findingzahri

[findingzahri]

This little cuddle bug is my world. She has changed our lives from the moment @kleadus_ohurley3 and I agreed to adopt her. She can be a stubborn handful at times but she can turn your day around with a slobbery kiss. 🐶❤😁 #dogsofinstagram #pitskiesofinstagram #yarathepitsky #puppylove

[findingzahri]

笹の葉コインケース 一枚の笹の葉を折って作ったかのようなコインケースです。中に入っているのはお寿司でもお餅でもありません、お金です。瑞々しい緑が、これからの季節にちょっと涼しげでいいじゃないですか。

Bamboo leaf coin purse A coin purse designed to look like it is made from a single blade of bamboo grass. Inside you will not find sushi or rice cakes but coins. Lush green coin purse with a hint of coolness.

[findingzahri]

Gentle and Heartwarming Animal Illustrations By Sydney Hanson

Artist Sydney Hanson transforms wild animals into adorable illustrations drawn as gentle and vulnerable creatures with soft fur and endearingly large eyes engaged in tender scenes. Expressions of curiosity, joy, and contentment on Hanson’s characters mirrors the love of animals she embraces.

Guinea pigs, bunny, bats and donkeys, foxes and other wild creatures become heartfelt drawings that portray the tamed and innocent side of the wilderness. Hanson’s illustrative style is remarkably compassionate and draws the familiarity of children’s novels and fairy tale to warm our hearts further to her cute animals. Find them in their Etsy shop.

View similar posts here!

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The Jack Daniels Hell Train just tore through walmart and ruined my shopping experience

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Daisy Ridley practicing with a light saber.

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Phyllis Webstad was six-years-old when the new orange shirt she excitedly chose for her first day of school was stripped off her back. She never saw it again.

It was the early ‘70s and Webstad was the third generation of her family to attend St. Joseph’s Residential School in Williams Lake, B.C. Most people knew it as The Mission.

She was a kid. She didn’t know that merely being born an indigenous child surrendered her to an education system designed to break down her identity.

“The colour orange has always reminded me of that and how my feelings didn’t matter, how no one cared and how I felt like I was worth nothing,” she said in a statement. “All of us little children were crying and no one cared.”

From the 1880s until the last school shut down in 1996, Canada’s residential school system forced about 150,000 First Nations, Inuit and Metis children to attend church-run facilities that aimed to “take the Indian out of the child.”

The students faced widespread neglect and abuse in the schools, which was examined by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that released a report with 94 recommendations earlier this year.

It took Webstad 40 years to find a way to re-frame her experience to fight racism and bullying under the motto “every child matters” — and by using orange.

On Sept. 30, 2013, Webstad organized the first Orange Shirt Day in Williams Lake to acknowledge the harm that Canada’s residential school system has left in generations of indigenous families and their communities.

And every year on Sept. 30, Canadians are asked to wear orange as a sign of support.

“When I was in school, I didn’t know my own history,” Webstad explained in a video.

She said she is now “overjoyed” by the growing number of people participating in the event each year, from schools to reserves to businesses.

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[findingzahri]

Things my brother has said to me since I’ve come out

Bro: You can’t say you’re pan if you’ve only dated cis-boys Jess..

Me: Then you can’t say you’re straight since you’ve never had a girlfriend

Bro: touche…

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Bro: so you like girls?

Me: yep

Bro: so youre gonna get a girlfriend?

Me: maybe

Bro: NOW I GOTTA COMPETE AGAINST YOU TOO?? 

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Bro: wanna bet on who kisses a girl first?

Me: sure… $10?

Bro: okay

Me: sweet…cough up the money because i already kissed three

Bro: WHAT?? WHO?? you whore…No but seriously who because we only have like 2 lesbians in our school….

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Bro: I SWEAR TO GOD IF I HEAR ONE MORE PUN ABOUT YOU AND KITCHENWEAR IM KILLING YOU

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Brothers friend: so your sister is pan?

Bro: yeah?

Friend: what’s that?

Bro: basically she’ll date anyone

Friend: think she’ll date me?

Bro: ew no, dude she has standered still..

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Bro: so…how was narnia?

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Mother: i dont want you going to (insert friend)’s house because you’re pan and they are too

Bro: shes 18 mom AND you had no problem with it before jess was out

Mother: yeah but-

Bro: and they’re both girls so its not like even if something DID happen she wouldn’t get pregnant or anything

Mother: yeah but-

Bro: just let her hang out with the one friend she still has

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Bro: *is complaning about something* Thats so ga- OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY IT SLIPPED

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Bro: *shows me a picture of a girl* do you think shes hot?

Me: ew no

Bro: I AM TRYING TO GET YOU A GIRLFRIEND STOP BEING PICKY WOMAN WE LIVE IN THE MIDDLE OF NO WHERE THERE ARENT THAT MANY OPTIONS 

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Me: *is complaining to my brother about this dude on campus* -anyways hes so not my type

Mother: but youre pan and ‘youre attracted to everyone regardless of gender’ so you dont have a type

Bro: thats like saying because i’m straight i like every girl mom…she can be pan and have types you limp lettuce

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Bro: do you think grandma will freak out when she finds out you’re queer?

Me: hopefully

Bro: sweet…..can i tell her??

Me: no?

Bro: dammit…

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Bro: *is playing COD online in his room* Guys seriously stop saying the F slur

Bro: Seriously i dont care about your kill streak, i will shoot you

Bro: NO SCOPE! I warned you!

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Bro: you know what my favorite part of you being pan is?

Me: what?

Bro: you’re no longer grandmas favorite…now i get all the money/food

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Bro: aw fuck

Me: what?

Bro: what if you get a girlfriend one day and she breaks your heart? i can’t punch a girl! 

Me: no thats okay-

Bro: HOW WILL I DEFEND YOUR HONOR???

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Holy shit

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This liquid is boiling and freezing simultaneously because it’s reaching its ‘triple point,’ which is the temperature and pressure at which three phases of a substance (gas, liquid, and solid) co-exist in equilibrium. Source

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hayley kiyoko is about to drop the gayest album known to man. legends only.

[findingzahri]

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, Please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she Did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, Sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used— She stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and Would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and Found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering Questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag— And was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers— Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands— Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped —has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

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Chynara Madinkulova (long hair) and Aida Akmatova (bun) compete in the “Traditional Archery” category at the World Nomad games in Kyrgyzstan, which concluded last week.

Said games also include eagle hunting, horseback wrestling, and setting people on fire. Also this game where you chuck javelins at people to knock them off their horse.

Clearly the Olympics needs to step it up.

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Saufeeya bint Goodson, Dubai

IG: https://www.instagram.com/feeeeya/

Blog: http://www.feeeeya.com/

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im crying

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Can you imagine the reaction 10 years from now, when Formation comes on the radio?? I’ll probably jump out my skin

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MEET THE FABRIC FOR MY NEW BAG