Three Goblin Art
if i look back, i am lost
hello vonnie
đȘŒ
One Nice Bug Per Day
@theartofmadeline
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Today's Document
No title available
wallacepolsom
izzy's playlists!
tumblr dot com
d e v o n
PR's Tumblrdome
sheepfilms
dirt enthusiast
Show & Tell
h
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
todays bird
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Russia
@frenchgelato
Pharissees Part I
We ought to be mindful of our thoughts, words, deeds, un-deeds enough to mind the hurts we take and give. We are as capable as the heroes we claim we are as the villains we passionately abhor. We are two sides of a coin as are we multiweave of a fabric. We are individual sums, not solitary perfections. We are only whole, not holy.
I trust someone will find us, even when we are still looking for ourselves. And that someone will keep us, even when we keep looking. And when we finally find ourselves, they will gladly say, "welcome home."
i can.not.even...
http://bit.ly/19WCDjX
Yesterday i find out Song Joong Ki will be discharged from the army come May. Rejoice is me. And he has confirmed a comeback drama, Descendants of the Sun. Double rejoice is me.
Descendants of the Sun is a story about a UN peacekeeper who falls in love with a doctor from Doctors Without Borders.
Is this deja vu? This plot sounds oddly familiar. Some story some author-wanna be has been setting her life-script to be. Some story that fascinated me in the advent of the Jolie-Owen flick Without Borders. Contemporary relevant, socially important, unsung heroes - yes, i have illusions of a life like that.
And my Korean actor bias is in the ranks. He took this role! I have so much respect for actors who make keen choices on the roles they play. He is now, officially, been put on a pedestal, the rung right above Rain, across Won Bin. And i know he will deliver.
Today, i find out Song Hye Kyu confirms her role as the doctor-love interest-heroine. This is too much. SHK, my Korean actress bias goddess - in the story i had imagined my life to be. My tears will flood the Amazon and salt it full. I can only sigh, breathe, exist. My life, in the inks of my mind, in the traces of my soul, played by the one beautiful woman artist i never expect. Not because i am the least bit beautiful, although that really counts, but because, now i can see how this life cannot be for me.
This story will be told by a writer iâd like to think a kindred spirit, and i will watch it unfold in the being of the thespians i have adored. I can only be overwhelmed.
This is a dream i have kept in the drawers of my existence, and now, it flies, a kite in the arms of dreamers that is not me, it traverses the sun, but it burns not my skin. My life, in thoughts, in dreams, is all that differs in its reality. Nonetheless, i am happy. I can create, and yet separately, i am not in the fullness of that creation. Albeit some Big Guy up there has plotted me a surprise, He makes me see how this life can be. And that is more than enough.
AHJUSSI
the plot was thin, but, how gloriously it unfolded - the editing was exceptional.the violence is masculine - my kind of violence. :) and what incredible acting from the brilliance that is Won Bin.
Won Bin is a class of his own. And it indelibly marks on every single work he does. Simply incomparable, this actor, this man. He represents an era where men looked liked men and acted like gentlemen. It almost painfully makes you want to believe in chivalry again.
You who never arrived in my arms, Beloved, who were lost from the start, I don't even know what songs would please you. I have given up trying to recognize you in the surging wave of the next moment. All the immense images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape, cities, towers, and bridges, and unsuspected turns in the path, and those powerful lands that were once pulsing with the life of the gods-- all rise within me to mean you, who forever elude me. You, Beloved, who are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing. An open window in a country house-- , and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon,-- you had just walked down them and vanished. And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening...
Rilke, You Who Never Arrived
what better way to cap Valentine's night, 2015
Cheetos. Today, last year, I probably had you worried sick, and made you scared shit for weeks. Today, last year, was also the day my family entered the darkest weeks we have known. But today, last year, more than anything, you have put my trust back into family. I know, in those darkest times your prayers were probably the hardest, the loudest, tear-stricken, blood-stained - God was convinced He had to keep us, save us, protect us, carry us through. I knew then, as I know now, no family has ever had, or ever will, love and keep me the way you do. Know that I will always choose to be your blood, your forever wife, your family, your soulmate fifteen lifetimes over and beyond. Thank you. I love you.
okasan
today my mum reminded me to pray. and i realized just how long a time it is that i hadn't... to really pray, i'm afraid i hadn't
sometimes, my mum's curiosity about the circles i'm running in can be a good thing. most times i take my mum's words either as an order, an errand, the law upon which the planets must revolve in.
well, my mum and i are raising each other, we grew up together, that for for severely motivating advice i'd either seek it from the ends of the earth or flip the TV channels or burrow ink.
but today, i took her word as wisdom. pray. i get that a lot. i give that a lot, too. ironically, i do that a lot, too. then, i realized not as much as i used to of late.
