did good on my bread final
no no no no. you did well, not good. you do well, you are good.
thanks for the grammar lesson but I don’t need it. I’m majoring in bread
Sometimes the right thing and the hard thing are the same thing.
Sharon, an Irelander in London. 22 years old. I enjoy: pop culture, Arrested Development, the 90s, Game of Thrones, musicals, and planning trips to countries I can't afford just yet.
Sometimes, I make things in photoshop: here.
But here is the truth of nostalgia: we don’t feel it for who we were, but who we weren’t. We feel it for all the possibilities that were open to us, but that we didn’t take.
Time is like wax, dripping from a candle flame. In the moment, it is molten and falling, with the capability to transform into any shape. Then the moment passes, and the wax hits the table top and solidifies into the shape it will always be. It becomes the past, a solid single record of what happened, still holding in its wild curves and contours the potential of every shape it could have held.
It is impossible not to feel a little sad, looking at that bit of wax. That bit of the past. It is impossible not to think of all the wild forms that wax now will never take. The village, glimpsed from a train window, beautiful and impossible and impossibly beautiful on a mountaintop, and you wonder what it would be if you stepped off the train and walked up the trail to its quiet streets and lived there for the rest of your life. All variety of lost opportunity spied from the windows of public transportation, really. It can be overwhelming, this splattered, inert wax recording every turn not taken.
‘What’s the point?’ you ask. ‘Why bother?’ you say. But then you remember — I remember! — that we are even now in another bit of molten wax. We are in a moment that is still falling, still volatile, and we will never be anywhere else. We will always be in that most dangerous, most exciting, most possible time of all: the Now. Where we never can know what shape the next moment will take. Stay tuned next for, well…let’s just find out together, shall we?
1. Sometimes you’ll be like, “HEY EVERYONE LET’S DO SUSHI AND DRINKS AND FUN STUFF TOMORROW NIGHT!” but then tomorrow night comes and you regret everything as you try to weasel your way out of plans that you created. You resent 24-Hours-Ago-You for being so enthusiastic.14 Struggles Of Being Happy and Social Or Sad and Standoffish With No In-between (via varjaks)
Philip Seymour Hoffman on Happiness
Philip Seymour Hoffman died on February 2, 2014, but little more than a year earlier, the Oscar-winning actor was giving an introspective (and eerily premonitory) interview about the meaning of happiness with philosopher Simon Critchley at the Rubin Museum of Art.
“Pleasure’s not happiness. I kill pleasure — I take too much of it and then therefore make it unpleasurable,” Hoffman mused in the previously unaired interview, which has been turned into an animated short by David Gerlach and Patrick Smith. “There is no pleasure that I haven’t actually made myself sick on.”
Smith animated the conversation for PBS Digital Studios’ “ Blank on Blank” series. In it, the performer discussed what happiness meant to him, how he really only found it with his three children, and how he struggled to keep the past from creeping back in to the present.
“Meditation is actually coming right up to the lip of death and saying ‘I’m here, I’m scared.’ That’s life,” Hoffman observed. “If you can actually live in that place … learning how to die is therefore learning how to live.”
Miss Elizabeth. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you… I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family’s expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.