it's a complicated love/hate thing...

because simple is too easy.

about me  
ask me what?

the5ftwonder:

Omg…

(Source: peppelepeuw)

(Source: iraffiruse)

mermaidskey:

hemipelagicdredger:

mermaidskey:

mermaidskey:

oxidoreductase:

Lavoisier is having none of your shit.

Heeeey so fun fact: the woman in that painting is Lavoisier’s wife, Marie-Anne Pierrette Paulze, who not only acted as Lavoisier’s lab assistant but also translated English and Latin texts into French so he could read them. But she didn’t just translate, she pointed out errors in the chemistry in some of the texts. Her observations of these errors convinced Lavoisier to study combustion, which led to his discovery of oxygen. She was also critical to the publication of Lavoisier’s Elementary Treatise on Chemistry in 1789. She kept strict records of every experiment they conducted together and drew detailed diagrams of all their equipment. She also threw amazing parties and invited all the brightest minds in science so her husband could pick their brains. After Lavoisier was guillotined she secured all of his notebooks and equipment for posterity.
In short: NOBODY KICKS MADAME LAVOISIER OUT OF THE LAB.

Also, a side note: My historian husband-to-be pointed some things out to me about this painting. Notice that Madame Lavoisier is looking at the viewer, and all the light is on her, while Lavoisier himself is physically smaller than her, in shadow, and looking up to her in reverence. This isn’t a candid photograph- all of these choices are deliberate. The painting isn’t of Lavoisier- Madame Lavoisier is meant to be the central subject. 
I can just imagine Lavoisier telling all his colleagues that his wife is really the one with all the clever ideas, and them patting him on the back and telling him he’s sweet for saying so.

more like


I LOVE IT

mermaidskey:

hemipelagicdredger:

mermaidskey:

mermaidskey:

oxidoreductase:

Lavoisier is having none of your shit.

Heeeey so fun fact: the woman in that painting is Lavoisier’s wife, Marie-Anne Pierrette Paulze, who not only acted as Lavoisier’s lab assistant but also translated English and Latin texts into French so he could read them. But she didn’t just translate, she pointed out errors in the chemistry in some of the texts. Her observations of these errors convinced Lavoisier to study combustion, which led to his discovery of oxygen. She was also critical to the publication of Lavoisier’s Elementary Treatise on Chemistry in 1789. She kept strict records of every experiment they conducted together and drew detailed diagrams of all their equipment. She also threw amazing parties and invited all the brightest minds in science so her husband could pick their brains. After Lavoisier was guillotined she secured all of his notebooks and equipment for posterity.

In short: NOBODY KICKS MADAME LAVOISIER OUT OF THE LAB.

Also, a side note: My historian husband-to-be pointed some things out to me about this painting. Notice that Madame Lavoisier is looking at the viewer, and all the light is on her, while Lavoisier himself is physically smaller than her, in shadow, and looking up to her in reverence. This isn’t a candid photograph- all of these choices are deliberate. The painting isn’t of Lavoisier- Madame Lavoisier is meant to be the central subject. 

I can just imagine Lavoisier telling all his colleagues that his wife is really the one with all the clever ideas, and them patting him on the back and telling him he’s sweet for saying so.

more like

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I LOVE IT

I’m not sure why people dislike receiving drunk texts. you’re the only person they’re thinking of when their brain can’t function properly

unknown (via handcrafted-in-germany)

brothasoul:

inside Rust’s storage locker

(Source: presidentbear)

#urgh. Give me back my #streetview of #Paris from my #hotel #gardettepark #saintambroise #boulevardvoltaire #france

(Source: theroomisonfiree)

mccoydarling said: Please talk forever about Helen and ancient greek you are so enpoint

elucipher:

in the iliad helen speaks the last lament for hector. the only man in troy who showed her kindness is slain—and now, helen says, πάντες δέ με πεφρίκασιν, all men shudder at me. she doesn’t speak in the iliiad again.

homer isn’t cruel to helen; her story is cruel enough. in the conjectured era of the trojan war, women are mothers by twelve, grandmothers by twenty-four, and buried by thirty. the lineage of mycenaean families passes through daughters: royal women are kingmakers, and command a little power, but they are bartered like jewels (the iliad speaks again and again of helen and all her wealth). helen is the most beautiful woman in the world, golden with kharis, the seductive grace that arouses desire. she is coveted by men beyond all reason. after she is seized by paris and compelled by aphrodite to love him against her will—in other writings of the myth, she loves him freely—she is never out of danger.

