Cockeyed Optimist
With being prone to laughter, having undying love for geekery and musicals, and living in a utopian's dream, I guess you could say I'm sort of odd. But I'm me.

And if you want to ask any questions or anything please just type in /ask after my url...for some odd reason there is no available ask button for this theme! : )
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sofie-joe-hurtis:

The man, whom I will love a long time

sofie-joe-hurtis:

The man, whom I will love a long time

  4:59 pm, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 28 notes ]



There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.


And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.

There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.

And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.

In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.

The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.

(Source: thegodmolecule)

  11:32 pm, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 40,076 notes ]


  8:08 pm, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 142,768 notes ]


  8:05 pm, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 79,137 notes ]


firelordazula:

“Every Every Every Generation Has Been The Me Me Me Generation” by Elspeth Reeve for The Atlantic Wire

Millennials are the “ME ME ME GENERATION,” writes Joel Stein for Time magazine’s new cover story out today — which makes him only the latest culture writer in the last century or so to declare the youth self-obsessed little monsters.

firelordazula:

Every Every Every Generation Has Been The Me Me Me Generation” by Elspeth Reeve for The Atlantic Wire

Millennials are the “ME ME ME GENERATION,” writes Joel Stein for Time magazine’s new cover story out today — which makes him only the latest culture writer in the last century or so to declare the youth self-obsessed little monsters.

  8:03 pm, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 2,356 notes ]


perfectlyquaint:

justnotindie:

goldcoastfamily:

“If there is no ups and downs, it means that you are dead” 

I just saw this without the picture and realized the deeper meaning…

I will never get over this

Really puts things in perspective. 

perfectlyquaint:

justnotindie:

goldcoastfamily:

“If there is no ups and downs, it means that you are dead” 

I just saw this without the picture and realized the deeper meaning…

I will never get over this

Really puts things in perspective. 

(Source: whatmeansxoxo)

  1:38 am, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 405,698 notes ]


ronweasley:

the way it should be, famous songs from animated movies performed in the language of the place the stories are set in or the character’s mother tongue {listen}

i. hellfire (the hunchback of notre dame) - french; ii. once upon a december (anastasia) - russian; iii. a whole new world (aladdin) - arabic; iv. bare necessities (the jungle book) - hindi; v. i see the light (tangled) - german; vi. can you feel the love tonight? (the lion king) - zulu; vii. i’ve got no strings (pinocchio) - italian; viii. i won’t say i’m in love (hercules) - greek; ix. it’s tough to be a god (the road to el dorado) - spanish; x. under the sea (the little mermaid) - danish; xi. i’ll make a man out of you (mulan) - mandarin; xii. when you believe (the prince of egypt) - hebrew

ronweasley:

the way it should be, famous songs from animated movies performed in the language of the place the stories are set in or the character’s mother tongue {listen}

i. hellfire (the hunchback of notre dame) - french; ii. once upon a december (anastasia) - russian; iii. a whole new world (aladdin) - arabic; iv. bare necessities (the jungle book) - hindi; v. i see the light (tangled) - german; vi. can you feel the love tonight? (the lion king) - zulu; vii. i’ve got no strings (pinocchio) - italian; viii. i won’t say i’m in love (hercules) - greek; ix. it’s tough to be a god (the road to el dorado) - spanish; x. under the sea (the little mermaid) - danish; xi. i’ll make a man out of you (mulan) - mandarin; xii. when you believe (the prince of egypt) - hebrew

  1:35 am, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 11,603 notes ]


poorphraser:

She’s not a straight A student
and I mean that as a compliment
She’s excellent at Sciences
but don’t know who Lord Byron is
or what a semi colon’s for
or how to paint or how to draw
but that’s okay, she needn’t fret
I’ve never met a genius yet
who was good at…

  1:32 am, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 154 notes ]


theshelbylife:

incestuous-lesbianponies:

laurarw:

image

I THOUGHT THIS WAS KIDDING SOGMLASG


HOLY SHIT

(Source: dont-blink-korra)

  1:07 pm, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 288,470 notes ]


Sometimes we don’t thank our friends enough — for being there, for loving us, for being able to exist in the sidelines because of distance or schedules but come back into our lives with full force when the opportunity arrives. Our real friends, whose love and humor can lie dormant for stretches but doesn’t simply die, often go unappreciated. We owe them so much, and they are such a huge part of who we are, but we can often forget that as we construct our own lives. And we’ll surely make new friends as we grow — and are done stumbling into adulthood and everything that comes with it — but they won’t be a replacement, and we shouldn’t forget that. We owe it to ourselves to thank the people who have been there for us, and who remind us that we’ll always be worth more than just a handshake and an empty “We should grab a coffee soon.
  1:06 pm, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 2,352 notes ]


futurefirstlady:

ok
  6:57 pm, reblogged  by chickadee-t, [ 177,844 notes ]