clichés, clichés, clichés. Tumblr is full of boring clichés. Why are we so addicted to clichés? This blog seeks different perspectives than the usual clichés, as it is my opinion that the clichés are only making us less intelligent, and stopping us from thinking outside a certain frame. I'm so tired of nude pics of skinny girls, pictures of people having sex, pictures of nature with quotes on. The boring stuff that doesn't challenge anything. Give me something else. I'm not claiming that this blog does not contain any clichés at all, I believe that most human beings are a cliché, which makes some clichés inevitable.
I am a psycology student with a passion for art and design. I'm inspired by Chuck Palahniuk, Jean Baudrillard, sarcasm, fuckup clichés, hyper reality, street art and sociology ++
all dressed up in red and yellow
I am waiting for you
"I have been looking for you" you whisper mellow.
You are the wind, so full of life
And once again I fall for that trick
You take of my clothes and leave me
Naked while the snow falls thick
Losing the grip when meeting nature. Looking into the never ending, never beginning universe, and the the yellow yellow leaves.
And realising that
the mess in the apartment, the homework, making dinner
Are all routines making life comprehensible
Repeat after me: I am free
So evolution made man superior by the development of advanced mental capacities. The homo sapiens, by itself is rather fragile and physically undangorous compared to other animals. Meeting a lion with nothing but your bare hands and mental capacities would not protect you from the lions teeth and claws. However in the story of evolution humans became capable of creating tools out of natures resources, to control nature. A man with a rifle would be able to protect himself from the lion. The strategy is smart, enabling homo sapiens survival. However, the creation of tools became so great, human being in many parts of the world became increasingly distanced from pure nature. The evolutionary goal of survival was no longer a struggle, but a taken for granted fact. How do we discover meaning when the meaning (struggle of survival) is no longer present?
meningen med livet er å glemme at det ikke fins en mening
A fucking MEN
It’s been a rough winter for all of us, some more than others. ‘Seasonal depression’ is a pretty common phenomenon among us lot of uber sensitive, unnecessarily emotional creatives. We need the physical comfort of warmth to remind us that life is real. We need long, summer days to trick us into believing that we’re not running out of time. We need barbecues and pool parties to distract us from the imminence of death and other stupid melodramatic existential shit (things that only privileged people have the free time to think about). Winter, obviously, is an overt threat to our sanity. We whine, mope, weep, deck ourselves out in monochrome and refuse to remove our circle sunglasses in public, flattering ourselves with the masturbatory paranoia that other people will want to make eye contact with our sorry asses. We’re perfectly sad. Pristinely depressed. Depreston.