the helen of the iliad is clever and powerful and capricious and kind and melancholy: full of fury toward paris and aphrodite, longing for sparta and its women, fear for her own life. she condemns herself before others can. in book vi, as war blazes and roars below them, helen tells hector, on us the gods have set an evil destiny: that we should be a singer’s theme for generations to come—as if she knows that, in the centuries after, men will rarely write of paris’ vanity and hubris and lust, his violation of the sacred guest-pact, his refusal to relent and avoid war with the achaeans. instead they’ll write and paint the beautiful, perfidious, ruinous woman whose hands are red with the blood of men, and call her not queen of sparta but helen of troy: a forced marriage to the city that desired and hated her. she is an eidolon made of want and rapture and dread and resentment.

homer doesn’t condemn helen—and in the odyssey she’s seen reconciled with menelaus. she’s worshipped in sparta as a symbol of sexual power for centuries, until the end of roman rule: pausanias writes that pilgrims come to see the remains of her birth-egg, hung from the roof of a temple in the spartan acropolis; spartan girls dance and sing songs praising one another’s beauty and strength as part of rites of passage, leading them from parthenos to nýmphē, virgin to bride. cults of helen appear across greece, italy, turkey—as far as palestine—celebrating her shining beauty; they sacrifice to her as if she were a goddess. much of this is quickly forgotten. 

every age finds new words to hate helen, but they are old ways of hating: deceiver and scandal and insatiate whore. she is euripides’ bitchwhore and hesiod’s kalon kakon (“beautiful evil”) and clement of alexandria’s adulterous beauty and whore and shakespeare’s strumpet and proctor’s trull and flurt of whoredom and schiller’s pricktease and levin’s adulterous witch. her lusts damned a golden world to die, they say. pandora’s box lies between a woman’s thighs. helen is a symbol of how men’s desire for women becomes the evidence by which women are condemned, abused, reviled.  

but no cage of words can hold her fast. she is elusive; she yields nothing. she has outlasted civilisations, and is beautiful still. before troy is ash and ruin she has already heard all the slander of the centuries; and at last she turns her face away—as if to say: i am not for you

Tag You’re It!

i was Tagged by yesij :)

fill in the blanks & tag 6 people
i tag the5ftwonder, maybeyoullremember, yessplznoideawhatiisdoing, eyeandclaw, & binkshapiro (If you don’t like these chain things I apologise for the tag!)

Basics… 
1. Name – George
2. Birthday – Jan 16
3. Favourite number(s) – 6
4. Height – 5’ 10” or 5’11” i think?
5. Talents – making loud noises, breaking awkward silences, making people laugh, and always able to get people into a d&m.
6. Can you juggle? - nope.
7. Art/Sports/Both – Love team sports - was a pretty good goalkeeper in football in high school; never really very arty, but would love to learn an instrument.
8. Do you like writing? – too much.
9. Do you like dancing? – yep. even more when I’ve had something to drink.
10. Do you like singing? – affirmative. especially everywhere.

Fantasize…
1. Dream vacation – European getaway.
2. Dream guy/gal – my gf (sorry people, i know that’s a gross answer but can i still get a high-five?)
3. Dream wedding – haven’t really put that much thought into it except for the fact I already know who I’m going to marry and I know who I want to be there.

4. Dream pet – a labradoodle. but for know, my gf’s two devon rex’s will do.
5. Dream job – writer. any type really, history, biography, fiction, travel. anything.


1. Favourite song – too hard. but the song with the most plays in iTunes is Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez.
2. Favourite Album – Shit. Straight off the top of my head, Is This It by The Strokes.
3. Last song you’ve heard on the radio – been a while since i’ve listened to the radio. last iTunes song was Come Alive by Chromeo & Toro Y Moi.
4. Least favourite song – Friday.
5. Least favourite album – Nope - don’t know because if I don’t listen to a song, i won’t listen to the album.
6. Least favourite artist – nope.

Preference….
1. Guys/Girls/Both – Girls.
2. Hair colour – Black or brown.
3. Eye colour – Any.
4. Humorous/serious? - Gotta be a bit of both.
5. Taller/Shorter – Meh.
6. Biggest turn off – Doesn’t smile.
7. Biggest turn on – being romantic.

meggygrace:

Banksy

meggygrace:

Banksy

(Source: music-n-ting)

(Source: archatlas)

youdeanatsix:

When I’m home alone it’s a choice of:

  1. Take selfies all around the house.
  2. Masturbate.
  3. Eat everything

Or all of the above.

bagmilk:

when your waiter comes out with food but it’s for another table

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(Source: heteroh)

science-and-coke:

oddbagel:

eggito:

BOOBS ARE LITERALLY LUMPS WITH SMALLER LUMPS ON TOP WHAT IS SO SEXUALLY ATTRACTIVE ABOUT A LUMP!!!!

What is sexually attractive about any human body part really? Penises are just tubes with lumps connected to them. Asses are also just lumps. Your face is just a collection of different types of lumps and there’s a hole on it. Everything is just a lump. I can’t get off to this. Now, a rhombus, that’s something I could fuck the shit out of.

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