sing.dance.smile.

Hi. I'm Sara. Just your ordinary, everyday supernerd theatre lady living moments, making choices, and figuring out the future. And trying not to take anything too seriously along the way.

[pussypopstar]

I'm, above all else, a tangentgirl. always saying shit like "sidenote," "oh also," "by the way,"

[amygdalae]

There's something on the roof

[optimisticlucio]

[outdatedprometheus]

[memeuplift]

[foxpost-generator]

Octopuses can fit through any gap larger than their beak.

[therebloggening]

What a beautiful octopus.

[beyonce-knowles-carter]

ALADDIN (1992) FROZEN II (2019) HERCULES (1997)  101 DALMATIANS (1961) THE LITTLE MERMAID (1989) BEAUTY AND THE BEAST (1991)   THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG (2009) SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS (1937)

[catchymemes]

[litsnaps]

[empire-of-light]

GENE WILDER as WILLY WONKA in WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY (1971)

[quotefeeling]

“People go but how they left always stays.”

— Rupi Kaur

[filmnoirsbian]

Casual cruelty has become so ingrained in a lot of people because we live in a society that is structured in a cruel way. To be quite honest you are obligated to consider the harm of your words and actions no matter your personal hardships.

[ruinedchildhood]

[quotespile]

“I send this out to you, dear friends, before I go, in this instantaneous thought-burst, from a place where time slows and then stops and we may live forever in a single instant.”

— George Saunders, Lincoln in the Bardo

[taohun]

did you guys see the poem from a couple of days ago in poetry dot org’s daily poem it was so good and a treat to read 

[taohun]

been thinking about it since i read it 

[dwgif]

Doctor Who The Caretaker | 8.06

[fictionadventurer]

I need to inherit a cute little rural cottage from a great-aunt I never knew about and redecorate all the rooms and work in the gardens and bring life and beauty to the home. That would fix me, I think.

[fictionadventurer]

I love libraries.

I'm browsing the WWI shelves (as you do) and notice a very old book about the war. I glance at the first pages that talk about how one day the war will be over and we'll look at this place and not see any signs of the battlefield.

Then it hits me. And I check the publishing date.

This book was printed before the war's end. Not written. Printed. The physical object was created in 1918, while the war in question was raging and the end was as yet uncertain.

Now I'm standing on the other side of the apocalypse, with this physical link to that era in my hands. I'm living proof that the war did end and life did go on and we can all look at the end of the world as a long-ago memory.

Reading old books is cool enough, connecting our minds and hearts through the ideas of people who lived long ago, but there's something extra profound about holding a copy of the book that comes from the time that it was printed. It's a physical link between the past and the present connecting me to those long-ago people. A piece of the past come into the future that gives me the chance to almost take the hand of some long-ago reader, to hold something they could have held, connecting not just mentally but physically to their era, a moment of connection across more than a century.

Excuse me while I go weep.

[autistic-af]

In 1970, my mother's family adopted an intellectually disabled man named Horace. Horace was 56, and had been in an institution since 1921.

My uncle, who was 19, was working as an orderly at the institution where Horace lived. He only stayed a few months as the abuse he witnessed was too much for him. He had become friends with Horace and told him "I'll come back for you."

Horace replied "They all say that."

By that Christmas, Horace lived with my uncle and his family. My grandparents did the official adoption. Horace had never seen a Christmas tree, and that was his first real Christmas.

Horace died in 2010, at the age of 96. He laid down for a nap and just slipped away.

At least two generations of children grew up with him. He felt immortal to us. He loved Hot Wheels, pizza, cartoons and to talk to the portrait of my grandparents as he sat in his rocking chair.

He knew everyone's birthday. He loved unconditionally.

He had scars on his back from the institutions. If you asked him about that place, his face would screw up and he'd say "oh, it was a bad place. Bad place."

And for 40 years, he was safe, loved, and happy. He loved us in return.

No point to sharing this. But I still miss his laugh as he held a conversation with a portrait, whispering about his day to the people who had helped rescue him.

[autistic-af]

Memories of Horace:

He'd put anything in his pockets. This included pizza.

He would walk around the dining room table for hours, talking. The floor had shuffle marks.

I was forever called "the baby" because that's how he had met me.

We always joked that he would be the luckiest man in the world and would just die one day in his sleep. He did.

We also always joked that he had a free pass into heaven. He did.

[autistic-af]

Oh my god. 😭💕💕💕 The response to this in so little time is wonderful.

Horace deserved the world and I'm so happy his story moves people. Thank you for remembering him with me.