life is tough
life goes on
(via fyhignfy)
THE INANE RAMBLINGS OF A ROMANTIC B.P. KIDULT
likes: tea, forests, the night sky, adventures, sleep & the sea
dislikes: panic attacks, dubstep, eggs, coffee & jetlag
twitter: phoebe_be_
might make this my anthem or something.
I will always channel a bit of Rizzo, usually in the eyebrows/attitude region, though one day I’d love to be brave and go full on pixie crop.
She is quite wonderful. Bit of a slut, but still wonderful. AND she has the best song in Grease.
I’ve made some cupcakes for my Jubilee party tomorrow.
I’m so excited!!
(Source: Spotify)
(Source: psykzz, via pitchpatch)
I don’t like it when my Dad is drunk and calls me. It’s so hard to get out of the call once it’s started, hanging up just seems so severe. I wish he would get his life together and stop projecting all his fucking issues on me and my brother. I have just come to the end of my degree and my brother is about to start his, we’re both experiencing a lot of changes and our Dad just waltzes about as if we should drop everything and just be at his beck and call, that we should find his sexist, racist, rude jokes funny, that we should be OK about the fact that he’s moving to China leaving us to sit on the outside of the family looking in.
My father is a manipulative, difficult, stubborn, atrocious man who I struggle to love and it hurts so much to be on the receiving end of all his bull shit about the string of women he’s seeing or wants to be seeing. I don’t want to be told about his sordid affairs with married women, an affair broke up my parents marriage when I was 2 years old and then broke his second marriage up when my brother was 1. How he can even consider playing a part in someone elses marriage break down is beyond me. And no, at no point will I ever give a shit about this woman. Of course I am sad to hear that someone on the planet has been diagnosed with cancer, but that is where my interest and emotions end. I will not speak to her, no matter how much you have told her about me. And please, for the love of God, do not joke about my mothers marriage to my step dad. In fact, don’t joke about my mother.
I always hated that I am half him, but I have come to realise that I am, in fact, wholly me and not half Mum, half Dad. My eyes are green, his are brown, Mums are blue. His hair was black, Mums is blonde, I’m brunette/ginger. I love it when people say I look like my Mum, I love it even more when people draw comparisons to me and my step dad (we have very similar mannerisms) but my stomach drops and my eyes sting with hot tears when someone says “gosh, you look just like your father”.
Shit. I care for him, I’m worried for him. That is it.
It’s exercise time, everyone!
MATT BERRY YOU’RE MY HERO!
(Source: mylittleczechself, via skippingismagnificent)
JUST BOOKED MY TICKETS FOR MOONRISE KINGDOM
bring on the Wes
so University is all done. That’s it. No more essays. No more last minute bibliographies. No more lectures. No more polite conversation with course mates I don’t care for. No more class room based laughs with the ones I care for.
Now my summer really begins and I’m planning on being selfish as possible. Not in a bad way, but I’m going to do what I want to do. I have a month and a half of work lined up from mid-July but until then I have nothing to do apart from explore stuff!
So today I’m going to compile a list of things in London that I want to do and see. Then I’ll tick things off. And it will be wonderful.
(Source: leahhkaye, via pocketsizedhappiness)
There is no one more perfect than Taylor Hanson in this video.
That boy has some serious moves.
hell, they all look incredible.
I want to punch my essay in the dick.
In a matter of hours my time at university will be over completely. I just need to pull about 500 words out of my arse but I just can’t. I’m brain dead. I have nothing left.
HELP.
