if there was a serial killer in the house you would be royally fucked
Almost peed imagining it.
(Source: angiephalange)
A French Saying…
We say, “It’s raining cats and dogs!”
They say,”It’s raining like a cow pisses!”
Learning this in French class I was confused as hell.
Till I saw a cow piss.
Then it all made sense! xD
Getting sick of it.
I’m a quarter Navajo, registered in the tribe and when I was 15, I was put in foster care and almost got put into the tribe’s care on a Navajo reservation. The only reason why I ended up in Washington is because my father took me and my sisters in.
But when I heard I was probably going onto the rez I cried. I cried big fat wet tears, thin barely there tears, any tear you can think of, I cried it for weeks.
Look, I’m not saying the rez is a horrible place, I had visited my Great grandma Tom many times before. Chased chickens on her farm, tied up sheep to be butchered and even got to watch her cow pee.(There’s a story to this, I’ll post it later) The lore, the noises at night, the skin walkers, the medicine men, the rez was full of magick and wonder in my eyes. It’s probably a big contributor to my choice of religion in fact. xD
But I cried out of fear. Fear that not only did living on the rez open me up to dealing with skin walkers, but it also greatly opened me up to racism. I mostly grew up in a town call Blanding, UT. When I was going through elementary and middle school, because of the heavy influence of the Navajo tribe in the town, I was taken out of normal class once a day(or just had it as one of my other classes in middle school) to go to “Navajo Class”. The point of this class was to teach the Navajo heritage, language and things like that. I hated going. I loved the heritage and hope to one day have a cradle board for my own children, but let me tell you why I hated it. For those of you who don’t know, Navajo is an American Indian tribe. Meaning they are all black haired, brown skinned, high cheek boned, beautiful…well you get the point. I was only a quarter. My mom was brown, but my father was white. The rest of me was Irish, German, Swedish, basically every white skinned origin you could name. So I stuck out like a deer in a pride of lions.
I was teased, made fun of and harassed physically on a daily basis. I got in a school yard fight almost every day throughout all of elementary school through middle school and even a good portion of freshman year. I can honestly say that the worst beating I have ever had was the week every year it seemed our Navajo teacher would go over historical portions about the oppression and down right slaughter of Navajos by the white, such as the trail of tears. I was made out to be a monster because of my skin.
“You’re ancestors killed mine! Now I’m going to kill you!“
“Look who’s all alone in brown country.”
“I bet your only Navajo because of rape.”
“Look at the little white princess, taking the last thing us Navajos held sacred.”
So it’s no real surprise that I was terrified of moving to the rez, where I would be the only beligani for miles. A place where memories of the trail of tears were still very fresh. A place filled with magic, heritage and deep set racism, generations strong.
I posted this just to share why I get so upset when people talk about privilage. Yes, I know white people have it in most circumstances. BUT that doesn’t mean I can’t get discriminated against or that I think people of other colors are automatically lower than me.
I’m just sick of having people bashing me for saying it’s shitty people of color get treated that way. Or having people accuse me of being racist towards them because I’m white skinned. I didn’t choose to be white, I was born this way. I’m not a monster. I don’t see people and judge them by the color of their skin, gender or sexual preference.
And I’m sick of how every time I stand up for a friend of a different skin color, regardless of the situation, I’m a privileged white bitch who doesn’t know shit.
And now I post.
And await the hate for saying white people can be more than monsters.
I was helping my little brother
Where the fuck does jack come from
That’s basically what math is like for the rest of your life.
I love how the answer is at the bottom of the page. And how is any kid suppose to know how many stickers Jack has? Does Tani and Jen give Jack their stickers? I wish I was Jack. My friends never give me stickers.You’re all missing the point. This isn’t math. Rather it’s metaphysics, or the existence of our being. Theoretically speaking, Jack isn’t a person. Jack exists in all of us. We are Jack. Jack is all of us. Every single one of us. In each inept part of our being, our existence, Jack lives. Forgotten and ignored, yet he exists in our never ending subconscious. The question, rather, is how many stickers do we all have?
I am Jack’s twenty-three unsolicited stickers.
OH GOD I NEED THIS BACK FOR THAT ^^
Isn’t 23 the page number?
Yeah, page number is 23….this is baaaaad man, the things kids have to deal with these days.
A moment of silence for the camera man who died for these shots
That poor, brave, man.
(Source: i-m-always-angry)
Via BLIND DOG
“tumblr famous more like tumblr LAMEST”
this is beautiful
YOU KNOW WHO ELSE IS TUMBLR LAMEST
MY MOM
YOU’RE ALL EQUALLY LAME.
NOW GET BACK TO WORK.
MOUNTAIN DEW IN FURSUIT IS THE BEST MOUNTAIN DEW.
It really is.
This is an amazing suit. <3
Cernunnos
I came upon this statue unexpectedly several years ago, and could only stare for several minutes. This captures the inhumanity of the Forest Lord. He is not a man with horns, he is the essence of animals and the wild, with his own kind of consciousness. He is perilous and not One to invoke or to cross lightly.
what would you do if you saw this in the forest?
Crows are smart.
No wonder the people on the res are wary of them.
I wonder if Ravens are smarter?
