working in a grocery store is hell I don’t even start for another 35 minutes and I’ve already had a customer come up to me and ask me why the turkeys are so small this year
I don’t fucking know, Karen, I don’t control how big turkeys get I get paid minimum wage
This is a version of an unfinished picture now in the Menil Foundation
Collection, Houston. The existence of many versions of this work can be
explained by the fact that Sir Joshua Reynolds encouraged his
students to copy it. The sitter is thought to be Francis (Frank)
Barber, the servant of Dr Johnson. Johnson held Barber in high esteem,
flouting convention by educating him and making him his principal
heir.
I really enjoy the subtle differences in these works, although some dimensions are lost due to the less than stellar photography. You can read more about Barber here, a man who was enslaved, and after gaining freedom had various adventures as an apothecary, in the Royal Navy, and as heir to his companion & mentor Dr. Samuel Johnson. Although many of you might not recognize that name, you might be familiar these paintings, also by Reynolds:
I put on my sunglasses, to hide my swollen eyes, over my tears. I cried all my makeup off. Went inside to have a milkshake. I don’t know why. I wanted something to drink as I figured out what I would do. I got a soda and a milkshake. Medium. The cashier looked at me and with a line around the corner of the counter he rushed away from the counter “Hold on “ he yelled to a coworker.
I filled my soda and went back and saw him looking all over. I go up and he gets close and says “I made it a large”.
That was seriously enough for me not to do it. His kindness. Someone went out of their way and as I went back in my car to cry I realized I could muster through a few other days. A few more weeks. Then I came down from that panicky high of anxiety, depression, and pain. I finished my shake. And it was enough time to let me feel better. I… I’m alive. I’ll make it through.
Try and be nice today. Tomorrow. Something as much as a smile. It helped so much.
Thank you man at McDonalds.
The milkshake saved my life
I hope you all can read this and remember to be kind
The smallest of gestures can save a life. My Mum answered her phone when I called and I am alive today because of that.
I’m glad you’re here.
It’s a phone call, a milkshake, a friend.
I feel like I shouldn’t keep reblogging this but when I do more people see what kindness can do…. I don’t know. Love everyone as yourself.
Nah, keep rebloging it. It gives hope.
walked sobbing around a city once wearing a summer dress in mid-september thunder and rain. basically dragged myself into LUSH as the smell of the store always made me smile. the shop was empty and dead due to the weather, just this blonde short woman behind the counter who smiled at me. i stared at her feet and asked ‘do you have anything for people who are scared a lot?’ (i was so out of it i had no clue). she showed me two bath bombs, one pink and one blue, and said both were good – i chose the pink, paid for it and left. i then sat at a bus stop clutching the LUSH bag in one arm and my prescription meds in the other – i’d lied and ordered a refill so i could just drift away with sleeping pills. when the bus arrived and i was out of the rain, i decided to have another look at my bath bomb, smell it and what not. opened my bag and saw she’d put the blue one in there for me as well and written on the receipt ‘feel better soon 🙂 hope you like x’.
no one had ever been so selflessly kind to me before, i didn’t know what to do with it except hang around long enough to use the other bath bomb.
Actually I’m going to reblog this again because of the truth of the inverse: think of any time you have been casually cruel or petty to someone for humor or because you weren’t in a great mood.
The power of small gestures goes both ways.
It’s probably not a big thing, but I remember when I failed my year for the second time. I was at the edge of changing school and fall in that damn depression again. I was feeling worthless, stupid and terrible. I cried for hours, and didn’t go out for days.
No one came to me to confort me, except my family and close friends.
No classmate or teacher came to me and talked with me when I was back at school. Except three of them. My English, Spanish and history teachers. They all asked me if I was okay, and talked with me. They cheered me up. They told me that I was going to be okay, that I’ll get through this and go to university, realize my dreams because I was smart and strong, that I had the strength, the capacities to do it. Two of them already knew me, and one didn’t. Even though she didn’t know me, my actual English teacher cheered me up and still does.
And not a long time ago, my Spanish teacher gave me a lil card of luck for the exams, telling me that I was doing great and that I was being very positive, and after 90% in Spanish, I could even get 100%.
How can I not be positive and motivated to continue without people like them ? I don’t only have my family & my friends who support me, but teachers as well, even though they barely know me. Kindness is truly a great and blessed quality.
Gay Hell 