Christian Dior spring 2012 couture behind the scenes
Depression is hard to understand, because it is not a consistent state. Depression is rather like a virus, but like a virus, it has its manageable days and its acute, life-threatening flare-ups. You can be in a depression and still laugh at a friend’s joke or have a good night at dinner or manage low-level functioning. You grocery shop and stop to pet a puppy on the corner, talk to friends in a café, maybe write something you don’t hate. When this happens, you might examine your day for clues like reading tea leaves in a cup: Was it the egg for breakfast that made the difference? The three-mile run? You think, well, maybe this thing has moved on now. And you make no sudden moves for fear of attracting its abusive attention again.
But other times…
Other times, it’s as if a hole is opening inside you, wider and wider, pressing against your lungs, pushing your internal organs into unnatural places, and you cannot draw a true breath. You are breaking inside, slowly, and everything that keeps you tethered to your life, all of your normal responses, is being sucked through the hole like an airlock emptying into space. These are the times Holly Golightly called the Mean Reds.
I call it White Knuckling it."
"But the stigma of depression is that it comes with the sense that you shouldn’t have it to begin with. That it is self-indulgence or emotional incompetence rather than actual illness."
i am seriously all about this zine. I want to make zines all day forever. maybe this is a sign that I should actually try making a comic, since the processes are similar.
i really just needed to preserve thsi for posterity because i keep thinking about it and laughing this was prompted by a discussion about bear grylls i dont’ know
Gordon Ramsay is my favorite.
i just want to hug all of them
Fun story. I cooked for this dude, once. I did my kitchen apprenticeship at the family-style restaurant of one of New Zealand’s premiere chefs, and he knew Ramsay really well. He was in New Zealand for a few weeks, and Martin brought him by the restaurant to check it out. It was right on the beach, fucking gorgeous. I was the only one there (apprentice = bitch work = 4am starting shifts), and they asked me to whip up some breakfast for them. It was SUPER simple, fried fish, eggs cooked in bread, sausages. He was incredibly gracious and kind, asked me to join them (I couldn’t, too much work to do, so they sat at the kitchen window so they could talk to me), and was super interested in hearing about my english grandma, who had taught me how to cook. I won’t hear a single bad word against this man, for all of his kitchen hysterics, he treated me like an equal.
i dont get why people say ‘tea is just leaf water’ and then act like coffee’s so great like what do u think you’re drinking. bean water is what
Art dump part 4
okay story time
so my art teacher assigned us to do a chalk pastel still life of fruits n shit and I was like “no”
so I drew a banana instead.
and my teacher came by like “you need to have more than one fruit in your still life”
so I was like “k”
and so I put that cherry on top of the banana and titled it “Banana Split Without The Ice Cream Because Life Is Full Of Disappointments: By Fall Out Boy" and I turned that shit in.
My art teacher just started laughing out loud in the middle of class