Enaid on the Wing

my-girl-binx:

bythehammerofthor94:

deadjohn:

bassoonerthebetter:

lord-kitschener:

gothiccharmschool:

Faux pockets are an abomination. If you’re going to bother putting pocket flaps on something, add the G-d damn pockets. 

No love, 

Jilli

And make the pockets deeper, you soulless bastards.

You know what’s attractive?

Not this:

EVERYONE REBLOG THIS

On average, men’s pants have about 6 inch deep pockets.

IT’S 2013 AND WE STILL DON’T HAVE PANTS POCKETS EQUALITY

PANTS POCKETS EQUALITY!!!

YES! PANTS POCKETS EQUALITY!!!!

Marian Call’s ninth Adventure Quest Challenge seems simple: take a few moments to “make poetry.” Hit pause on your life. Think for a brief spell. The requested topic was “the bravest thing.” I read that and a thought struck me. I mentally ran off and scribbled down a few lines. Then I spent the next several hours questioning if I had the right answer. How can I qualify “the bravest thing” when there are so many brands of courage? Who am I to decide? Besides, it not like I can write anyway…

I claimed, for the record, that I wrote a poem for the challenge, but hadn’t the courage or conviction to post it. It was suggested to me that the bravest thing then may be to post it. I probably only have the guts to post this because it’s very late, but here it is, rough and questionable as it is:

A great ‘X’ upon her chest
The skin pulled back and pinned.
She’s sliced through muscle
And removed bone
All barriers to her heart have been cleared.

She loves purely and freely
Despite the history of pain.
No matter how many times it’s been abused,
She never shields her heart.

She loves recklessly,
Striving for more than mere existence,
Looking to Live with Love.
It may be the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. 

 (Is that even technically a poem? Does it matter?)

…we’re just… different. My friend and I decided this needed to be posted or commemorated or carved into stone tablets or something.

Friend: I love PLACES. I love being in them. I’m not sure a lot of people even notice them. And I love drooling over them.
Me:  You know, your next gift from me might be a bucket to match mine, decoratively labeled, “drool.”
Friend: Awww, matching drool buckets! That’s the sweetest thing ever.
Me: I knew you’d appreciate it. And when we grow so old and feeble that our eyes can no longer convey to our brain the drool-inducing pretty, they’ll still be useful (and somewhat adorable, in an old-person sorta way) as we sit beside one another in a nursing home debating Jones vs Solo in slurred tones as saliva continually dribbles out of our uncooperative, rheumatism-ridden jaws.
Friend: ROTFL
Me: I just spent WAY too much time on that speech. 
Friend: It was worth every second, I’m dying over here
Me: Greatest/worst mental image ever. 

The world has decided to flood Home State, I’m sitting here boiling and munchy, but Dog fell asleep resting against my hip and I refuse to move for the world while he’s there. It’s funny how you can forget all those things you whine about during the day and how much you hated every moment of it when Little Moments crop up and slap you in the face. All of a sudden, you’re standing there with a startled expression on your face wondering what just happened. A snap shift in perspective. We all need ‘em sometimes.

Weekends are lovely. I attended a yummy bridal luncheon on Saturday and a wicked awesome party hosted by my friend M on Sunday. We played several rounds of a game I’d previously considered overrated, Apples to Apples, followed by a trek through a mini-bamboo forest and a wander down a train track. I’m pretty sure my friends would kill me if I posted any the DDR videos I recorded.

You know how people dread Mondays? Yeah, not me. Mondays have become my favorite lately. Our friends  SR and AE come to the flat to read the newest Megan Whalen Turner book with S and C. I haven’t read The King of Attolia yet, so they won’t let me listen in for fear of spoilers, but there’s always chatter beforehand. Sometimes C plays piano and AE sings. The last few weeks there’s been food involved. (AE needs to stop being such an artist and remember to EAT). Before now, I never would have approved of something so ‘Girl’s Night-ish’, but it’s been so lovely I can hardly complain.

Not long ago my definition of “no life” was when fresh bruschetta, a shared bin of gelato, and maybe a homemade smoothie and a visit from friends was the highlight of your day. Now that happens to me every couple of days and I can’t imagine anything I’d rather be doing.

This evening entailed great adventures for me. My flatmates and I went out for a drink tonight. Well, mostly food seeing as we were all hungry and between the three of us, S was the only one drank anything even remotely alcoholic. We were technically at a bar though. I guess today was the last day of finals and downtown was crawling with celebratory collegians. Most of them were probably preparing to party and maybe get a little drunk. C, S, and I ate our appetizers, drank our water, and drove off to climb a nice big magnolia tree on a nearby campus.

I wish it had been lighter and I’d had my camera so I could share the magic, but a part of me is selfishly glad that it was my moment. None of us were wearing good climbing shoes, but I climbed to the top and teased them about staying so low to the ground. We had bark-throwing wars and listened to the nearby water fountain, just taking in the night. As we were leaving, I was inspired to get wet.

The lawn sprinklers were watering the strip of grass between two lanes of traffic, nobody was around and it prompted a quick round of, “if you’re game, I’m game.” Three seconds later, my shoes were shucked and I was running through a tunnel of mist. Run, run, run, sliiiide. Turn around and dodge my flatmates who were right behind me. Cartwheel. Cartwheel. Run, run, run, sliiiide. My pants were thoroughly soaked through, but it was perfect.

Home meant cleaning out the freezer. Which actually was somewhat hilarious. We finished three cartons of ice cream (the mint chip was handled straight up, there was enough moose tracks for three milkshakes, and the blackberry Cabernet sorbet flew solo) and tossed a ton of food out that belonged to a flatmate predating S and me. (How long has that been there?!) As of right now, we have two tupperware containers of mystery substances thawing on the counter. This could turn out very badly. One, (chili maybe?), was covered in probably a good half-inch of freezer burn. Ewww.

Personally, I think we had far more fun than any of those foolhardy “celebrating” kids. Plus, ours were yummier and won’t make us feel ill come morning.

Go climb a tree. Run in the sprinklers. Clean out a freezer with milkshakes and stay up way too late telling arbitrary stories. These are the things people take for granted. I endeavor to savor each one.