#anedote

[sleeplesssmol]

Cristallo's condition is something akin to cancer.

She requires radiotherapy, which she gets from the machine she has with her. Vertin and Ms. Moissan take a lot of precautions for her safety, including making accommodations to her room.

[therobotmonster]

My morning got off to a weird start.

And you get to be unable to escape it! Here’s what went down.

Earlier in the week, I had just finished a top-to-bottom cleaning of my apartment with my sister’s help because the complex was spraying, so everything’s hauled out of the kitchen, and thus far I’d just moved the microwave back in.

Wake up, go into the kitchen, microwave some taquitos, the breakfast of Dungeon Masters™*

Waiting for taquitos, notice there’s a wrapped peppermint on top of the microwave. Ponder eating it, not in the mood for candy.

Taquitos nuked. I grab ‘em and start heading back to my desk.

Stop.

What was on top of the microwave? 

Turn around.

Realize, now less groggy, that a single, wrapped peppermint is dead-center on the otherwise spotless microwave.

All the food is in boxes in the dining room. I moved one thing into the kitchen, the microwave.

I don’t buy peppermints.

I think back to the last time I got groceries delivered, they sometimes include a little mint or candy with the tip-reminder... haven’t had anything delivered since last week. 

Start looking around. Was someone here? 

Is this a threat? Is this a calling card? 

Fuck, I’m going to be the first victim of the room service killer, aren’t I?

What if it’s NOT the Room Service killer? Is this really the day I want to be proven wrong in the family fair folk/night terrors debate?

There has to be a rational explanation! Think...

No, I can’t think of any reason there’d be a single peppermint in my kitchen, the only place I went that even had food yesterday was-

Oh.

I went to Sonic yesterday, didn’t I?

Put the torn bag right on the microwave.

Debate if this is more embarrassing than content worthy.

Post it anyway.

*I am fully open to being a shill for Big Taquito (as in the sinister consortium of taquito makers, not Alonso  “Big Taquito” Chamborg, DDS., as I have been encouraged to clarify by the lawyers representing Alonso  “Big Taquito” Chamborg, DDS and associates.)

[bostonwindbreaker]

the swan and the caged bird

A Short Story

Everyone thought I was elegant, perfect: the epitome of academic excellence, creatively well-rounded, every parent’s dream. But I was alone. How would they know, the value of my character, if those truly wonderful were past the next town, over the sunset. 

By myself, I didn’t really find purpose until late, later than the cellist on my debate team, later than my actress mother. Of course, no one saw that, the flaw. And, when I did finally find myself, I wasn’t how I imagined. I was ugly, shattered from the inside out, broken by the world of comparisons I had created. With every criticism, I cried, tears falling past my music, the melodies I’d forgotten.

Later, I met Elli. She swooped into my life, even while trapped in a cage of rigid pillars, her parents’ creation. Every day, she sat down at my side, the seat that used to be taken, the seat coveted in some lost time.

And she told me, 

“You are beautiful.”

“You are powerful.”

“You are everything you dream of, you are unstoppable.”

And I never realized she couldn’t fly until I soared away.

[sylphicdreams]

once for first grade we had a little project that was like “decorate this turkey to hide it from the hunters!” which is a very dark idea if you think about it, for first graders at least. anyway everyone had fun with their turkies (turkeys?) like a nintendo themed turkey or a princess one but my little brain took that project so seriously that i put painstaking efforting into coloring inside of the lines to turn the turkey into a peacock with a little bucket of paint on the side (if you didn’t realize he was in disguise, of course) this is proof that i cannot take anything light-heartedly, only seriously anyway i won a contest i didn’t know was happening so everyone else can suck it

[thoughtfullytremendousearth-blog]

#Repost @thereal_pit @gcode256 with @repost app ......... #ANEDOTE #JUICE 💦

[monsenhornuus]

INTERLÚDIO DE AMOR

Cê já viu?

O quê

O tal do amor.

Que aconteceu com ele?

Não soube?

...

Oxi! Se estuporou todo.

E foi?

Não tô dizendo. Bicho tolo.

Ai ai mas não é assim o amor

Assim como?

Assim... cheinho de tolices

Santos

[stuffedbuss]

Growth and an old story.

