these vagabond shoes

reasons why i might be one of the coolest god parents include:
this onesie.

REASON NUMBER ONE MILLION WE ARE SOULMATES:

when i saw this, i DEMANDED my niece have it!

good news, guys! last night i crocheted my first hat, which means i’m basically a pro, and you can basically sign up for lessons whenever. also, will be stealing the ruffle bottom and adding it to every project i make from now until the end of time.

bad news, wasn’t expecting a floppy joey potter bucket hat. soooo will be giving it away to someone who frequents the cafe. IMAGINE THAT.

“ Imagine you’re sailing to a new home overseas when the unthinkable happens: shipwreck. Somehow in all the chaos, you manage to find a lifeboat and scramble aboard with only a backpack containing your laptop, CDs, and DVDs. After several days at sea on the verge of death, you finally float ashore an uncharted island, where you find people in a primitive society without electricity. They ask if you need food and water. “Yes, please,” you gasp. “Fine, what do you have to trade?” Shocked, you eagerly show your electronics. “That is of no use to us. Do you have anything else?” Realizing they’re serious, you ask if you can roam the island for food. “No,” they reply, “All this belongs to us. Go find your own island.” Then, in stunned disbelief, you watch them turn and leave you to die amidst your useless wealth. After considering the obvious evil of this example, I have a simple question. Just how sure are you that it’s perfectly okay for you to enjoy all those electronic gadgets while so many people in this world don’t have food and clean water?

— Andrew Tallman (via azspot)

today i put bullshit aside and hammered out a 9-page research paper about time, fate, and star imagery in romeo and juliet. writing about shakespeare, guys, is weird. and difficult. i don’t know how to do something that has not been done before when it comes to shakespeare.

but the real thing here is, is this gruesome writing process i have now. i noticed there’s a way i do things that feels mine, and it doesn’t all feel so lost, so shot-in-the-dark. there is a method, a sense of approaching, tackling, breaking down, and stacking into neat piles.

but it is still hard because it’s slow. writing is such slow stuff. i can’t write 9 intelligible, interesting pages in one hour. i can’t make sure every sentence flows into the next, and that MLA is perfect, and that my sources aren’t just parroting my thoughts but somehow stand ajar and provocative without time. and it sucks. it really sucks. i know what i want it to look like, and i want to put it down on paper in seconds, but instead, i am sitting in a cafe, stomping my feet, biting pens, rubbing my finger on the rim of glasses trying to sift this writing out in a fine grain instead of letting it be course and choppy like first impulse tells me.

there is great discontinuity between how genius i am in my dome and how human i am on paper, and it is this patience, this willingness to spare all my time to sit and do these things right, and slow, and work hard. i see it now. i get it. i have written hundreds of pages about myself, of paper-thin fiction, and even more research papers, and it all, always, lacks patience.

strangeanduntrue:

flickflickflicker:

longlivethequeen:(via asterismz)

it would take a lot of adjectives to describe what this image just did to my living room.

this is my little brother, george. little is a word i have to use lightly—he’s taller than i am now. he can easily pick me up, thinks it’s hilarious. calls me little big sister. he is 16 to my 20, and we are very, very alike.

what’s cool about this big little dude is that he’s, like, really, actually growing up. this past year from 15 to 16 have meant an entirely different brother, more of a friend, less of someone i am somehow both close to so and know only distantly.

there are still those things about him i wish weren’t true; that he’s mean, and his heart isn’t that deep yet. i think these things might come with time. but for now, especially lately, he has become hilarious and smart and savvy to the workings of our family in ways i thought exclusionary to me. i like having him to talk to about our mom, our dad, their divides, their highs and lows. first hand accounts now shared, years later. and these things make sense. i mean, of course george would eventually grow up, but it is still something i didn’t see coming, but am wholly grateful for.

and really guys, he is exceptionally funny now.

unicornology:

bon-bon:(via srsly)

unavoidable re-blog.

hahahaahahahaaha

dear cat power and chekhov,

where have you been my whole life? these past two decades now seen vacuous and wasted without your presence. you seem so unrelated, but are so similarly bad ass. i hope my life is more like you guys would approve of from now on. you both are the collective sun of this pre-thanksgiving week 2009’s universe. thanks a million.

love,

jeanine

maggiellen:

whytheyrehot:

Why He’s Hot:

~~It is Cam Gigandet people! The fucking hot dude with the greatest blue eyes and a voice like sex. When he smiles, we all die and go to heaven.~~

He has this classic, insanely good-looking, bad boy thing going on, which made him perfect for the role of the bad guy in The OC, and Never Back Down. Oh, and yeah, he plays James in Twilight. He should have been made as famous as Robert Pattinson. ~~I’m gonna make a petition about this.~~

~~He has a victory win for~~ ~~best fight~~ ~~scene at the MTV Movie Awards. Fucking twice! Who doesn’t love tough sturdy guy ?~~

~~He is the sexiest man alive indeed, 8-pack abs. Pure sex.~~ ~~JUST SEE HIM SHIRTLESS HERE! I don’t need to say more.~~

~~Hot dad alert!~~ ~~Yes people, he is a father to a daughter and he seems to love his baby soo much (awhhh). Add that super sweet personality as a bonus.~~

{~~submission~~}

Ryan Atwood: (idk, something along the lines of:) Marissa’s got a drinking problem

VOLCHOCK: she drinks, she gets drunk. i don’t see the problem.

that’s why he’s hot.

some times i am a straight up indignant little child about my time, actually, how little of it is actually MINE.

i just brood over classes i never wanted to take, and alarm clocks, and making lattes all afternoon. it’s so much time i throw away, and it just seems to no end, to no ultimate product.

it gets to the point of outright despair. and i know that it’s childish, which is what makes it so painful, but it just sits in my stomach all day long. little, shallow, anger.

today is one of those days.