no one understand I am in problem and cant cope out
Upward Risinghave you seen tribals in andaman islands? they are also indians.
they are older indian root even earlier than north indian or south indian
we all have diversified out towards north rise
and we hold our particular culture in each region
try searching jarava tribals on google
try searching kalash tribals of himalayas on google
how do these totally different than indian appearing natives live on indian lands?
we are just intermediate process
i just want to tell that the north indian south indian dispute is bullshit..we are in our place and great in that..there is not even any real fascination of indian or europid..we are all from same roots..
Special CountryIn the dream I saw sleeping in early after noon towards the end sleep, I saw 4 different portal view dreams of different kinds of same people in a fantasy country land of people I find immediate kin. They had a very strange elfish and romantic world and country that I experienced in the dream.
1) I saw a large grass land in a dim day time with short lush green grass everywhere, but it was clowdy, misty and overhung and quite north country cold as in mountain winter, it was chilling and still very muddy and green grass on that left alone continuous ground. It looked like uncultivated farm, and had many trenches of few hands wide and short non continous shallow water filled with rain water, and collidal and muddy with fresh rain.
An Indian north hemispheric couple of my same kind or maybe a little northern pretty kin were in rendezvous there and they were enjoying every moment of the time they found to meet, they were silently in an escape to meet their love on that waste grass land. I s
American GirlDear Maybe-Mama,
I was not a mistake.
It’s strange to think that exactly half of my DNA comes from you, and yet we could pass each other on the street and not even recognize each other.
I’ve never really believed in searching for you, my biological family. I never asked my parents the heartbreaking questions that Hollywood makes small, blue-eyed orphans ask: “Why didn’t my real mother want me?” I’ve never believed in any of that, and I don’t expect that you’d want me to, anyway.
But if we ever did meet, what would we even say to each other? I don’t speak Chinese, and you probably don’t speak English. But, in case you’ve ever wondered about me, here’s a little about myself:
I look different now. When you last saw me, I weighed less than fifteen pounds and could fit inside of a kitchen sink when I needed a bath. But today I am 19 years old and I’m probably taller than you – the nutrition in America is dif
Naruto Oc MakerName:
Were they born in said village?:
If not what is their original village of birth?:
Why did they leave their birth village?:
Defensive or Offensive:
Name(Made by Masashi Kishimoto):
Name(If You Make Your Own):
How Do They Activate It:
How Is It Used:
TF2 plz'sThese are my tf2 account's, more will be added and any help getting more will be appreciated!
what to do- Art VS Parents
Art career VS Parents is actually a very very common issue in many different countries.
First of all, you are not alone in this struggle, many many people are on the same boat sharing the same problem, including your parents.
A lot of parents tend to think doing art makes you starve, and you will be poor all your life if you want to become an artist. They are dead set on "a certain career means more money therefore means more steady life"
Truth is... whatever that popular career is... it may become less popular later because of so many people going into the field, thus lowering the demand. The supply and demand principle applies to all fields, jobs market changes.
OK. To start with the conversation... Lets make sure we know what they think that an "art career" is~~~
Research and Communicate:
Usually they don't know ANYTHING about that career you want to go into, usually the best way to go about it is research how much "salary" you will get paid with doing a certain job
open letter to my first holy communion teacherdear miss bond,
you may or may not remember me. you taught me religion at my local church, we called it First Holy Communion but i always secretly thought it was brainwashing. you were so passionate about it, you seemed to make it palatable. it is only in later years, seeing what religion is, that i have recanted my faith. but you - when i think of you, i still feel my fingers twitching to bless the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost. i think of the lace squares that you would give us, your children; your flock, when we learnt a prayer. parrot this, child, and you shall be given pretty, clean edged doilies. white lace, it was rough on our fingertips. religion bought us and we shall have the steady thudding of Our Father in our minds from the rest of our lives. you made it a blessing to believe. the reality is; it is a curse. i hope you can never see that.
i have been thinking about the concept of sin. we are all born with original sin. i hear that purgatory is outdated, now? that's a sham
Dead WrongDear Boy with the Broken Eyes.
Just because they have always said it, things have always been difficult. And they are right. Life has always been difficult. Things will never happen the way you want them to happen. Broken hearts are so much easier to find than mended ones. And dreams? Well, if the world ran on dreams, we'd be building a whole new universe already, just to escape our own jaded one.
When I met you, you had already seen the worst of this world. They told you that you were not allowed to love because you couldn't do it the right way. They informed you that you weren't a poet, just a vagabond with tragic fingers on a broken instrument. They explained to you that you couldn't rise above anything because you just weren't special. And that every step of the way, they would be breaking you down, just to watch you fall.
Of course, they didn't mention that when you speak, your voice holds a lost song within it. And when you sleep, your guitar is an inch away from yo
Letter to a fatherDear Father,
As I sit in a room two continents away, surrounded by clothes and books and pretty things, all bought with money provided by you, five years into a degree funded by you, I type away this letter.
Dear Father, two days ago you laughed when I excitedly showed you a photo of a thirty-five-bedroom castle and said that one day I will buy it, and you told me that at my age you had stopped having those grandiose dreams. Let me tell you a different story. Nineteen years ago, you pulled a drawer out of your wardrobe, to reveal a drawer behind it, and within this drawer was a single item: an old, ornate, large iron key. You told me it was the key to the gates of your Castle in Spain. Only years later did I learn that in French, "castle in Spain" means castle in the air.
Thanks to a man who never stopped dreaming... but who put his dreams aside to help his daughter make hers come true, today, I can dream.
Dear Father, when they ask me if I have a role model, I name you. You may be gru
GladiatorBeing an artist sometimes feels like being a gladiator.
Though the occasional flowers heal the superficial wounds or boost the ego after an exhausting fight, they do nothing to keep pain at bay when I go back to my cage.
Just like gladiators who die in the arena, spilling their guts out in the concrete and omnipresent dirt, just like the reality of the screams and wails covered by the cheers of the masses... so do I spill everything I feel on paper, for your entertainment.
And just like the cuts of a sword through the flesh, going down with a shriek on the naked bone, are real, so are the nervous strokes of the pencil real, and the words are real, and the pain is real, and the love is real. And this is the only way I can do art, and you have it all, the gore and the sublime.
And I will keep doing it this way until I collapse in the dirt, with my guts spi
Text Messages to No OneHey haven't talked to you in a while.
==>save message? y/n
I saw that you got
==>save message y/n
Its been a while.
Maybe we could hang out?
==>save message y/n
Wow, I cant believe it's been so long since we talked!
What happened, do you think? Lets talk and
I miss you.
==>save message y/n
Today I thought about that tree in your backyard.
And how we used to climb it to get on the roof of ur garage.
We had some good times.
==>save message y/n
I havent been up to much. Got a job, finally.
I feel all grown up and shit. Still a bit lonely here,
But I'm sure that'll change.
==>save message y/n
Thought about you again on my way home.
It's hard to keep track of all these messages.
Have I told you about my job? I don't remember.
It's cool. Boring. But c
Thought about u again on my way home
Its hard 2 keep trac