We are caught on this giant ball of problems that spun from our desire for growth, and growth for growth sake ... is cancer. There's an old story about a tourist who sees a fisherman resting and asks why is he not working? The fisherman says that he already caught enough fish for today. The tourist explains that if he caught more fish, he could sell them, and use the money to buy another boat and more workers to fish for him. If he worked really hard then, in a few years, he'd have a whole fleet of boats and crews to man them. "Then what?". "Then you wouldn't have to work hard, you could rest during the day!". The fisherman replied: "That's what I am doing now".

[kpotteruky-blog]

"Hummingbird" by Alex Clare

“Hummingbird” by Alex Clare was a song I first heard during the summer before my senior year in high school. I was sitting on my front porch, browsing through a list of newly released songs on a program called Spotify, when I discovered it. When I clicked the song, I had no idea how significant it would be to me. The lyrics struck me, and immediately reminded me of Sara.

Most children grow up with a best friend. That one person that you know you can turn to no matter what happens. They’re someone you go to when you need a shoulder to lean on, and sometimes, they’re whom you speak to when you need advice. They’re the “hummingbird” that flies near you to offer you support. For me, my best friend and “hummingbird” was a girl named Sara. We met when I moved to the Raceland-Worthington school system for the third grade. Back then, silly stereotypes kept us from communicating, but by the time we reached high school, we found that our interests aligned. In the seventh grade, after sending me a message on Myspace that declared us both “best friends,” Sara became inseparable from me.

Music was an important part of our friendship. We both listened to the same genre of music, and would congregate in class to share our new song or band findings. I would go to her house and spend the night, and our hours together would be full of loud music. We yelled out the lyrics and danced around her room, spending time on our computers plotting when we would attend a concert. More often than not, we’d spent the weekends together at the mall. The mall became another place where we celebrated music. We shared an Ipod, an ear bud for each of us, and walked back and forth down the length of the mall discussing our favorite artists: Fall Out Boy, The Academy Is…, Panic! At the Disco. The list was endless.

We remained close friends for several years, but things between us became tense. As we grew older, we changed in very different ways. I was becoming set on my education, while Sara focused on spending time with boys or at parties. I no longer felt close to her because I couldn’t relate to her wild stories. The true divide began when Sara would come to me for advice. She would be in a tough situation, and I would struggle to find the right words to say to her. A night I will never forget is when she suddenly showed up at my house during the summer.

It was dark outside when she arrived, and she knocked on my door to tell me that she needed to speak to me. It was important. I obliged, and together, we walked down my street as we often did. As we rounded the corner, she broke down and admitted to me that she thought she was pregnant. At first I felt frustrated, not unlike a parent might feel. I had warned her several times to be careful, and whenever she asked for my opinions on boys or sex, I tried to tell her to be safe.

I cared so much for her, but I quickly discovered that she had lied to me about her scare. For reasons I still don’t understand, she gave me fake ultrasound photos as “proof” of her pregnancy. In reflection, I desperately wish that Sara didn’t “fly away” from me. I feel that she needed help but didn’t know how to ask for it. Instead of revealing her true problems, she created a fake pregnancy. Unfortunately, after the truth came out, and after a series of arguments over the next year, Sara and I were no longer friends.  

As Alex Clare says in his song, “Like a hummingbird in flight” Sara was “hovering around” me at a safe distance. However, when I would try to give it to her or “move near” her, close enough where I could actually help or understand what she was going through, she “flew away.” I often think about Sara, and our memories together “buzz around” my head. She meant so much to me, and I regret that we couldn’t have remained friends today. As the song explains, “the words you have said/remain with me after you’ve left.”

Sara and I never discovered Alex Clare, but his music is reminiscent of what we listened to then. It’s more mature than the pop/punk bands we listened to, which perhaps shows how much I’ve grown since my time with her. After listening to the song again and comparing my friendship to it, I think people forget that love is not limited to a romantic couple. I loved Sara as if she was my sister, and I felt this song (although it seems to imply a couple) portrayed how I felt during some of the times I spent with her. I believe that music can be interpreted in different ways other than the obvious, and that “love” can be extended to several different types of relationships. Why do “love songs” need to be limited to a romantic relationship? Love is such a powerful emotion, and many songs are born from feelings of love and trust.

“Hummingbird” by Alex Clare is a song that for me, summarizes how helpless I felt when my friend “flew away” from me.  It is also a song that forced me to analyze the theme of love within music; I first thought “Hummingbird” could only be applied to a couple, but I connected to it easily. I miss my own “hummingbird,” and I think many people find their “hummingbirds” within songs.