Blood and bones. |
You should know I love Horror films, Graffiti, traveling, writing, urban life, cats, oddities and ugly things. |
watching this dude in the hostel serenade this random chick with a guitar. your shitty church band c chords aren’t working son. she is on facebook.
fillin out aps
(via gnosticmonk)
I hate being faced with the difficult decision of what to do with my life. I don’t know. Does anyone know? Does it really bother someone that much that I might not ever have a prestigious title or mind trapping cubicle?
It would probably make people’s stomachs churn to know that I admire people who followed trades, or those who opted to do alternatives to our flawed ass, cookie-cutter education system. Hell, if I had a sturdy back up plan, I’d do the same.
Today I met a tattoo artist who doesn’t have a dime to his name. He rides his bike to work, dodging logging trucks and heavy traffic. He said he doesn’t make much, but is genuinely happy doing what he does. I admire those who struggle to follow their passions. To size someone up based on their professions is sickening.
My two passions are art and children. I love creating and creative people. Trying to find my path via the big man upstairs and what personally feels right for me has proven a difficult challenge. Hell, I’ll probably marry a broke ass man some day too, but I don’t care. I don’t feel like money should be the basis for life or happiness. To some this might be settling, but to me it is just the opposite. I enjoy learning.I appreciate the scholastic opportunities I have been blessed with. For now, the school system has me by the balls.
(Source: mydarkenedeyes, via screams-moans-bats-n-bones)
(Source: paint-it-nice, via yo-czr)
Sippin on a Guinness
(via theonetoabuse)
(via foul-carcass)
I’ve met a couple of really interesting people within this last year. People who are creative, talented, genuine, and wise.
Those have shown me that kindness and humility still exist.
For various reasons, either we don’t speak or they were just passers by in my life story.
Still, I fight this urge to ask how they have been doing, or resist even the most minuscule form of communication that is facebook chat. I could click, call, text, but I am far too nervous.
I question if maybe they feel the same way towards me, or if I ever cross their minds at all.
One could hope.