I wonder if these boys know:
These girls are goddesses.
Room-stopping beauty. Python-striking wit. Professor-worshiping smarts.
Tear-jerking dedication.
Life-saving hope.
World-crashing love.
My girls have it all.
Although I don’t have this woman’s chic bathroom and devastating jawline, I DO have her bathrobe and I DO wear it around my home while pensively staring off into oblivion.
Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.
Whilst at my mother’s house for Christmas dinner I thought it appropriate to revive my old machete and do some real-life Fruit Ninja with pears.
I have to say, they taste better when chopped with a two foot blade.
(Source: waxu, via theinevitablezombieapocalypse)
Newest Project: May need YOUR help.
I’m working on a modern-day, college version of the short story “The Things They Carried”. Much like the military men in the story, college students carry their lives on their backs and in their hearts. Students don’t just carry their books and laptops; they also carry dreams, fears, disorders, and secrets. We are all from different places and have completely different reasons for why we have become who we are. I’m sure I could make all the characters up myself but I’d really like to base some of them on actual college students (no names necessary). So, if you know the story I’m referring to, here’s the pitch:
You meet me on campus some time next quarter.
We get coffee.
We talk for a little while about whatever we want.
You let me ask a lot of questions.
You let me rifle through your backpack.
Personal stories are my fascination. Let me know if you’re interested.
Syd
one of these days you’ll be born & raised
It’s a little like this.
Ode to the Dreadlocked Leaf Blower outside my Kitchen Window
I like to watch you blow the leaves,
From my high-up unseen view,
I think of your crew as Autumns thieves,
Stealing sheets of orange that the wind once blew.
But if I could ask you just one thing,
I would ask that you be my friend,
And once I was friends with the Leafy King,
I’d have piles to jump in till my joyful end.
JFK Imitation Assignment
Let the names be called and the tally’s taken, by professors to their students, marking the attendance of each and every individual—having traveled by car, ridden by bus, floated by ferry, or meandered from a nearby dorm—and let all those who chose to stay within the clutches of their warm bed when the room around them was a good 20 degrees cooler feel shame, because they will not enjoy the sweet satisfaction of hearing their name called and boldly proclaiming “I’m here!”.
Words that don’t exist in the english language:
L’esprit d’escalier: (French) The feeling you get after leaving a conversation, when you think of all the things you should have said. Translated it means “the spirit of the staircase.”
Waldeinsamkeit: (German) The feeling of being alone in the woods.
Meraki: (Greek) Doing something with soul, creativity, or love.
Forelsket: (Norwegian) The euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love.
Gigil: (Filipino) The urge to pinch or squeeze something that is unbearably cute.
Pochemuchka: (Russian) A person who asks a lot of questions.
Pena ajena: (Mexican Spanish) The embarrassment you feel watching someone else’s humiliation.
Cualacino: (Italian) The mark left on a table by a cold glass.
Ilunga: (Tshiluba, Congo) A person who is ready to forgive any abuse for the first time, to tolerate it a second time, but never a third time.
Meraki. Using it.
(via metanarrativemusings)
The “Roaring Fire” DVD Sonnet
I bought a DVD that is entirely the image of a crackling fire (complete with crackles). What was, at first, resentment towards the false-flame slowly morphed into an acceptance of a life I never thought I’d have. Executed in the poetic style of Sherman Alexie.
Welcome to the sadness of the plastic-wrapped
Nostalgia. Welcome to a crutch for home,
and family, however frayed or snapped.
We left comfort and security to roam
In darkness. Why can’t we be content
In the craters of our recollection?
Let’s mimic, try to represent
This ideal past. Let’s sway our rejection
Of the chimneyless apartment. Let go
of how it ought to be. Let yourself
Accept the foreign flickering glow.
Put your life-forecast on the highest shelf.
Let’s forget how we wanted this season to be
And accept this weird technology.
Fooled
Main Entry: fool
Part of Speech: verb
Definition: trick, mislead
Synonyms:
bamboozle, cheat, chicane, con, deceive, delude, diddle, dupe, fake out, flimflam, fox, gull, hoax, hoodwink, juke, lead on, make believe, outfox, play a trick on, play-act, pretend, put on, put one over on, scam.
I have this weird plan. To live in a tree house some day. Preferably on the coast. Preferably with someone else.
(Source: foxycleverpatra)
