This poem was brought to my attention by the blog Cup of Jo. It really got me today. The imagery is so beautiful and heartbreaking. It reminded me that everyone, absolutely everyone, struggles. And often the person who struggles the most appears the most outwardly composed. I’ve been that person at times, and like to think I am more empathetic and aware because of it. The last stanza sent chills down my spine!
I cry on airplanes. Every. Single. Time. Long or short, international or domestic, alone or with others, it doesn’t matter. You can bet I will be tearing up before we begin our descent. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because I am trapped in a metal tube barreling across the earth, or maybe because I’m removed from my daily reality. Some studies have proposed the altitude leads to a lack of oxygen (hypoxia) which can heightened emotions. Whatever it is, I know I’m not alone in this. On a recent flight to London, I noticed the man next to me tear up and then hide under his blanket!
So tell me, are you more vulnerable on airplanes? Do you stare out the window while listening to emo music? Or is that just me?
Ps. Photo via here
I am not someone who typically makes a big deal out of Valentines Day. I’m in the “every day should be valentines day” camp. But this year is my first year to have a proper boyfriend on February 14th (gasp). And although it sounds cliché, being someone’s girlfriend has made me a bit mushy. I’m not even with him today, in fact, we are on different continents! But I just want to shout out into the internet void- happy Valentines Day, Trey! It has been nice to learn more about the nature of love from you these past six months.
I am reading a few different books at once right now. Do you ever do that? I find it helps keep me entertained and engaged to have multiple different genres.
The Dip by Seth Godin
This book is all about how to quit and quit well. Are you in a dip or a dead end? How do you use your resources well and not exert energy on things that won’t pay off in the end? Easy to read and highly insightful.
The Animators by Kayla Rae Whitaker
Best friends since college, two young women work as animators in the male dominated field. They live a rough and tumble life style, and try to make it big without ruining their friendship or the relationships around them in the process.
The One and Only by Emily Giffin
This book hits close to home. It is about a woman who is obsessed with football in her small Texas college town (ahem, Baylor is that you??). She starts dating a football star but when a scandal breaks out, she starts to realized that her comfortable life may not be everything she thought…
I need recommendations for my upcoming travels. Give me all the tips!
P.s. photo by Thought Catalog
Cover letters suck to write
Friendship takes time, be patient
January is the worst but February is shorter
Call your mom, her voice will fix it
Studying is like a job. Just sit down and do it.
Volleyball is really fun, even in German
Tell your boyfriend you love him often
P.s. Photo from Google photos. I love you, coffee.
Sitting in a cafe for hours on end, drinking coffee, talking philosophy, watching bike riders pass by with flowers in their basket, happy people with free health care strolling down sunny cobble stone streets, staring wistfully out of train windows while fitting emotional music plays in the background.
Running late for the bus, sweaty, running late for the train, sweaty, climbing four flights of stairs to my apartment, sweaty, lugging backpacks full of groceries on my bike in the snow, cold and sweaty, emptying the food leftovers from the sink to the waste bin because there’s no garbage disposal, sorting my trash into six specific bins, everyone dressed in black from head to to because we haven’t seen the sun in five months.
Funny how life has a way of surprising us, isn’t it? I am somehow who sets her expectations very high (curse you, American idealism!!), and constantly has to check them and reassess.
I complain sometimes, especially in winter, but still have a huge soft spot in my heart for you, Europe. Thanks for being a continent.
Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he’d call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, Speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love’s austere and lonely offices? -Robert Hayden