"The beast in me Has had to learn to live with pain And how to shelter from the rain And in the twinkling of an eye Might have to be restrained God help the beast in me" -Nick Lowe
5,779 notes · 7 hours ago

manjolras:

tangledecstasy:

manjolras:

we’d probably already have hoverboards if we didn’t spend so much time arguing over whether women are people and if they should be allowed to do science

I mean yeah cause hover boards are more essential to life than basic fucking human rights. 

you probably misunderstood this post

200,535 notes · 7 hours ago
355,206 notes · 7 hours ago
11,521 notes · 7 hours ago
48,395 notes · 7 hours ago
So Benedict says he wants to do Sherlock for another 15 years?

mysharona1987:

Wow! That’s like, 6 new episodes to look forward to.

22,078 notes · 7 hours ago

zannablack:

superlockedinthephandom:

sarajust:

taggedbooty:

offlcer:

♫ it’s going down, i’m yelling Simba ♫

image

TOO SOON

IT’S BEEN 20 YEARS

WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS BEEN 20 YEARS

image

oh my god…

482,909 notes · 8 hours ago
441,163 notes · 8 hours ago

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.


Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

I’m really glad I read that.

(via selfesteampunk)


148,713 notes · 8 hours ago
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75,445 notes · 8 hours ago
J
Reblog
K
6071 notes
It’s 2am and I miss you
just like I did last night at 9pm
and just like I will tomorrow
at 6am when I wake up without you

Pien Pouwels (via c-oquetry)
41,390 notes · 11 hours ago

tatianamaslnay:

rexuality:

if you see me laughing while texting there’s a 99.9% chance i’m laughing at a text message i sent because i’m equal parts vain and hilarious

399,842 notes · 13 hours ago
J
Reblog
K
74260 notes
wyld-n-free:

Me. Lmao