sure, i pray. the very staple of the deed is how.
i realized, in all this chaos i am in, all these little devils burning in my sorry little soul, all this invasion i am consumed in, all these threatening grasp of malicious influence, dishonest connections in the clothe of friendship, all these feelings of insecurity, the feeling of shortcoming, the weakness of the mind as of the body, the frustration of a duty, the fleeting of a dream from the holds of my heart, the futile search/waiting party for love - i prayed even less as i slip through each spiral of desperate fall.
i have always been proud of my faith. and now my BrotherSaviorBestfriendGod has reminded me what very little i do to sustain that pride. and He sent me a message through the one person i have so long neglected to seek Him from - my mum.
i am too less, too little, too scared, too fragile, too small, and way too loved by an unsung mum given to me by a God who can only massively love the flawed in me.
the life of me, the death of me. my forever love - in a birthday suit!
Reflections on the cornerstone of our flourishing. "A principal fruit of friendship," Francis Bacon observed, "is the ease and discharge
me and my heart, we have issues. and these are the words straight out of this heart, straight to my face, and how it hurts, the damn truth.
i should seriously watch that Matrix trilogy then... for i only watched The Matrix, back when there was no mall here in my home city, and there was but one shabby stinking movie house, and i watched The Matrix despite all that and despite how i had a tight schedule prior to the Psychology class - all because i was in for Keanu Reeves - never knowing i'd come out of it a changed person :DÂ
I GOT ME A NEW CRUSH!!!!!!!!!!! i cannot believe i fell for the Akanishi Jin template, but i cannot help it!!!! suh-queeeee* this kid is just waaaaaayy too good-looking to ignore! and, what a steady actor. so wizened for a young age. it makes him all the most attractive.
because the looks were initially, really... okay.
but the characterization, geez i could buy a ton of it *swoon*
and yeah, Takeru Sato is his best bud. and boy, don't they look the same. but, though i met this kid late, i give him my bias. just cause. *major cradle snatching confession here*
oh, this kid's name: HARUMA MIURA. remember the name. this kid is the next big thing. Oguri Shun, Eita - your legacy is in continuum! <3 <3 <3
some conversation over dinner sometime in August:
mon pĂšre: Ann, tiwasa na imong pag-eskwela sa kung kanus-a dapat ha. moi: (swollen with guilt because i study a lot less harder than i should, pride because i know i am my father's pride, grateful because i am provided beyond i could ever ask for and pressured of the expectations) oo, Pa. mon pĂšre: (pause) ug... wala lang sa ta'y handa sa imong birthday ha, kay medyo kulang ta'g kwarta karon. kasabot man ka sa atong kahimtang, di ba? moi: (still trying to recover from the jambalaya of emotions from the previous exchange - saline water welled up my eyes as i fought the urge to jump for joy!) Pa, kadugay ra ko nag-sige ug hangyo ana! (finally, my life-long battlecry is fulfilled!)
thoughts: my dad and i have always argued about my birthdays to have a celebration, grand or simple. and we have clashed about it all the time. i get it, alright. every parent would always want to provide for their children, always would want to thank the universe for the life given to them. and i, its perpetual anarchist. i have always thought my birthday is my own and i shall spend it the way i want it:Â no crowds of people i hardly even know, no enormous preparations as that would entail too much housework pre- and post-occasion, and that i have always ONLY wanted ice cream. and my dad (and mum) is pretty consistent in failing all those personal requirements. thank the gods for this scenario.
although, i know my dad is pretty beaten about this shortcoming. he will be consumed by this tiny-parent failure while i rejoice in my misunderstood victory. i have always reasoned that they should be grateful to have a kid like me. always quiet, always requiring close to nothing. always getting out of trouble. i've never been the ordinary girl, i've never been the partying kind. in my head i'm pretty hostile to societal requirements. to every person his/her own. to every parent his/her best job he/she knows how to do. so, you may think what you lack Pa, but, you owe me nothing. You owe the universe nothing. It is i, that owe you beyond this life can ever accomplish. i love you Pa, with everything you made me become.
