So here I am sitting on my grandmother’s balcony in Florida. While reports of snow and wind back home surround me, I’m wearing shorts on a balmy, sea-side night. I am surrounded by family, and by my little niece.
And yet I’m homesick.
Florida, while amazing, is anything but home and family undercurrents are beginning to stress me out. Everything is so focused on the baby, (a new event for my family) that it doesn’t even feel like a regular family get together.
Despite reports of snow and typical Buffalo weather, I miss Buffalo. I might not even mind her greyness when I get back. I miss my routine, my friends and my boyfriend. Seeing my sister again and knowing I won’t see her for ages after this trip is unsettling me. As the trip begins to wind down - only two more days - I’m feeling uneasy.
May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art - write, or draw, or build, or sing, or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.
I should ink my skin, with your name.And take my passport out again,and just replace it.See I could do without a tan on my left hand,where my fourth finger meets my knuckle.And I should run you a hot bath, fill it up with bubbles. 'Cause maybe your loveable,and maybe your my snowflake,and your eyes turn from green to grey,in the winter I’ll hold you in a cold place.And you should never cut your hair,'cause I love the way you flick it off your shoulder, (mm)And you will never know, just how beautiful you are to me,but maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up. And Would you ever feel guilty? If you did the same to me.Would you make me a cup of tea, to open my eyes in the right way?And I know you love shrek, ‘cause we’ve watched it twelve times.But, maybe you’re hoping for a fairy-tale to, but if your DVD breaks today,You should of got a VCR, because I’ve never owned a blueray, true say. And I’ve always been shit at computer games, and your brother always beats me,And if I lost, i’d go across and chuck all the controllers at the tv, and then you’d laugh at me,and be asking me, if I’m going to be home next week,and then you’d lie with me, until I fall asleep,and flutter an eyelash on my cheek, between the sheets. And you will never know, just how beautiful you are to me,but maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up. And I think you hate the smell of smoke,you always try get me to stop,You drink as much as me, and I get drunk alot,So I take you to the beach, and walk along the sand,And I’ll make you a heart pendant, with a pebble in my hand.And I’ll carve it like a necklace, so the heart falls where your chest is,And now a piece of me, is a piece of the beach, and it falls just where it needs to be, and rests peacefully.You just need to breathe, to feel my heart against yours now, against yours now. But maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up.But maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up. Well maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up,Maybe I’m just in love when you wake me up,I said maybe I fell in love, when you woke me up.
Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.
“Buy a blank notebook. Draw a huge heart on the cover. Don’t write anything negative in here. If you need another outlet, make a separate notebook. This one is all about love, personal growth, and getting back up. Fill it with beautiful images, reaffirming thoughts, and quotes. Write in it every day, and each day write one thing you’re grateful for in your life.”—Kim: Advice from a Mermaid in a Manhole (via julie911)
Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won’t have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren’t even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they’re doing it.