Reblog if you’re currently writing a novel, even if it’s only in your head or scribbled in the back of a notebook somewhere.
Think about how many books don’t exist yet.
Jesus, the notes! It makes me happy that there is such going on in heads out there!
If this ever gets to 200,000, I’ll write a whole novel. XD
Benedict Cumberbatch reading poetry for reasons which are totally literary and not at all because OH MY GOD that voice.
This is my favorite part of the day. When I get to talk to you. ( I desperately wish I could put a smiley here but I haven’t figured out how to do the ones that are right side up.) Anyway, this is my favorite part of the day.
As for the title, I tried something new yesterday. I visited a church. As you know I have recently moved out of my parents house and into my own place. But I am not sure if I also mentioned that I changed cities during that process.
So in my new city I am without a “church home” as the kids say. I will keep my promise and tell you that I wasn’t really in a hurry to find one. But an opportunity presented itself and the only way to silence the voice in my head calling me a coward was take it.
When I arrived to the church I was reminded as to why I stopped going, a while back. I will take a brief pause here to tell you that I didn’t leave the faith. Jesus and I are still talking and are best buds. But I left the establishment. I left the hatred,the exclusivity, and the hypocrisy behind.
Here in my new city I haven’t even looked for a place. For a “church home” because I was hurt and in some cases angry but I figured I could not judge the people here based on events that happened years ago and in another place entirely. So I took that chance, I tried again.
But I don’t want to be a member of another tribe. That’s how it feels sometimes. Tribal membership. When I walked into that church last night it was like invading enemy territory or showing up some where I wasn’t supposed to be. I wasn’t greeted, or welcomed. They just pointed me to the room where the event was going to be and left me there. I think I was early but even still, it was unnerving.
I am sure that no one meant to be rude but they were. All of them. they walked by without saying hello, even the person who invited me did recognize or acknowledge me.
I felt so much like an outsider that I left the room to find sanctuary in the bathroom. The irony, needing sanctuary in a church from Christians.
I never found out what the program was supposed to be. After roughly 30 mins of being ignored and watching people interact with each other right next to me. I left. Maybe I took the cowards way out. Maybe if I would have stuck with it, endured the shunning it would have been okay. I will never know, but the more I think about it. I shouldn’t have had to, someone should have welcomed me. That is what I would have done. It is what I do.
That is reason I left and the reason I am sure many people don’t come at all. I will try again. It isn’t in my nature to give up entirely and I have hope that there is a place that is welcoming to visitors and strangers. That is the way Jesus was. He didn’t shun people (despite the evidence presented and perpetrated by the western church and Fox News). He was a “come as you are” kind of guy. So if we are Christians and I am, that means that I have to welcome people as they are. Furthermore I am hopeful and certain that I am not the only who believes this way. So there is a place somewhere that won’t require that I sign in blood and join them before I am welcomed among them. Or at least I hope.
Happy New Year! I’m thinking of starting a new project (sort-of): poetry verses post-crossing!
It functions the same way as post-crossing, but with poetry verses as the main focus instead of images. It doesn’t have to be the full poetry; just your favourite lines would do.
It need not have to be English poets; any language is fine, although it’ll be nice to include an English translation.
Or if you write poetry, feel free to share them too!
You can make your own postcard/cards, or you can modify ready-made ones.
Since a lot of us love poetry on tumblr, and some of us equally love getting concrete proper mail, I thought this will be a pretty neat idea to spread the love for poetry, discover new poets, and to make more friends.
If I can get 10 people who are up for this idea i.e. also willing to start the ball rolling, i’ll set up a new side-blog dedicated to this and lay out this poetry-postcrossing project in more details. If you are agreeable, drop me an ask!
come on guys, 7 more people and this will be good to go!
If you are still looking for people I would like to give it a shoot.
Twas the night before Sherlock and all through the earth
All the fangirls were squeeing with uncontained mirth.
The giffers were giffing the teasers with care
In hopes that new episodes soon would be there.
The slashers were nestled all snug in their beds
It is New Year’s Eve. I am not at a party, and I am not exactly celebrating either. I could be at a party, I was invited to a couple. But I’m not and since I’m not, I would like to get something off my chest . The point I want to make is that we bring in year after year with drunken nights we can’t remember and promises we have no intention of keeping.
I know that it may sound like (especially in this update) that I am saying that those things are wrong. That isn’t what I mean. What I am trying to work out even in my own head as I type is why do we do these things? Why at 22 years old when I say that I do not want to(insert age appropriate popular activity here) or why do I have to, am I punished, lectured or even threatened? Everyone is always talking about how being accepting is important, humane, right. To be anti- woman, gay, minority,poor, etc is not only politically incorrect but unpopular and it makes you a bad person.
I have yet to see the evidence of that. Sure the media rains down fire on people when they verbally set out of line. But we don’t change. We don’t, we promise to, we say we will and then we grab our normal, our status quo, our everyday and we put it on. We put it on and we stay the same. If I could be candid, what we really do is wait. We sit around and run our mouths and wait for someone, anyone to act. As long as that spot light doesn’t call us to action. Because we can’t see the future, and Fear whispers in our ears “What will history say?” So we sit and I say we because this is not an accusation. What it is, is an assessment of what I can observe looking into the mirror. I am guilty of everything that I am saying to you but I am saying it because I promised to honest.
I think at the heart of it all we want to change, we want to fix this broken world and make it better. I know that I do but…..That is the thing isn’t it. BUT…… I don’t know, I’m afraid, I can’t do it alone, fill in your BUT. I have already given you three of mine.
We are getting to the part where I am supposed to condemn the world that I see and all the people in it. I am supposed to vow that right here and right know that I will be better. That I will change.
I can’t do those things. Who am I to condemn anyone, even here in my own little corner of cyber-space behind a mask. So I won’t be pointing my virtual finger at your. I can’t, because like I said I do it to. I can’t promise you that I will change or that I will better because I don’t know if I will. And I am done with promises I know I can’t keep.
So instead of guilt, groundless hope and lies I will leave you with my words. They are all I have anyway. Do with them what you will.
Happy New Year
I would like to start by saying this is not mine but it is super funny and I wanted to shared it. Enjoy…
The Dog’s Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
The Cat’s Diary
Day 983 of My Captivity
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt todisgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a “good little hunter” I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of “allergies.” I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now …
P.S I got it here:
Okay I can tell you this because I think that at least some of you will understand. I have an uncommon first name. Because of that I have lived my life spelling it, pronouncing it and considering changing it. It is maddening in a way.
My plight has not been helped at all by my growing interest (obsession) with name etymology. Since my name isn’t Sarah, Sally, or Susan it isn’t easy finding its meaning. As of yet I have only been able to isolate half meanings. The meanings if names adjacent to mine in spelling or origin.
That however doesn’t give me closure, it only makes it more maddening, frustrating and infuriating. If those other names have meaning, why doesn’t mine? Our world is defined by words, every word has its own definition and history. I find that not knowing the history of the word that defines me is unsettling. My name is on a resume, job application, degree even in the phone book. People have the opportunity to define me before they have even meet me. I’m not saying that finding the meaning of my name will change who I am as a person but forewarned is forearmed, right?
I may be being a little paranoid. I recognized that, but even if it doesn’t matter to anyone else it matters to me. I want to know what my name means the same way most orphans want to know where they come from. As far as I’m concerned it is a common human struggle we all just manifest it in different ways.
Life is supposed to have meaning, that is why we dream, love, fight, and change. At the end of the race no matter what you believe, you what the time spend here to have meant something. For me, there are days that because I don’t know what my name means, I feel like it doesn’t mean anything.