The Words. This is probably one of the most underrated films I've seen in this lifetime. Sleeper at the box office and panned by the critics - still, this deserves a look. True, the narrative was rather languid, but it was definitely well-acted. The plot is timeless and imaginative, although the script came out a little pale. Just a little. I was waiting for a quote that punches a hole through my heart, but it never came. Nonetheless, I'm not disappointed. Typical of Hollywood polish, the movie was a-glitter with Sexiest Man of the Year Bradley Cooper as an aspiring writer with mediocre talent for it, femme fatale Zoe Zaldana as the typical beautiful inside-out writer's wife, iconic Jeremy Irons as the Old Man who owns the story, and the dashing Ben Barnes as the Young Man - who played out the story. It's a story of a struggling writer who finds an old manuscript, and reading the words made him realize all the man he wanted to become and all the man he could never be. He wanted the words so bad that he re-wrote them - just so he could feel them flow through his fingers. His wife finds what he writes, weeps in the grandeur of his words and urges him to submit it to publishers. As expected, his words touches the heart of a publisher's wife and he is soon published to bestselling acclaim. The Old Man stumbles upon the awesome story of a young writer with the prolific gift for words, that he picks up the writer's book. And he reads the story of his life. The Old Man searches for the Young Writer - and in a realistic appeal to me - so he can tell the entire story of those words. This flick's duende is exactly that - no soapish agenda of justice, revenge and all vainglorious righteousness. It was simply the story of a man who never lived out his life apart from how he planned it to be. A story of a man who made poor decisions, a story of a man who dwelt in a past he failed to resolve, a man who had the gift for words and lost it. Sometimes, most of us, we only want our story to be told. And on a pseudo-critique note, I will never be settled at the loose ends of this movie. Like how Ben Barnes played out the story of the words in all sublime execution and yet never get main credit. And like how Olivia Wilde was in the main credits but her role was rather an unnecessary character. Fangirling biases aside.
Seamus Heaney - In Memoriam
 As usual in the classroom I wasnât paying attention. Daydreaming I expect perhaps about playing for Northern Ireland in the world cup or playing guitar at Wembley stadium. Aged 14 I hadnât quite switched on at school. I didnât know it yet but I was about to. Up to that point I was a C (ok D) student happy enough to get by with minimum effort. School was that place I got the bus to every day and got to play sports some days in the afternoons and not much more. Then Mark McKee started working as an english teacher and brought with him three secret weapons. The works of Van Morrison, Bob Dylan and one Mr Seamus Heaney. Yes, the day he arrived at the school would change my life but as I say I didnât know it yet.Â
As Mr McKee (as I knew him then, Mark he is to me now. Strange calling your teacher by their first name at any time in your life) began to read from the little volume of poetry in his hand I found myself, for the first time that day, maybe that week (sorry mum, this will all be news to you), actually listeningâŠ
âBetween my finger and my thumbâŠ
The course boot nestled on the lugâŠ
Loving their cool hardness in our handsâŠ
Nicking and slicing neatlyâŠ
The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slapÂ
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my headâŠâ
Mr Mckee was reading Digging by Seamus Heaney and I was hooked. I devoured the volume Death of a Naturalist then North, then Station Island, the lot. Seamus Heaney made me want to be a writer. I wrote poetry every day and was published at 15, many times. All of it terrible and I have to read it now, if I ever do, from behind splayed fingers but it started me on the path that would take me to here, sitting in California writing Snow Patrolâs seventh album after a 20 year career that has taken me around the world many times and shown me things I never dreamed of. Seeing the whole stadium become a giant Polish flag while grown men wept tears of joy during a U2 show after we supported them. Seeing the great barrier reef. Jumping from the tallest building in the southern hemisphere (long story). And realizing my childhood daydream of playing in Wembley Stadium. All this and so much more simply from reading Seamus Heaney as a 14 year old boy.
There are people, as my friend Gabrielle is fond of saying that are part of an âinvisible tribeâ. Artists and writers that touch people on a level that beds deeper into our souls and hearts. People of profound light, love and kindness that simply and maybe even without their knowledge make us and the world around them better. Stephen Fry is one. Guy Garvey another. To see them on the stage, screen or on the page makes us feel safer, happier, stronger, more centred and less confused by life and what the hell weâre doing here. I would make Heaney chieftain of that âinvisible tribeâ. A leader we could (and through his words we still of course can; and we must) get behind. A man to whom I expect the thought of being a leader would be ridiculous but these men and women, these are the ones we must get behind. People that lead with their words and deeds and not with the empty promises of election campaigns or the grandstanding of the pulpit. If we are as good as our words then Seamus Heaney is as good as any soul who worked this earth. The earth, the dirt, the sky, the sun, the birds, the wind, the men, the women, these are Heaneyâs great inspiration and love. He luxuriated in the language of the ground behind his feet and the sky above him. Words that will live forever. And thank god for that. And as he now, sadly, returns to the earth that inspired him we must return to his words for inspiration of our own. A call to arms for the invisible tribe, for the writers, artists, singers, players, thinkersâŠ
âBetween my finger and my thumb the squat pen rests. Iâll dig with itâ.Â
Digging. Seamus Heaney 1939 - 2013.
Gary Lightbody, frontman and songwriter for the band Snow Patrol, writes an earnest, privy eulogy about how one of the greatest Irish poets of our time forged him into the man he has become, and how this poet should mint what we make of ourselves and our dreams.
yes, this is me - whoever you are. if you turn out my way and you are this boy, yes this is me. will you still love me?
