited.

"My home is District 12."

Harry chuckled and said nothing. Now I wish I had.

I laughed. We looked at each other. I swallowed hard. He shrugged. Harry blinked and hesitates. I flinched.

He looked around. “I’m not really surprised.”

I took a deep breath, something he didn’t have last time. “Something is wrong.”

He didn’t answer. He stood up.

OMG

hitrecordjoe:

CONTRIBUTE HERE

==

Writers: Write a Story Treatment or a Script about Dr. N and these Pigeon Spies.

Illustrators: Create Visuals for this world.

Animators: Find Visual contributions you like and begin doing some Test Animations.