i see your star @sunyue-blog - Tumblr Blog

Living in LA makes you soft.

It is my seventh winter here. My seventh frostless November, my seventh Christmas music in 70 degree weather, my seventh Ugg boots paired with short shorts and a cardigan. I now pull my coat tighter in weather I used to embrace with bare, open arms. If “soft” means “stay the same,” I think I could have. It is very easy to stay comfortable in LA. There is a glamour on this city. The endless sunny days fuck with your sense of time. You no longer check the weather before you step outside, confident that today will be the same as yesterday and tomorrow will be the same as today. Adult life lends itself to routine. Everyone gets in a car to drive to the same place every day. Life slows to a crawl that matches the traffic clogging our freeways--the world’s slowest lazy river in a city never washed clean by rain.

But then I think about how this place has become home. I think about how I’ve replaced dancing in the rain with dancing in a standstill car, laughing and singing. I think about how, in the summer, I’ve learned to scan the horizon for the dark gray of smoke rather than thunderclouds. I think about the awe I felt the first time I stepped out of a car in late summer to a sepia-toned version of my neighborhood. (My friends laughed at me. It’s just the wildfire, they said, as if “just” and “wildfire” belonged in the same sentence.)

I think about the stories I’ve heard and the lives I’ve been lucky to be a part of. I think about waking up at 5:30 in the morning and heading home at 5:30 at night every day for a year, and how that year was the best year of my life.

I think about the hardest conversations I’ve ever had. I think about the people who have told me they were at the end of their rope, how many times I’ve felt like I was holding on to their lifeline, scared that letting go would mean their fall. I’ve had to learn I can’t be the only one holding on to their rope. I’ve had to learn what it means to love and, more importantly, how I love to be loved. I’ve lost count of the number of conversations I’ve had to push through, my hands shaking, my heart about to pound its way out of my chest. And then--maybe the hardest part--I wake up and do it all over again.

Living in LA makes you soft. It can. But I’ve chosen otherwise.

melisica

#taipei

thepigeongazette

one screw to make, one screw up to take

#omfg

notonyourbarricade

It was a huge disappointment as a child to fall in love with the stars and then find out how much math it requires to get anywhere near them.

mythgrunge-deactivated20150420

Tell me how it is, being the sun. You could walk into a room and they’d all be watching you. They’d all get down on their knees. I ask you how it is, and you say, “It hurts. It hurts.”

R. Wright; Sunlit (via cactuslungs)

brutereason

Most writers were the kids who easily, almost automatically, got A’s in English class. (There are exceptions, but they often also seem to be exceptions to the general writerly habit of putting off writing as long as possible.) At an early age, when grammar school teachers were struggling to inculcate the lesson that effort was the main key to success in school, these future scribblers gave the obvious lie to this assertion. Where others read haltingly, they were plowing two grades ahead in the reading workbooks. These are the kids who turned in a completed YA novel for their fifth-grade project. It isn’t that they never failed, but at a very early age, they didn’t have to fail much; their natural talents kept them at the head of the class. This teaches a very bad, very false lesson: that success in work mostly depends on natural talent. Unfortunately, when you are a professional writer, you are competing with all the other kids who were at the top of their English classes. Your stuff may not—indeed, probably won’t—be the best anymore. If you’ve spent most of your life cruising ahead on natural ability, doing what came easily and quickly, every word you write becomes a test of just how much ability you have, every article a referendum on how good a writer you are. As long as you have not written that article, that speech, that novel, it could still be good. Before you take to the keys, you are Proust and Oscar Wilde and George Orwell all rolled up into one delicious package. By the time you’re finished, you’re more like one of those 1940’s pulp hacks who strung hundred-page paragraphs together with semicolons because it was too much effort to figure out where the sentence should end.

Why Writers Are the Worst Procrastinators - Megan McArdle - The Atlantic

The Why Writing Is So Hard field of psychology is very interesting to me.

(via abbrasions)

I FEEL VERY ATTACKED

(via kaylapocalypse)

dijetedrago

me, a sensitive and very emotional person who cries easily and can’t take any criticism: i wanna fight someone

sir-orfeo

but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.

