Welcome into the head of an obsessive, largely confused weirdo on the brink of adulthood and terrified about it.
Coralie. 19. 🇫🇷🇺🇸🇩🇪🍁
Student of political science and international relations in Montreal, but I also come from a mush of French (home country!) and American and German culture.
I have never hit reblog so fast in my LIFE.
the sexual tension when u and ur crush are online on fb at the same time and u just stare at their lil green dot
and suddenly you know what gatsby felt like
This is actually the most profound and appropriate literary allusion I’ve encountered so far this week.
oh my god
He did it. He actually managed to describe how it feels to live with depression and suicidal tendencies.
this is really, really important
the last four gifs are probably the most accurate way of describing my feelings towards my depression
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
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
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.
I’m really glad I read that.
I have read this before but it is still marvelous.
if you skipped all the way down, please take a minute and a half or two to read it. don’t skim: read it, let it soak in, try and let it resonate. i know it sounds cheesy as heck, but with all the negativity tonight i feel it’s good to add a little hope in the world.(via rider-waite)
seriously though, imagine if commercials for “men’s” razors staunchly, fearfully avoided ever showing a beard or stubble or any trace of facial hair whatsoever, as if made in a bizarre and inexplicable alternate universe in which the thing their product exists to groom doesn’t exist
just dudes grinnin’ coyly as they mime running razors over their baby-bottom smooth jawlines, eyes glazed over, not knowing what it is they do, or why, knowing merely that they must