16 10 / 2014

This is how I remember you Mariz.

You and your sister were just a tiny bundle of fur inside that carton box.  There was sunlight. It was Sunday.

I was not crowing for joy. Because I’ve had enough trouble with Maricoy and our two male dogs.

But I loved you two all the same.

You are so tiny. Smaller than Jao when he was a just a month-old puppy. Smaller than your sister.

You two were scruffy, with rough patches of fur. Not like the smooth golden coat of Jao. Saffron doesn’t even have fur halfway on her tail. And you didn’t even have a tail.

But you and Saffron were lovely.

That same evening, I bought infant formula milk for you two. And I was so, so worried how would you two cope inside that carton box. You and Saffron constantly cried.

Then I looked up on the internet and was horrified to know that dogs were lactose intolerant.

So on a sleepy Monday morning, I forced myself to get out of the house early in search of dog milk. I had to drop by two pet clinics (and also learned infant formula is okay for dogs). When I arrived back home, you and your sister were so ravenous.

Later that day, it was obvious the carton box was no longer serving you two well. I remember how you were able to climb out of the box (while Saffron cried because she was stuck there heh) several times.

On my birthday, I worried so much at the thought of you two moving out of the house. But then my father constructed a cage for you two.

Then the day after, I realized you were nursing a cold. So that was where that squeaky cough came from.

It was pure faith to hope that you’ll get better. That your cold will be gone.

But even if you looked mobile and alert, your cold never went away.

These are the things I’ll remember when I think of you:

You ventured out into the garage alone, even without your sister.

You were brave to face Jao head-on. Even if he was play biting your neck to assert his dominance.

The marks in your skin wouldn’t fade away so easily.

You had a weird patch on the top of your head.

I never thought bathing you was a good idea. And I wish I hadn’t done so. But I did what I could do to make sure your foray in the water wasn’t as shocking to your body.

You cried and whined when I was tending to Saffron after she fell. 

The black and white patterns on your fur.

How you two felt when I scooped you and Saffron up in my arms and carried you two back in the cage.

When you cry because Saffron is playing rough with you.

When you hack up your cough.

The smell of milk.

Your heart always beat so fast.

Your eyes.

 

I touched you for the last time this morning.

I was about to leave for work. I lingered longer than I had planned.

Some part of me will always wonder if you could still be here today, if I didn’t go to work. If I took you to the vet. If I went home earlier than usual. If I went by what my instincts had told me already.

But what I know is that I will always miss you.

I’m sorry that I can’t see you grow. That you and Saffron won’t grow together. But my dear Mariz, we love you and we’ll remember.

 

Rest well, my dear.

28 9 / 2014

wuphanpls:

Harry inherits 2156165102412165412165 galleons and is the richest and strongest and most powerful wizard to ever live without having to work for any of it. 

Really fucking tired of fics like this.

(Source: skelephonpls)

27 9 / 2014

08 9 / 2014

vintagegal:

Shell Grotto at Margate 

The Shell Grotto is an ornate subterranean passageway in MargateKent. Almost all the surface area of the walls and roof is covered in mosaics created entirely of seashells, totalling about 2,000 square feet (190 m2) of mosaic, or 4.6 million shells.

The Grotto’s discovery in 1835 came as a complete surprise to the people of Margate; it had never been marked on any map and there had been no tales of its construction told around the town. But James Newlove could clearly see the commercial potential of his find and he immediately set about preparations to open the Grotto up to the public.

The first paying customers descended the chalk stairway in 1837 and debate has raged about the Grotto’s origins ever since: for every expert who believes it to be an ancient temple, there’s someone else convinced it was the meeting place for a secret sect; for every ardent pagan, there’s a Regency folly-monger ready to spoil their fun. At first glance the Grotto’s design only adds to the confusion, with humble cockles, whelks, mussels and oysters creating a swirling profusion of patterns and symbols. There are trees of life, phalluses, gods, goddesses and something that looks very like an altar.


The most recent findings point to the Grotto functioning as a sun temple, the sun entering the Dome (which extends up to ground level, with a small circular opening) just before the Spring Equinox, forming a dramatic alignment at midday on the Summer Solstice and departing just after the Autumn Equinox, thus indicating the fertile season. 

However, there’s only one fact about the Grotto that is indisputable: that it is a unique work of art that should be valued and preserved, whatever its age or origins.

