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5 hours ago - Reblog

strictly-fandoms:

do you ever just get the overwhelming urge to cry because you think you’re not going to go far in life because you’re not as smart or as talented as the people around you

(via naram-garam-br0wnies)

2,143 notes
11 hours ago - Reblog

(Source: fypakistan, via naram-garam-br0wnies)

51,700 notes
11 hours ago - Reblog

sixpenceee:

Krista and Tatiana Hogan are craniopagus twins, meaning they’re connected at the head.

They share a structure that connects Krista’s thalamus to Tatiana’s. The thalamus is a double-lobed organ that plays important roles in processing sensory input and creating consciousness.

Since Krista’s and Tatiana’s thalami are connected, scientists and members of the Hogan family think the girls might view the world differently than the rest of us do.

For example, Dr. Cochrane believes the girls can see through each other’s eyes. He came to this conclusion after covering Krista’s eyes, placing electrodes on her head, and watched Krista’s brain respond after shining a light in Tatiana’s pupils.

Other times, one girl will be watching TV while the other is looking somewhere else. Suddenly, the twin not watching TV will start laughing at what’s happening onscreen.

Their “thalamic bridge” also affects their sense of taste. Krista is a ketchup fiend, but Tatiana hates the stuff. Once, Krista was eating ketchup, and Tatiana furiously tried to wipe it off her own tongue even though she wasn’t eating any ketchup herself.

Perhaps the strangest phenomenon of all is that the twins sometimes use the word “I” to describe both of themselves at once.

As of 2011, no one had run any conclusive tests on the girls and their odd condition. However, scientists who have observed their behavior and brain scans are flabbergasted and excited. While no one can say for sure at the moment, it really does seem Krista and Tatiana can share private thoughts and perceive what the other is sensing.

As someone who wants to study consciousness in the future, I can say this is one of the most extraordinary cases I have ever heard of. 

SOURCE

 

(via mack-la-more)

854 notes
15 hours ago - Reblog
Herati women’s solo dance known as ghamzagi or qandegi is a Afghan style of dance in which all naz or eshwa that a dancer knows is drawn upon to be presented in a free format. Naz is the Persian equivalent of coyness, it is the use of femininity to it’s utmost and is a very important feature of the female psyche in the East. Movements can describe aspects of daily activities such as facial beautification, combing the hair, sewing, sowing, picking fruit or flowers etc.

Dancer: Mariam Gaibova (Actress and dancer of Tajik origin.)
Video: x
Credit(s): x

(Source: everythingcentralasia, via lespritmodestee)

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15 hours ago - Reblog

(Source: imgfave, via claviclesandanaarr)

1,215 notes
16 hours ago - Reblog

desimalemodels:

Zayn Malik

(via thepurpleraincoat)

965 notes
1 day ago - Reblog
thepurpleraincoat:

tzakartinsani:

Nizar Qabbani

I remember Ayesha reading this at Zaytuna, and darling Ahlaam crying because yay love and all of us sitting and getting lost in our thoughts because hey, this is lovely, and now I’m overwhelmed by my Berkeley nostalgia because I’ve been remembering y’all a lot recently, and our stories and our adventures and the beautiful souls I can’t ever forget. I want to give each of you a polar bear hug, even mah boyz, because I love all of y’all so so much. Always in my dua’as, always in my heart. Can I just embrace the world? Yes yes I shall. Illicit dance parties, pre-fajr hikes, communal iftars, the adventures of Maha/Tariq/Khalid, getting lost in San Fran, roping the brothas into walking us home from the masjid, climbing lemon trees (I really miss climbing that wonderful tree), swimming through fog, farmer’s markets, secondhand bookstores, Peet’s Coffee, praying in my favorite room on Earth - the Zaytuna Library, starlit balcony journaling/study parties, henna parties, heart to hearts, global potlucks from each of our motherlands, and a helluva lot of ice-cream… gotta believe it’ll happen again. Mizzyou, my sweet sweet friends.

lovelovelove

thepurpleraincoat:

tzakartinsani:

Nizar Qabbani

I remember Ayesha reading this at Zaytuna, and darling Ahlaam crying because yay love and all of us sitting and getting lost in our thoughts because hey, this is lovely, and now I’m overwhelmed by my Berkeley nostalgia because I’ve been remembering y’all a lot recently, and our stories and our adventures and the beautiful souls I can’t ever forget. I want to give each of you a polar bear hug, even mah boyz, because I love all of y’all so so much. Always in my dua’as, always in my heart. Can I just embrace the world? Yes yes I shall. Illicit dance parties, pre-fajr hikes, communal iftars, the adventures of Maha/Tariq/Khalid, getting lost in San Fran, roping the brothas into walking us home from the masjid, climbing lemon trees (I really miss climbing that wonderful tree), swimming through fog, farmer’s markets, secondhand bookstores, Peet’s Coffee, praying in my favorite room on Earth - the Zaytuna Library, starlit balcony journaling/study parties, henna parties, heart to hearts, global potlucks from each of our motherlands, and a helluva lot of ice-cream… gotta believe it’ll happen again. Mizzyou, my sweet sweet friends.

lovelovelove

149,381 notes
1 day ago - Reblog

"

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

"

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” (via endegame)

(Source: oliviacirce, via missbosnian)

1 note
1 day ago - Reblog

2/15/14

Today was interesting. Didn’t do anything in Stats but talk and play math games on the projector. Took a test in Pysch — was fairly easy. In English we watched The Great Gatsby and in Latin we wrote essays and just sat. I was super excited to go get shawarma with my friends but I got home and my dad was in bed with a fever. He couldn’t move or eat. Felt awful going out when he was suffering at home. Canceled and just chilled with him instead. I am officially on spring break until Monday.

I got money to take part in a summer study abroad program. Eeeks, very exciting. Nice to hear good news sometimes. Morocco? Spain? Turkey? London?

I’m actually a Tarheel.

965 notes
1 day ago - Reblog
tzakartinsani:

Nizar Qabbani

tzakartinsani:

Nizar Qabbani

(via naram-garam-br0wnies)