The fuck is this?
Wake up , World!!
The fuck is this?
Wake up , World!!
More scenes from New York, March 2014
Scenes from New York, March 2014
i need to remind myself of this every day.
Recently, your mother and I were searching for an answer on Google. Halfway through entering the question, Google returned a list of the most popular searches in the world. Perched at the top of the list was “How to keep him interested.”
It startled me. I scanned several of the countless articles about how to be sexy and sexual, when to bring him a beer versus a sandwich, and the ways to make him feel smart and superior.
And I got angry.
Little One, it is not, has never been, and never will be your job to “keep him interested.”
Little One, your only task is to know deeply in your soul—in that unshakeable place that isn’t rattled by rejection and loss and ego—that you are worthy of interest. (If you can remember that everyone else is worthy of interest also, the battle of your life will be mostly won. But that is a letter for another day.)
If you can trust your worth in this way, you will be attractive in the most important sense of the word: you will attract a boy who is both capable of interest and who wants to spend his one life investing all of his interest in you.
Little One, I want to tell you about the boy who doesn’t need to be kept interested, because he knows you are interesting:
I don’t care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table—as long as he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches when you smile. And then can’t stop looking.
I don’t care if he can’t play a bit of golf with me—as long as he can play with the children you give him and revel in all the glorious and frustrating ways they are just like you.
I don’t care if he doesn’t follow his wallet—as long as he follows his heart and it always leads him back to you.
I don’t care if he is strong—as long as he gives you the space to exercise the strength that is in your heart.
I couldn’t care less how he votes—as long as he wakes up every morning and daily elects you to a place of honor in your home and a place of reverence in his heart.
I don’t care about the color of his skin—as long as he paints the canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.
I don’t care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or no religion—as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred.
In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common:
Because in the end, Little One, the only thing you should have to do to “keep him interested” is to be you.
Your eternally interested guy,
Happy International Women’s Day
How are we expected to function everyday with this kind of picture in our face.
We’re not. Photos like this exist solely to render us all incapable of even the most basic actions, like dressing and feeding ourselves. It’s a fucking (sexy) conspiracy and the only way to defeat it is to just give in to it. Which is why I’ve done literally nothing since 9am today other than read fanfiction and reblog shit on Tumblr. Which is why it’s almost 6pm and I’ve only now showered and changed out of my pyjamas. And it’s all because of photos such as this one.
I think 10 years from now people will look at the massive drop in productivity and ask what happened and we’ll be all WELL I STARTED WATCHING SHERLOCK AND SIGNED IN ON TUMBLR IS WHAT HAPPENED while still reblogging Benedict Cumberbatch being hot
It’s almost 1 pm, my house is a toxic waste dump and I’m still in my jammies.
This post is 500 percent true.
i spent till 4 am writing johnlock fanfic and slept until 10:30 during which time i had a bizarre dream about martin freeman and basically rolled out of bed and came straight onto tumblr. it is now 12:45. work? what’s work?
THIS POST IS MY LIFE NOW
Erm, may I have a look at your camera?
Sherlock holding a camera is PORN.
zenman1550 asked: Are you the ocean...or the waves?
definitely the ocean….deep, mysterious, only partially understood.
Central Park in March, 2014
i’m forcing myself to post some personal work online today. so a self-portrait seemed like a good start.
I’m a photographer. A professional photographer. Meaning, people PAY ME TO TAKE PHOTOS OF THEM. I sell my work. It’s a pretty sweet deal, since, even if I worked at the bank or in some office, I’d still be making photographs. Doing what you love—- that’s the dream right?
Then why on Earth is it still so hard for me to share personal work? Clients see the work I do for them, they love it, they rave over it (most of the time), I keep getting more clients, so I must be doing a fairly decent job. My work isn’t horrific. And I love the feedback I get.
But my personal work. The random shit I shoot while driving to the grocery store. Or walking through the park. Or while visiting a big city. Or something in my backyard that caught my eye. Or maybe a project I thought would be a cool thing to explore.
It’s literally painful for me to put it out there.
I’ve been making photographs for over 25 years now. I have literally THOUSANDS of images in boxes, in folders, on hard drives, on disks. Thousands. And some are actually kind of nice.
By now, I thought this part, the sharing, would be easier.