(sources: 1, 2)

(via maggie-stiefvater)

07 9 / 2014

ohelrond:

I’ve seen a few posts about Galadriel and Celeborn’s relationship (this time less about Celeborn being Galadriel’s bitch or whatever else people want to say) and how they got together - these ones in particular suggesting that Celeborn chased Galadriel and courted her before she reciprocated. I…

05 9 / 2014

star-skipping said: I recently read Vladimir Nabokov's essay "Good Readers and Good Writers" in which he says a good reader remains detached from the story and refuses to identify with the characters or conflict, instead reading with "impersonal imagination". Do you have any thoughts on this? What do you think makes a good reader?

maggie-stiefvater:

I’ll bet he was a barrel of monkeys at parties!

It’s worth noting that one of Nabokov’s detractors said, in glorious metaphor, that he could “hear the clatter of surgical tools in his prose." Also it’s worth noting that I can imagine many people sneering over the idea of a cage match of Nabokov vs. Stiefvater, as I write commercial supernatural fiction, and he wrote celebrated literary novels that have stood the test of time. Further, further worth noting I haven’t read the essay, so I don’t know the details of his thesis.

That said, I think what makes a good reader is defined entirely by what your goal is as a reader. It’s subjective. If you want to analyze a book’s prose only, I suppose that is a fair way to do it. But it seems like a sterile, incomplete jury.

As a writer, I spend a good deal of time crafting chapters in such a way that it’ll make the reader feel. Tears or laughter or anxiety or even simply temperature. A lot of times, I’m doing it by appealing to experiences readers have already had, throwing out a metaphor to help them climb the ladder to whatever situation I’m trying to get them to experience viscerally. I’m relying on the reader empathizing and identifying. I’ve read that readers store emotional memories from novels in the same places as actual memories, and that’s what I want: to create a story that lives in the same place as your real emotions.

So why would a “good reader” hold themselves impartial? Because an emotional reaction clouds the knowledge of whether or not the prose was accomplished? The emotions are part of the craft!

Of course, emotions are subjective — what pushes one person to catharsis can make another roll their eyes. But I still think it can be analyzed as easily as whether or not the prose or structure is any good; I think there’s as much universality in emotional resonance as there is in style preference.

Even if my goal is to read as a writer, I don’t see the purpose of holding aside my personal baggage. Instead, I come into a novel with all my biased guns firing, and then I watch the novel disarm me or not. Then I ask: how did it do it? How did I suddenly sympathize with this character; why did I start to doubt the pacing here? I don’t think I could effectively use novels as craft textbooks without coming at it as a biased, emotional reader.

Here’s what I think makes a good reader at any level:

- read all the words. If an author fails to convince you on any point and you haven’t read all the words, the first person to blame is yourself, not the author.

- look for layers. The best books say lots of things at the same time, and you can miss out on half a book’s greatness by taking every single sentence at face value only.

- be patient. Especially if you’re reading outside your comfort zone, a book can seem dull or confusing until you learn its language.

- remember that the characters are not the author.

- remember that a flawed character is not necessarily a bad character. Please, internet, please remember this in particular when reading female characters, because it’s getting a little crazy out there.

- shoot your snobbery in the head. You’re doing yourself no favors, and you’re only going to look like a shitnozzle when you look back on yourself ten years later.

ETA: I have now read the essay. And even though he does say identifying with the main character is poor reading, that’s not all that he says, and in context he’s not even really saying that. I disagree with a lot of the language of the essay, and I think it’s stunningly condescending, but I don’t know if I disagree with the heart of what he’s saying, which that in fiction anything is possible, and the good reader remembers that.

05 9 / 2014

blue-voids:

Guy Sargent - What Lies Beneath the Surface, 2006-09

05 9 / 2014


DalYo | DO NOT EDIT

DalYo | DO NOT EDIT

(Source: fyeahyura)

01 9 / 2014

kmagazinelovers:

Park Shin Hye - W Magazine September Issue ‘14

kmagazinelovers:

Park Shin Hye - W Magazine September Issue ‘14

01 9 / 2014

stylekorea:

Instyle Korea
Model: Go Ara
September 2014

stylekorea:

Instyle Korea

Model: Go Ara

September 2014

(via thewhoreticulturist)