Jaime. 20-something. Los Angeles. Film school grad. Film > digital. Fangirl. TV addict. Music junkie. Gig enthusiast. Photography dabbler. Infrequent writer. Lazy reader. Tea drinker. Coffee believer. Wanderlust sufferer. Anglophile. Card carrying Native American. Left leaning. Tree hugger. Empty moleskin hoarder. Pen collector. Fan of copious amounts of confetti. Generally one of those people who has too many interests for her own good.
And then one student said that happiness is what happens when you go to bed on the hottest night of the summer, a night so hot you can’t even wear a tee-shirt and you sleep on top of the sheets instead of under them, although try to sleep is probably more accurate. And then at some point late, late, late at night, say just a bit before dawn, the heat finally breaks and the night turns into cool and when you briefly wake up, you notice that you’re almost chilly, and in your groggy, half-consciousness, you reach over and pull the sheet around you and just that flimsy sheet makes it warm enough and you drift back off into a deep sleep. And it’s that reaching, that gesture, that reflex we have to pull what’s warm - whether it’s something or someone - toward us, that feeling we get when we do that, that feeling of being sad in the world and ready for sleep, that’s happiness. —Paul Schmidtberger, Design Flaws of the Human Condition (via larmoyante)
Not everything made you stronger. It was possible to survive, yet still be crippled for your trouble. Sometimes it was okay to run away, to skip the test, to chicken out. Or at least to get some help. —Scott Westerfeld (via thewinterwind)
New York City is a panic attack on Houston and Essex, it’s a broken down Q train, it’s a 45 minute schlep to work. New York City is finding yourself in your friend’s ex-girlfriend’s most recent ex-boyfriend’s apartment, it’s a roof in Brooklyn, it’s a bar in the East Village. New York City is a fake ID that expired 3 years ago, it’s an $8 show that changed your life, it’s a kitten found in a box 2 blocks from the office. New York City is a text message that was never responded to, it’s a photo pass to your favorite concert, it’s free drinks on a ship in mid-July. New York City is being in love with everyone you see, it’s a cup of coffee that makes you crazy, it’s your friend putting lipstick on you outside the venue 10 minutes before the show. New York City is platform shoes, it’s a pair of Converse, it’s taking a couple of Advil when you get home. New York City is thrifted treasure, it’s a stoop sale that saved your life, it’s the best cup of cocoa chai you’ve ever had. New York City is a sweaty room full of BK’s hippest, it’s missing an opportunity only to get another, it’s a lot of anxiously waiting. New York City is realizing your dream, it’s passing your current boss’s girlfriend on campus, it’s an iChat that got sent to the wrong person. New York City is a library full of tired kids, it’s a brownstone full of addicts, it’s a dorm room full of outsiders. New York City is a laugh attack in a quiet room, it’s a crick in your neck, it’s a stack of vinyl in your desk drawer. New York City is a walk to the waterfront, it’s an endless conversation, it’s 4 cups of tea in one work day. New York City is a revelation, it’s an exchange of words with the nicest stranger, it’s a never-ending beginning. —(via kathabblanskcas)