Richard Siken, from Seaside Improvisation (via violentwavesofemotion)

#ouch

jon-snow

Mallory Ortberg, WHY ARE YOU LONELY: A TEXT GAME (The Toast)

brutereason

It’s difficult to organize your life around friendship in a world that’s built for couples, and it’s doubly difficult when your time with friends is seen as a fun extracurricular instead of a basic human need.

Relying on Friends in a World Made for Couples – The Cut (via thaxted)

supplehearts-archive

Planets i learned about via youtube while procrastinating my english essay

Planet 55 Cancri e is basically a giant diamond. like the planet is a diamond. and it would be worth $26.9 nonillion

Planet Gliese 436 b is an ice planet that is constantly on fire do to its close proximity to its parent star. the ice doesn’t melt bc the planet’s gravity is so strong it physically prevents the ice from melting

Planet HD 189733b rains sideways glass…. constantly

Planet J1407-B has planetary rings that are 200x the size of saturn. if saturn’s ring were as big as J1407-B’s we’d be able to see them with our naked eye from earth AND they would dominate our sky and look larger than a full moon

Planet Wasp-12b rotates so close to its parent star that its slowly being consumed by the it

Planet Gliese 581c is one of the candidates for a planet that can support life however it orbits a tiny dwarf star and is tidally locked so one side is constantly subject to immense sunlight while the other is constantly in darkness. there’s a small area of the planet however, that is just the right temp to support life. u just can’t step out of said area. the skies are red and the plants would have be a black color instead of a green bc they would use infrared light for photosynthesis. (a message was actually sent to the planet in 2008 in hopes that there’s life on the planet but the message wont reach the planet until 2029).

Planet GJ 1214b is a water planet nicknamed “water world” is has no land at all and the water is so deep it goes down miles all the way to the planet’s core.

Planet Wasp-17b is the largest planet discovered thus far. its so large its existence contradicts our understanding of how planets are formed. and it has a retrograde orbit, so it orbits in the opposite direction of its parent star.

Planet HD 188753 has 3 suns you should have triple shadows and there would be almost daily eclipses. and no matter which direction u face on the planet u would always see a sunset

Planet HD106906b is the loneliest planet discovered thus far. its known as “super jupiter” bc its 11x bigger than jupiter. it orbits its parent star at a distance of 60 billion miles (which is v strange) hence why its the loneliest planet.

Planet Tres 2b is the darkest planet known. it reflects less than 1% of light (it reflects less light than coal and black acrylic paint). the tiny part of the planet that does reflect light is red making the planet glow a dim red.

power-chords

How do I know I am a millennial? I require no explanation for anything entertaining. I show my folks a funny video of a cockatoo having an argument with a dude jumping on its empty cage, and they’re like, Where did you find this? Why is that happening? I don’t know. I don’t care. It was on the Internet. That’s the only context I can give you.

justsingyourlifeaway

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries, took the bus home, carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment and cooked myself dinner. You and I may have different definitions of a good day. This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill, worked 60 hours between my two jobs, only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks and slept like a rock. Flossed in the morning, locked my door, and remembered to buy eggs. My mother is proud of me. It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course. She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale” with, “Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs” But she is proud. See, she remembers what came before this. The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles, how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks. She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide. These were the bad days. My life was a gift that I wanted to return. My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs. Depression, is a good lover. So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you. And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world, That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting. It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created. Today, I slept in until 10, cleaned every dish I own, fought with the bank, took care of paperwork. You and I might have different definitions of adulthood. I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college, but I don’t speak for others anymore, and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for. And my mother is proud of me. I burned down a house of depression, I painted over murals of greyscale, and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live But today, I want to live. I didn’t salivate over sharp knives, or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge. I just cleaned my bathroom, did the laundry, called my brother. Told him, “it was a good day.

Kait Rokowski (A Good Day)

oh no, I’m crying

(via littlecatlady)

“Depression is a good lover” is the most succinct explanation of depression I’ve ever heard.

(via the-cinnamon-peelers-wife)

I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.

(via queerradiantdarkness)

thanks

....you're welcome? o_o