April 19, 2014

I love the idea of words staying around for a really long time and people walking along those words."

Portland’s Orange Lining Project is (one of many reasons) why I adore this city. Spent some time wandering along and then playing around with these words today. 

April 18, 2014

sexmusic:

fall in love // phantogram [until the ribbon breaks reimagination]

download the original via: amazon | itunes

April 18, 2014
"My life is a mess and I know that was a personal choice, but I feel like maybe it is time for me to un-choose that choice."

— Shoshanna, Girls. (via irandeckard)

(Source: listless-blue, via irandeckard)

April 18, 2014
littledidiknow:

Spirit animal

Spirit animal me today in Scottsdale for work

littledidiknow:

Spirit animal

Spirit animal me today in Scottsdale for work

(Source: flowergrowedwild, via bthnyktz)

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Filed under: GPOY 
April 17, 2014
"There is always something left to love."

— RIP, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. “I discovered to my joy that it is life, not death, that has no limits.” 

April 16, 2014
"You feel like telling him you’re not single in the way that he thinks you’re single. After all, you have yourself."

— Sloane Crosley

April 16, 2014

obsessed. 

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Filed under: hozier music 
April 16, 2014
5 o’clock shadow

5 o’clock shadow

April 14, 2014

When I let him into my apartment building for the first time, the stairwell smells distinctively sweet and strong, some combination of cream and honey, jasmine and orange blossoms. He exhales dramatically, “Woooof! The last person in here put on a little too much perfume.” But gardenia is a scent that lingers. It doesn’t necessarily mean that someone was wearing perfume, or even that they passed through here recently with a blossom. It could have been hours ago. The scent takes hold in my nostrils, sticking as we walk down the hallway and into my apartment. We leave the windows open, our skin hot and clammy, shoulders and noses a little pink from the first day of the year spent in the sun. He doesn’t leave until the morning. I smell gardenias in my dreams.

Gardenia was my mother’s favorite scent. She brought big, single blossoms home from flower shops and floated them in bowls or cups of water around the house, Georgia O’Keefe paintings curled inside chipped and lopsided coffee mugs shaped by my kindergarten-self’s clumsy hands. Gardenias are nocturnal flowers, blooming and sending out stronger odors overnight. In the morning, the heavy fragrance of the one she placed on the windowsill in the upstairs bathroom would cling to the steam from her shower and crawl under my bedroom door, a natural alarm clock. My brother and I carried it on our clothes into classrooms, like laundry detergent. It was the smell of late spring, and of home, and I used to hate it. Throughout college, I would pinch my nose when I encountered it, refusing to let it take me back to that place. But, having been gone 10 years this summer, I catch myself inhaling deeply in the stairwell, friend’s houses, and flower shops, wherever I can catch a whiff, like a dog traveling through decades of history in mere seconds on a street corner. I still refuse to buy them, but I revel in those moments when the smell finds me, marveling at all the ways in which we revolt from and then miss and then eventually, reluctantly, become our parents.

He doesn’t leave until the morning, when I ask him, please, to go.

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Filed under: words Josie Curtis 
April 14, 2014
"The thing about these pieces is that they seem to assume that being alone is somehow worse than waking up every day next to someone who doesn’t excite and challenge you, who doesn’t share your values or your vision for the future, who doesn’t make you want to be the best version of yourself. I get bored easily. Every day I seek out ways to grow and change, to broaden my perspective on the world, to better understand the future, to become more interesting and complex, to be a better version of the person I was yesterday, and I need to be with someone who does the same. I want to marry someone I can build something with, bounce ideas off of, talk to for hours and still not want to sleep for fear of missing out on something going on inside of his head. I love to be alone more than almost anything else and I want to find the one person I could be with all the time and feel equally at peace. I want someone whose brain moves faster than mine and in a million different directions so that I have to get smarter just to fucking keep up. I want someone who plans for the future — not just his own future but for what the world will look like 5, 10, 20 years out. Someone who ravenously devours information, who quietly analyzes everything he takes in but in a way where I can see the wheels turning in his eyes.

And if I don’t meet this person, my backup plan is that I will become her. My backup plan is that I will spend my life with ME, and I will only let in a person who can compete with that scenario.

"

Kat O’Leary, "On Not Settling" (via meow-sense(via heylabodega)

(via heylabodega)

April 12, 2014
the calm before… losing ALL THE THINGS

the calm before… losing ALL THE THINGS