newsweek:

gifhound:

WTF. Mark Zuckerberg and now-wife Priscilla Chan were spotted in this video for a Chinese TV documentary about the police force. The AP confirms that Zuckerberg and Chan were in Shanghai on vacation in late March when this footage was captured. 

(Via CCTV)

What in the world…

darksilenceinsuburbia:

 Silviu and Irina Székely. In The Midst of Great Disorder II.

soldierporn:

Slavin War Memorial.

Slavín is a memorial monument and military cemetery in Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia. It is the burial ground of thousands of Soviet Army soldiers who fell during World War II while liberating the city in April 1945 from the occupying German Wehrmacht units and the remaining Slovak troops who supported the clero-fascist Tiso government. It is situated on a hill amidst a rich villa quarter of the capital and embassy residences close to the centre of Bratislava.

It was constructed between 1957 and 1960 on the site of a field cemetery, and opened on April 3, 1960 on the occasion of the 15th anniversary of the city’s liberation. The monument was constructed similar in kind to the Palace of Culture and Science in Stalinist architectural style. In 1961 it was declared a National Cultural Monument. Its designer was Ján Svetlík.

A staircase leads to the cemetery with 6 mass graves and 278 individual ones. The central part is created by a ceremony hall, the dominant part of the monument. It is encircled by a magnificent colonnade. The entrance cassette door into the ceremony hall, whose walls are covered with marble, is decorated with a bronze relief composition by R. Pribiš from the outer side, commemorating the struggles during the Second World War.

[Source: Tour Slovakia & Wikipedia.]

Sour Bib, Slané Mlieko.

He walks in and the wick is lit. He comes in to criticize my work and put on that “I don’t want to be here,” tone of voice. There are no pleasant topics between us these days, not when everything and everybody around us seems to be moving at the speed of a disabled mongoloid.

Some examples are:
I’m taking off my pants in the bathroom, with my ass facing the mirror. He looks at my reflection and says, “you’re fat.” I turn to glance at my ass and see cellulite. My lungs exhaled spirit as my legs carried me to the floor of the guest room. Of course he didn’t notice I was crying. After he left I took a nap from being sad. I always nap when I feel sad because waking up kind of makes me forget what I was sad about.

He doesn’t believe in getting a lawyer for our immigration needs. I’ve told him from the start, we light to have one. Instead he’s done the paperwork himself (and with the tele-aid of a few female success cases) and has received now two delays. This makes him sad and frustrated because it means he cannot see his family this fall. The longer this process takes, the longer it’ll be before life gets to moving on. He doesn’t really think about it this, but affects me too. I don’t get to see my father either, and he’s also sick. He’s always sick these days. My poor, poor husband is a good man and he does deserve to go back home this fall. It makes a hole in my chest to see his face become so disappointed with the opening of every letter from Homeland Security.

Tonight when he got up from the sofa and said to me, “I don’t feel like listening to you,” my mind went voicing backwards to a moment in the Christmas eve of 2009. Or was it 2009? Maybe 2010… Either way, it was a moment between Keith and I. He was here with me in this living room looking at me. He rarely ever said that I looked beautiful, and this was one of those rare occasions. At night, after my brother and my cousin were asleep, he got on the twin mattress with me. Our hearts were racing with both excitement and the fear of getting caught. I can remember the smell of his skin as he moved his body closer to mine ever so slowly.
Keith called me fat a lot. In fact, he had a nickname for me; “fatty.” He’d say that while pinching my side, my upper arm, my cheeks, or while slapping neon the thigh. And I had nothing to say because he had no fat at all. In fact, even if he did I wouldn’t have cared because I’d never had anyone else anyway. Being in this house reminds me a lit about those times. The years, the months, and the terrible hours spent hoping that the call wouldn’t go to voicemail.

Being someone’s wife is liberating in some ways that I somewhat expected. It makes it easier to turn down men. It makes it easier to gain respect from women at the grocery market. It also makes it easier to get people to stop calling me.

Goodnight now. My eyes are aching too badly. Must sleep.

Anonymous asked: "I rewound back to the people I used to call friends and a few of which you could call lovers and all I saw was holes. Empty, dirty holes in the ground. " What do you mean by holes?

I guess the what I meant was a sort of indifference. Many of those people have let me down, a few of them repeatedly. Thinking about our time together is like looking into a hole. It had its go, then stopped dead in the ground. Holes in my confidence, ability to love and accept love, holes in my psychological being that I’m still waiting to fill.

Years in Retrospect

Tumblr is never open in my Chrome tabs anymore. I guess this has been going on for a while now. I don’t feel like writing. I don’t feel like talking, not really. I don’t even feel like really being part of anything, though I feel obligated to be.

A few years ago a doctor looked in to my eyes and said, “You want to kill yourself.” She repeated it several times before I really let it sink in. The gray walls of her so called office were melting into that scene from Disney’s Hercules when you see Hades. And not one secon later was I back in that small gray office sobbing tears of absolute fury and repeating, “But I didn’t! I don’t!” Her name was Dr. Hunter, as I recall. She strongly resembled one of Adolf Hitler’s dream women; with wiry grayish blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and pink skin that sagged beneath the eyes and cheeks. Dr. Hunter prescribed me pills that I had no choice but to take. And then my mind was washed away again.

An old love once told me that I was different when we met. I once wrote down in my diary that I was different every time they gave me new pills. Once you’ve been there once, you’ll go there twice. 

