Willst du mitkommen?



I could sit here and ramble on about my self but that would bore even the most forbearing of us. But allow me to bring you up to speed. I'm just starting to figure out this business most call family -In doing so I've met some pretty amazing people along the way. Come join me as I awkwardly navigate through this conundrum known as life finding family, friends, and a home while trying not to be arrested, lost, or killed in Deutschland. Still learning deutsch alongside my man Ludwig. Let's watch and see what happens -Wir wollen gehen!


MidnightLover by the-moonlight-fashion for Tumblr

birdarangs:

fishfronds:

7u7:

My favorite genre is “starts out normal but then turns into really disturbing psychological horror”

image

"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance." 


— Oscar Wilde (via aquaticwonder)

(via quote-book)


Vertigo by Anne Stevenson

Vertigo by Anne Stevenson

(Source: risingoceans)

climateadaptation:

Some much needed inspiration.

theatlanticvideo:

A Manifesto for Living a Creative Life (Also, a Stunning Surf Video)

Mickey Smith’s Dark Side of the Lens is a meditation on his work as a surf photographer, passion, and doing what you love.

So much to love about this

"Consider it: every person you have ever met, every person will suffer the loss of his friends and family. All are going to lose everything they love in this world. Why would one want to be anything but kind to them in the meantime?" 


Sam Harris  (via julie911)

(via quote-book)

I’m sorry, what?

From being all draped over the couch Caz calls in from the living room like

“Hey, man, you ever feel like you’re waldeinsamkeit and your phone is dead?”

I just spent ten minuets looking it up. Waldeinsamkeit?

Actually, now that you mention it…. I do.

I am waldeinsamkeit with a dead phone.

And I ain’t talkin’ like a tiny patch of trees in your back yard. I’m talking like NATIONAL PARK WILD FOREST WALDEINSAMKEIT! With like a broke ass AT&T bag phone that’s got like 2% left, and it’s getting dark, and even though it’s the middle of June snow is starting to fall, and I hear a pack of wolves in the distance, and I didn’t eat that day, and somehow there’s thunder headed my way….

That. ALL THAT. I am feeling very waldeinsamkeit.

Dear Life,

can I be good at ONE thing?

please?

cock-juggling-thundercunt:

angstyteenblawgger:

stripesandteeth:

alyssaties:

kylobe:

mrs—-brightside:

staaaywithme:

mmarisaa:

mandimorphine:

bonersauruson:

paula266:

isayrather:

“The Egg” by Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.






Will always reblog this. It’s probably my favorite thing in the universe. 

w h a t

if everyone is me, & i hate everybody, then that’s why i hate myself ._.








Love this.

And every time you fucked someone, you fucked yourself.


I like this so much!

cock-juggling-thundercunt:

angstyteenblawgger:

stripesandteeth:

alyssaties:

kylobe:

mrs—-brightside:

staaaywithme:

mmarisaa:

mandimorphine:

bonersauruson:

paula266:

isayrather:

“The Egg” by Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.

Will always reblog this. It’s probably my favorite thing in the universe. 

w h a t

if everyone is me, & i hate everybody, then that’s why i hate myself ._.

Love this.

And every time you fucked someone, you fucked yourself.

I like this so much!

(via cock-juggling-thundercunt-deact)

  •  Before I can even manage a hello
  • Sam: MOOOOOM JESUS CHRIST MOM! MOM! MOOOOOM! WE'RE FUCKING BACK! WE'RE GETTING SHIPPED BACK! ALSKDNG;ALSJKDBNGH;ALJWE *insert more deep Mississippi jibberish I can't understand* ...MOM? YOU THERE MOM?
  • Me: Scotty...
  • Scott: Yes ma'am?
  • Me: Where are they shipping you home to.
  • Scott: Atlanta, ma'am.
  • Me: Stop calling me ma-
  • Sam: MOM! MOM, YOU'RE STILL IN GA RIGHT? RIGHT MOM?! WE'RE ALMOST IN GA MOM!
  • Me: ...yes Sam... I'm still in Ga.
  • Simon: Who's that?
  • Me: *completely numb* S-Simon... can we move to Canada?

Hey, Life, remember how you killed the 1990’s and started this endless nightmare hailstorm called the 2000’s?

Wanna, you know, maybe stop making me lose people? I kinda like having friends near by.

Oh, and stop being such a hanus bitch. Seriously, no body like that.

"You’ve made the fatal mistake; you looked off the path. You haven’t seen what’s at the end of the path but you’ve seen things that aren’t on the path, that don’t follow order, that are expected.You could venture off the path -it’s your decision, but you’re scared. There could be snakes out there, or wolves. You know on the path you’ll survive, but you don’t know what would happen off the path. The question you should ask is this: would you rather live or survive?" 


Iakov (every time I ask him for advise he answers me in something like this. So I spend days thinking about it)
MidnightLover by the-moonlight-fashion for Tumblr