lovermother

ENOUGH

schim:

Cats who can’t figure out walls [x]

PLEASE TAKE YOUR CAT TO THE VET IF YOU SEE THEM DOING THIS BEHAVIOR OVER TIME.

It’s called “head pressing” and it occurs in dogs and cats. 

Head pressing is characterized by the compulsive act of pressing the head against a wall or other object for no apparent reason. This generally indicates damage to the nervous system, which may result from a number of varying causes, including prosencephalon disease (in which the forebrain and thalamusparts of the brain are damaged), or toxic poisoning.

http://www.petmd.com/cat/conditions/neurological/c_ct_headpressing

http://www.vet.cornell.edu/FHC/health_resources/toxoplasmosis.cfm (head pressing is listed as a symptom)

http://sevneurology.com/patients/clip-multilobular-osteochondroma (About a dog’s brain tumor but head pressing is listed as a symptom)

(Source: fuckyeahfelines, via bluereverie)

yakisobruh:

fourteen-forty:

Girls skating in the seventies.

Including Laura Thornhill, (mostly), Kim Cespedes, Robin Logan, Ellen-Oneal,

Short shorts, long hair & fancy footwork.

💙💙💙💙

(via girl-inthe-park)

npr8:

This is Camden, my 8-year-old son. He was at the finish last year wearing his “my mom is faster than your dad” T-shirt and holding up the sign he had made me. He never got to see me finish. He was sent off into the crowds full of panic and fear. He listened to the adults he was with and did what he was told. He was brave. He tried blocking his ears but the noise was too loud.
Camden thought his mom was “dead.”
In the months after the bombings last year, I would watch him sleep. It brought me back to the first few weeks he was born, when I would stand by his crib to make sure he was breathing.
Last year, I would stand by his bed and cry, knowing that my brave little man never got to show me the sign he made; knowing my race had put him in harms way; reliving the two hours I spent in silence not knowing if he was safe.
I felt guilt and anger.
Camden won’t be at the finish this year. He said “sorry mom, I just can’t go.” I am running Boston to show Camden that his mom is brave and that, with time, he will be able to go to the Boston Marathon again.
He will be able to see a fire truck without looking scared or watch fireworks without jumping into our laps in a panic. He will be able to sit through a thunderstorm without running for cover.
The thought of him not being at the finish breaks my heart and will open up a new stream of emotions. And I am sure when I get home on April 21st, 2014, I will watch Camden fall asleep and I will cry. Tears of happiness that together we did it!
— Amanda Burgess

npr8:

This is Camden, my 8-year-old son. He was at the finish last year wearing his “my mom is faster than your dad” T-shirt and holding up the sign he had made me. He never got to see me finish. He was sent off into the crowds full of panic and fear. He listened to the adults he was with and did what he was told. He was brave. He tried blocking his ears but the noise was too loud.

Camden thought his mom was “dead.”

In the months after the bombings last year, I would watch him sleep. It brought me back to the first few weeks he was born, when I would stand by his crib to make sure he was breathing.

Last year, I would stand by his bed and cry, knowing that my brave little man never got to show me the sign he made; knowing my race had put him in harms way; reliving the two hours I spent in silence not knowing if he was safe.

I felt guilt and anger.

Camden won’t be at the finish this year. He said “sorry mom, I just can’t go.” I am running Boston to show Camden that his mom is brave and that, with time, he will be able to go to the Boston Marathon again.

He will be able to see a fire truck without looking scared or watch fireworks without jumping into our laps in a panic. He will be able to sit through a thunderstorm without running for cover.

The thought of him not being at the finish breaks my heart and will open up a new stream of emotions. And I am sure when I get home on April 21st, 2014, I will watch Camden fall asleep and I will cry. Tears of happiness that together we did it!

— Amanda Burgess

(via npr)

Think about the first name you were ever called,
and then think how long it took until
you got called a pussy
or a slut,
or a bitch,
or a whore,
all of which are words that fall too close to ‘girl.’

Think about the first time you got called a ‘girl’
and they said it with a sneer.
Like it was a bad thing.

For a boy, it is the lowest degradation to get called a girl.
For a girl, it is the lowest degradation to get called a girl.

Remember, black widow spiders and female praying mantises eat their partners after intercourse.
Remember, it’s the lionesses who hunt.
They come back with bloody muzzles, dragging bloated carcasses as the alpha lion strides around with his mane puffing out.
Remember, it’s only the female mosquitoes who drink blood.
We’re the ones who do the necessary work, dirty our hands,
fuck or fight or both.
We’re often the smaller sex, which makes us a harder target
as we slink close and sink our teeth in.

Remember: we’re deadly.

You should be proud to be called a girl.

Most Female Killers Use Poison (via dylanludwig)

(Source: theappleppielifestyle, via eine-schoene-schrecklichkeit)

tripleletterscg asked: Congratulations on your new place. Wish you the best!!

Thank you.