Our memory is an intricate thing. It seems that my brain has chosen to erase the finer details or those teenage traumas. Even my childhood is beginning to fade. And by choice. I’d rather pretend that it was all just okay than try to recall the details of the deaths of my parents’ lovers. My babysitter walking out the back door. The Pocahontas coloring book that became torn up and blemished years later. The child that my father calls “kukulka.” The children he has taken for his own. The men who came and tore me from the thin vein of longing I had for my mother. All of those terrible nights in the room with the pink walls, where crying and screaming was the only way to remind someone that I was still living. 

One summer ago somebody that I used to cry about re entered my life. By choice. He came to my neighborhood to apologize for the things he put me through. To this day I wonder what he feels when he thinks about me. Or if he even does think about me. You know, he said to me that he can’t be intimate with girls because I’ve set him such a high standard? I’ve got to say, that is by far the best compliment I’ve ever received. Though in his brief return he did not say it, I could feel that somewhere inside of him he wanted to admit to me that he did love me. And before he left he asked me what it was that I felt for him then. And I told him the truth. I said, “That was love.”

It’s been a little while since then and we’ve had one short phone call since. He was still lost and still holding back when he told me about his parents and the girls at school. A few months later he never mentioned my wedding, but his mother sent me congratulations over a Facebook message. The life that was then has somehow  turned in to now. Everything in between my youth with Keith and my adulthood with Alexey seems to me like some strange sort of nightmare. 

And if I list out the names it will only be true. The names of places, people, cars, and drinks that for now are only somewhere under my blanket of pill containers. All of those things are… or should be done and over with. 

The other day I woke up to myself crying in the shower. Not that I actually woke up from a slumber, but I didn’t feel awake until I realized what was around me. I felt a fear tingle through my bones and out my skin. Without this man I’ve married I have nobody to go to. There is not a soul in this world with whom I can imagine living happily with other than him. I rewound back to the people I used to call friends and a few of which you could call lovers and all I saw was holes. Empty, dirty holes in the ground. 

I stepped out of the warm steam completely soaked in tears and water. My reflection only burned my face when the conclusion reached my thoughts. If we don’t work this out, everything will have been for nothing. 

The truth is that I have made enough mistakes in my young life and I have suffered enough consequences for those mistakes. The grit of those consequences is what builds my scales. The person you know today has finally changed. This is all about to take a radical step toward a new beginning. The wife life.

Anonymous asked: Marina from Marina and the diamonds (it's a band) reminds me of you. Hope everything is okay with you!

The lights are dim in the night time. I don’t know how to sleep without the curtains closed. And when I wake up, it’s always cold until my puppy rests her head on my chest and sighs. 

Tomorrow my husband comes back from the place he had to be. I’m not sure how I’m here, but somehow I’ve managed thus far.

My life has altered in the past week. In fact, the entire last month has been somewhat symbolic of the way my life has always gone. 

But I guess that isn’t the story you were hoping I’d reply with. It’s cool that the and reminds you of me, I like that band. I wonder if it’s only because the singer’s name is Marina or if it’s because of the lyrics, maybe the music… 

I’m not the same person you used to know, assuming that you’re from my less recent past. The world around me is changing and I think for once, I’m changing with it. Somehow I feel it isn’t for the best. Well, anyway. Goodnight.

Who to Follow on Pinterest...

Anonymous asked: lol you got some karma, son!

For what now? Using the “N Word”? News flash: Way more people use that word than me and they mean it. I’m just a kid who use the word with just the slightest hint of racism. The KKK and the southerners and a good deal of the rest of the world uses words like those and mean it to the death.

Or was it because you just genuinely hate people who speak their mind? Because that is all I’m doing here anyway. If you have a problem with the things I say, my terminology, or my opinions, please and thank you, get the fuck out and stay out.
I have no need for these kinds of stresses in my life, and especially not from scared pussy anonymous losers like you.
Anonymous messages will henceforth be disabled.

Husband Trials

A terrible thing has happened today.Since I can no longer trust my followers, I cannot say what it is that has happened. 

But do know this: 

I am sorry for every time I didn’t listen.
I am sorry for every time I scolded you for no good reason.
I am sorry for every time I didn’t pay full attention to your story.
I am sorry for being blindsided by stress.
I am sorry for my bad timing.
I am sorry for calling you names.
I am sorry for accusing you of things you didn’t do.
I am sorry for my jealousy.
I am sorry for overreacting.
I am sorry for making you cry.
I am sorry for being so messy.
I am sorry for not trying hard enough. 

We are in this life once and it took a phone call like that to make me realize it.

I want you back and I want you back for good, no matter what I need to do or change. I want to be your shining star, your little niche, your best friend, your highlight. Just the way we used to be before the money got in the way and before the sex videos and before the people in our lives said rude things.

When I said “in sickness and in health, till death do us part,”  I meant it with my entire being. I love you. Please come home.

The reality

(Source: silent-musings)

Aftershock? (Taken with instagram)

ckck:

Seems like IKEA are really shaking things up this year. In addition to the previously announced TV set, they’re also going to release a digital camera made of cardboard called Knäppa (“Snap”). It’ll hold 40 photographs at a time and plugs directly into your USB port. While it’s not the prettiest camera the world has ever seen, I do love the idea of a screen-less digital camera that brings people back to the wait-and-see days of film.

Cool!