Facts: The New York Times managed to obtain, through contributor Daniel Ellsberg, a copy of the classified study, “History of U.S. Decision-Making Process on Viet Nam Policy,” (also known as the “Pentagon Papers”) with the intention of publishing excerpts.
“Israeli artist Ronit Bigal meticulously presents excerpts from sacred Biblical texts on the human body in her Body Scripture IIseries. Like Allan Teger’s Bodyscapes, Bigal gets in close to the contours of the human form, re-imagining the body as an abstract landscape. On the grooved, fleshy expanse, the artist systematically applies black Indian ink calligraphy in Hebrew that reveals passages of scripture.”
remember when instead of touchpads laptops had those keyboard nipple things
So, one time I found a bag of these in a box in a dumpster behind my high school, and I stuck them in my backpack figuring I could use them for art or something.
And then, like, a month later I was sitting there in class and my prof was talking about how the laptop he was using didn’t have one of the thingers, so I pulled out the bag of them and he was so confused.
He then proceeded to pull out every laptop of the cart and have me replace all of the ones that were missing.
my mom got me a new necklace, and part of the proceeds went to helping hearing-impaired children :)
hearing-impaired meaning Deaf.
If proceeds even WENT to Deaf children, and not some audist bullshit org.
Wow, can you just chill? Even if the organization was shitty and didn’t give the money to the right place I doubt this girl or her mom did that and you don’t need to be a douche to her when she was just trying to do something nice for others… Jeez….
No, she’s playing into the inspiration-porn bullshit. I don’t give money to Autism Speaks, and I don’t give money to audist organizations.
This is just it: You research where your money is going. Same reason we don’t buy twilight books.
My name isn't important. I am your daughter, your sister, your cousin, your student, your neighbor, your best friend, the girl in the black hoodie in the back of the bus, that kid you sit next to in math class, your cashier, that random girl you friended on FaceBook.
I like street signs, rock music, chocolate-banana smoothies with (free!) whipped cream, and meme sites. I abhor math, ignorance, and the nasty fried egg patties from WaWa.
I am a teenager stuck in suburban America, so I spend most of my time with my iPod wishing I was somewhere else. I'm not perfect, but neither are you, so that's OK.
I don't know who you are, but you are welcome here. If you're my parents or really just anyone that cares about me at all, please, just leave. This is my space, my little corner of the world. Please, I need this.