@lowfye50: We’re almost to 60k streams on These Horns on Spotify 🖤 #alttiktok #numetal #lowfye50 #emo #2000s

Lowfye50

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Tuesday 15 July 2025 17:20:08 GMT

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bree :

okay 🥰🥰🥰 love this, you are extremely creative and talented.. keep dropping hits. what inspired this song ?

2025-07-16 14:16:10

1

Metal_owiec :

this song is fire!

2025-07-15 17:39:30

0

KryssyWakeBackUp :

Love it

2025-07-16 22:58:59

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Sad.Cat.Nap :

🙌

2025-07-16 07:14:41

1

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this proxy cost 6 cents #mtgaddicts #mtgtiktok #mtgproxy #magicthegathering #mtg

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Bringt sie ihm wohl die Milch? #ai #fyp #viral #milch

Bringt sie ihm wohl die Milch? #ai #fyp #viral #milch

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I first saw this dress a long time ago, and it captured my imagination. I kept dreaming about wearing it, or something like it. I’ve been practicing my sewing, and finally attempted it, and after hours of work, was happy with the result. After finishing the dress, I went to get my nails done. I have been reading “Women Who Run With the Wolves.” I pulled it up while getting the pedicure. It’s a collection of short stories and folktales told by women for generations. The author, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, visited elder women, and listened their stories — the tales they were told by the women that came before them. All of which have been told to help women to develop their natural intuition, and understand the world around them. Estés writes about how we are taught to ignore our intuition. I can’t even count how many times I was told to “be ladylike” as a child. Living in a world of consumption, and hierarchy, has cost us our instincts. I spent years enduring rudeness for the sake of being graceful. I stifled my creativity to be more palatable. I avoided taking up space so I never did what I love most. The stories in the book help repair those learned behaviors. So that morning at the nail salon, I started a new chapter in the book, “The Red Shoes.” It was about a little girl who lived alone as an orphan. She spent all day wandering to find food and shelter. Always walking, she wanted shoes. After collecting scraps from trash bins, she finally had enough to make herself a pair. The little girl’s self-made red shoes became her favorite thing. How great that she made such perfectly fitting shoes to protect her feet! The shoes represent so many things. She was learning to rely on herself, they were beautiful even if they were made from scraps. I didn’t connect it to my own experience making the dress until like halfway through. The story goes, as the little girl walked along the road, an old woman in a shiny gold carriage pulled up and offered to take care of her. The little girl hopped in and rode the woman’s big house, rested in her new fancy bed, and came down for breakfast. “Where are my shoes?” She asked. “I threw them away. I got you a new pair!” She was heart broken. But, she put on a new pair of shiny red shoes. She got lots of attention for them. One day, she put them on and her feet started dancing, uncontrollably. She couldn’t stop, and the shoes wouldn’t come off. She begged for her feet to be cut off. They were. It’s a dark tale, like most folktales truly are. I still am shook by the coincidence I came to this part of the book right after finishing this black dress. The story impacted me in ways I don’t fully understand, or can’t meaningfully explain yet. But I know that I can easily be distracted by things that are shiney and new. But after making three dresses now, I know no piece of clothing I’ve ever found brings me the same joy as when I make something for myself. I love clothes. To me, fashion is art we wear. Everyone reveals themselves in the clothes they choose. I love scouring thrift stores for my next beautiful thing. I dream about being able to wear really fancy clothes. But, both of my grandmothers worked at consignment shops and antique stores. So, thrifting is always warm and comfortable even if it isn’t so glamorous. I definitely have been told that shopping is frivolous, finding joy in clothes is vain, and so on. But, during peak COVID, I was living on a property in rural North Carolina with lots of neighbors who were into hippie stuff like meditation and nature and spirituality. One day, the eldest woman pulled me aside. I had gotten a lot of compliments on my sundress that day, and how pretty I looked in it. She noticed the attention made me shy. She said, very intentionally: beauty is universal. Everyone can appreciate beauty. It helps spread light. So, I like my red shoes. I am not ashamed to like shiney things and beautiful clothes. But, I also know not to hop in a golden carriage when it pulls over.

I first saw this dress a long time ago, and it captured my imagination. I kept dreaming about wearing it, or something like it. I’ve been practicing my sewing, and finally attempted it, and after hours of work, was happy with the result. After finishing the dress, I went to get my nails done. I have been reading “Women Who Run With the Wolves.” I pulled it up while getting the pedicure. It’s a collection of short stories and folktales told by women for generations. The author, Clarissa Pinkola Estés, visited elder women, and listened their stories — the tales they were told by the women that came before them. All of which have been told to help women to develop their natural intuition, and understand the world around them. Estés writes about how we are taught to ignore our intuition. I can’t even count how many times I was told to “be ladylike” as a child. Living in a world of consumption, and hierarchy, has cost us our instincts. I spent years enduring rudeness for the sake of being graceful. I stifled my creativity to be more palatable. I avoided taking up space so I never did what I love most. The stories in the book help repair those learned behaviors. So that morning at the nail salon, I started a new chapter in the book, “The Red Shoes.” It was about a little girl who lived alone as an orphan. She spent all day wandering to find food and shelter. Always walking, she wanted shoes. After collecting scraps from trash bins, she finally had enough to make herself a pair. The little girl’s self-made red shoes became her favorite thing. How great that she made such perfectly fitting shoes to protect her feet! The shoes represent so many things. She was learning to rely on herself, they were beautiful even if they were made from scraps. I didn’t connect it to my own experience making the dress until like halfway through. The story goes, as the little girl walked along the road, an old woman in a shiny gold carriage pulled up and offered to take care of her. The little girl hopped in and rode the woman’s big house, rested in her new fancy bed, and came down for breakfast. “Where are my shoes?” She asked. “I threw them away. I got you a new pair!” She was heart broken. But, she put on a new pair of shiny red shoes. She got lots of attention for them. One day, she put them on and her feet started dancing, uncontrollably. She couldn’t stop, and the shoes wouldn’t come off. She begged for her feet to be cut off. They were. It’s a dark tale, like most folktales truly are. I still am shook by the coincidence I came to this part of the book right after finishing this black dress. The story impacted me in ways I don’t fully understand, or can’t meaningfully explain yet. But I know that I can easily be distracted by things that are shiney and new. But after making three dresses now, I know no piece of clothing I’ve ever found brings me the same joy as when I make something for myself. I love clothes. To me, fashion is art we wear. Everyone reveals themselves in the clothes they choose. I love scouring thrift stores for my next beautiful thing. I dream about being able to wear really fancy clothes. But, both of my grandmothers worked at consignment shops and antique stores. So, thrifting is always warm and comfortable even if it isn’t so glamorous. I definitely have been told that shopping is frivolous, finding joy in clothes is vain, and so on. But, during peak COVID, I was living on a property in rural North Carolina with lots of neighbors who were into hippie stuff like meditation and nature and spirituality. One day, the eldest woman pulled me aside. I had gotten a lot of compliments on my sundress that day, and how pretty I looked in it. She noticed the attention made me shy. She said, very intentionally: beauty is universal. Everyone can appreciate beauty. It helps spread light. So, I like my red shoes. I am not ashamed to like shiney things and beautiful clothes. But, I also know not to hop in a golden carriage when it pulls over.

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