Thinking and acknowledging that you might be kinda, sorta, maybe in love with someone is just border line torture. Uncertainty is a cold hard bitch. But the agony makes it real and worth your while. It makes you feel more human, it humbles you. You may crash and burn but in the end, you will be able to rise from the ashes and find the insurmountable strength to be happy again.
- 1 year ago
Time and time again. It is the same bloody unhealthy, sickening, same old thing again. Redundancy has become like a theme of sorts. It puts Groundhog Day to shame, like taking a candy from a cute little toddler.
- 2 years ago
From the coffee shop on the corner to the park down the street, all urbanites have a place they think of as the heart of their city. It’s where you go when you want to feel like a citizen of Memphis, New York City or San Francisco. It’s the place you think of as synonymous with Atlanta, Washington, D.C., or Portland, Ore. It’s what you talk about when someone asks, “What’s Chicago like?”
And even if your local office of tourism has never heard of it, we want to know what and where it is. We want you to show us the heart of your city. Is it the subway platform? The view from your favorite bridge? Snap a photo or make a quick recording, then send it our way via email (nprcities at npr dot org), Flickr (tag your photo #nprcities), Tumblr (tag your submission #nprcities) or SoundCloud (make sure your clip is downloadable).
Include your name, the name of the person who took the picture or recorded the sound, the location of the photo or audio (full address or street intersection, including city and state), and describe your submission in 300 characters (!!!) telling us what makes it the “heart of your city.”
As long as you can photograph it or record it, nothing’s too small! But we do have some guidelines:
1. No Liberty Bells, Please. Tourist attractions are fun to visit, but we’re looking for the part of your city that gets left out of the guidebooks.
2. Limit Your Sound Recordings To One Minute Or Less. We’re looking for sound that gives a sense of place.
3. Remember, We’re A Family-Friendly Website. This probably goes without saying, but please keep your submissions G-rated.
4. Sorry, No Videos Or Animated GIFs. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get creative.
5. Think Public Spaces. The basement your band practices in may be SO Detroit, but we’re looking for places everyone can experience.
Photo credit: esemelwe/iStockphoto.com
sweet! love this idea! x
i miss you. terribly so. I came across this achingly beautiful quote when i had least expect for something like it to have struck a chord in me. stirring all sorts of exhausting emotions, draining all the positivity in me, the part that has been telling me to remain logical no longer exists, thanks to this -
"The hardest part of dreaming about someone you love is having to wake up," - Anon.
I don’t want to fall in a deep slumber, if it is ever possible.
why do i still think about you?
- 2 years ago
it came to my attention recently while i was surrounded with a small number of friends, that i have an obvious character flaw; that i am bossy. the way i see it, that was like a polite way to say ‘control freak’. the thing that irked me and got me all bugged out was the amount of time it was pointed out to me and to the people in attendance.
so am i really that bossy? sometimes it is hard, tiring and at times pretentious to act accordingly; to please the majority only to have yourself singled out as the odd one and in my case, the bossy one. i do prefer certain things to be done in a certain manner in order to achieve the desired outcome. perhaps the way i approach people in general is not seen as ‘user friendly’ or maybe i am just plain ol’ bossy?
how do i remedy this? i’ve always thought that when you are in the company of good people and friends, it is socially acceptable to be as blunt and open as long as certain lines are not crossed. maybe i got too comfortable and assumed that i was among good friends? or could it be that i am over thinking this non-issue and trying to punish myself unnecessarily? ah well.
another flaw of mine that has been causing concern for both myself and others is my questionable penmanship. i have always been into snail mailing rather than the direct and less time consuming method of electronic mail. i started writing letters since high school because i had to move a lot due to dad’s job hazards and soon after, i found solace in writing personal letters to my friends. recently though, it was brought to my attention that the recipients of my mails are finding it quite hard to read and understand my handwriting. some tell it straight to my face, some tried something subtle to break it to me, some resorted to sarcasm and some just laughed it off. either way, it all boils down to this: my handwriting needs improvement. i love to write using pen and paper because to me, it is like an intimate affair between my thoughts and actions that others cannot be apart of just because. i find it tedious to haul my beloved macbook to everywhere i go and my cell just consumes too much battery power when i am on my blogs. i hate the idea of looking for tables nearest to a power socket just so that i could charge both my electronic goods whenever the need arises. hence, my trusted moleskin and multi coloured ink pens.
ah well. i should probably do something to fix this. how can i have a doctor’s handwriting when i am not?
- 2 years ago
that sinking feeling you get, the very same one that you can seem to get rid off no matter how hard you try; the helplessness and sick anticipation for something that you know would never come.
resistance is futile, so you continue to wait for you have longed for it to come.
the emptiness you get from doing all the waiting is filing the void like pouring rain but still, you dare to hope for it to come.
the self contradiction is driving you to the brink of insanity and yet, you are waiting for it to come.
i will keep on waiting till i no longer can.
i will wait for it to come.
- 2 years ago
as i was folding my clothes from the overdue laundry, i noticed my pair of lucky pink socks. the last time i was wearing them, was also the last time i was with you. it was pouring so bad that day, we both got completely drenched and i remembered my lucky socks were without a doubt, soaked in my kicks. they were practically swimming in them, but we kept on walking in the rain while i silently counting the minutes to your definite departure. then you said to me, “imagine if you hadn’t been wearing them,” right. duly noted. note to self: lucky pink socks might need more juice.
i’m keeping the socks for safe keeping. overflowing thoughts and memories are messing with my emotions.
my lucky pink socks have lost their mojo. don’t think they can keep my feet warm anymore.