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David Hurn

IRELAND. Killarney. Visually the most Irish part of Ireland. The tradition of Irish dancing is kept very much alive by numerous schools who frequently give demonstrations. 1984.

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when you’ve been gone for a year and your following goes up... thnx guys for believeing in meh <3 <3 <3 

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At this rate, I’ll be able to upgrade my laptop sooner than expected. (: I’m super grateful, especially with a blossoming photography business. Whoop! 

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Reblog if you’re Team Instinct

Reblog here for Team Mystic

Reblog here for Team Valor

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A painter in Los Angeles kept missing his exit for the I-5 on the 110 highway, so he did his research, climbed up the overhead sign, and changed it himself without anyone noticing.

This is Richard Ankrom. He couldn’t find his damn exit, cuz it wasn’t properly labelled.  

So he took life by the balls, like any self-respecting Californian would do, and used his sign-painting expertise to fix it himself.

He called it ‘guerilla public service.’ Even got himself an outfit to look official. It worked, obvi.

Caltrans investigated, but the sign was actually up to code. They left it there for 8 years before they made an updated sign.

Source Source 2

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OH.MY.GOD. 

OneDrive ATE MY PHOTOS and now I’m going to KILL SOMETHING 

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when someone blocks me on fb: Oh thank God.

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When did Irish Dancers start sacrificing carriage for leg height?

I have watched a lot of videos for the Parade of Champions from several Feiseanna and I find a lot of these strong and powerful dancers are bending or arching their back to get that extra height in kicks or lifts. I even see it blatantly in action shots.

Is it just me that feels this way?

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for wandamaixmoff

poem by x

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*acts clueless but actually knows what’s going on at all times*

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A Love Letter to Me at 15

Dear 15-year-old me: 

It’s been four years since all of the major crap went down. Since life hit the high note and the four years before and after dealt with the build-up and fall-out. Since the world seemed so empty of people, so tiny, so bleak.  Four years since and I haven’t thought much about you, as a person. 

I know what you dealt. I know the cards you played and what you played them against. I know your fear and anger and agitation as life keeps stopping you. I know why your grades started slipping, your voice started shrinking, your hope started stopping. But you. Small, tiny, insignificant you: You don’t come to mind very often. 

I want you to know that the loneliness you felt was real. You were alone. Not a soul stuck around, just as you knew, and no one was actually equipped to help you through your pain. That’s real. You just had way too much, even for you, and that’s okay. You did it alone. But even though the world was screaming that you’re never truly alone, you were, and it’s okay. It ends up okay, and you’re better for it. 

I want you to know that trusting people, letting people see the imperfect sides of you, is hard. But it’s not what drove them away. You are neither a dramatic basket case nor a perfect teacher’s pet. Know that. Because the people who get to know you, who you begin to really trust again, will see past the extremes and to you, and they’ll want to walk alongside you while you sort through your history. They will be there because they will love you - your new family is coming. And when they arrive, you will have nothing to fear, because they will be openly messed up from the start so you can gradually break free. 

I want you to know that you will be safe. So safe. That even though you are alone, and you are uncertain, you will be safe. You will prepare what you can for the safety - you will become amazing at householding, at loving others, at managing yourself, so when the time comes for you to break down, you will be able to safely do so. 

Me, age 15 - I love you. I know it’s hard. I know you feel invalidated. I know now, that we’ve touched base, I have to let you go. I have to move on and life for me. To give myself a shot at a better life and world. But you? You happened. And you are loved through it. And you will be safe again, I promise. 

Love, Me, age 19

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i was at a grocery store really late one night and some old guy kind of eyed me as i walked out of the store next to this other lady. She and I made eye contact and i knew she was scared too. we loaded up our groceries into our cars as fast as possible and I had way more bags than her so she got done faster than me. I panicked because i was sure she was going to leave so i just hurried faster, shaking a little, and then i noticed she sat in her car, watching me and making sure nobody came near. She waited not until all my groceries were loaded, or until my cart was put away, or until I got into my car. No, she didn’t drive away until I drove away. 

And that was the moment that I realized how much women need other women. That we can’t win this war without each other and we have to be looking out for each other, every second. 

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Make time for the “I love yous”, the “I appreciate you”, the hugs … and stretch out all the good moments. Leave no room for regrets of kind words left unsaid. Say them daily.

Doe Zantamata (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

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your fave is problematic: anyone but gaston

no one’s slick as gaston

no one’s quick as gaston

no one’s neck is incredibly thick as gaston’s

for there’s no man in town half as manly

perfect a pure paragon