She looks like a girl who walks with her feet.

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Alan Rickman

—My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

thatkindofwoman:

Alan Rickman reads Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks; 
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare. 

well, now.

(Source: tiny-sized, via ache)

Once upon a time, I was 17 years-old in Rome. It may be blurry but this is my absolute favorite picture. I still remember what I was thinking at that moment, looking out over the Roman Forum, living an adventure.

Once upon a time, I was 17 years-old in Rome.

It may be blurry but this is my absolute favorite picture. I still remember what I was thinking at that moment, looking out over the Roman Forum, living an adventure.

Attention class, write this down: this is the proper response to any Paulbot.

Attention class, write this down: this is the proper response to any Paulbot.

Vacations… as a Diagnostic Tool. From my blog in April, 2010: He and I went to Puerto Rico, drank a lot of beer, wandered around a rain forest, and swam in the ocean off the coast of a tiny island. And I was miserable. I cried whenever he wasn’t looking. I had way too much time to realize how much was wrong with us. As I ventured precariously into the water, the waves higher than any I’d ever attempted, I looked at him and said “I need you to pretend for five minutes that you’re my boyfriend and that you actually like me.” I said it as if I was asking to borrow his pen. I didn’t think about it before I said it; I just knew, at that moment, that that was what I needed. I needed him to act like he gave a damn just for a little while. He picked me up and helped me through the waves and we gave each other salty, wet smooches. It was the happiest I had been on the entire trip even though I got sand in my hair and was waterlogged for weeks afterward. Then we broke up. I am infinitely more productive and focused when I am single. I have a propensity to structure my life around the person I am dating… which would be fine if I ever did so with the right person, but that hasn’t happened yet. And I’m getting more OK with that every day.

Vacations… as a Diagnostic Tool.

From my blog in April, 2010:

He and I went to Puerto Rico, drank a lot of beer, wandered around a rain forest, and swam in the ocean off the coast of a tiny island. And I was miserable. I cried whenever he wasn’t looking. I had way too much time to realize how much was wrong with us. As I ventured precariously into the water, the waves higher than any I’d ever attempted, I looked at him and said “I need you to pretend for five minutes that you’re my boyfriend and that you actually like me.” I said it as if I was asking to borrow his pen. I didn’t think about it before I said it; I just knew, at that moment, that that was what I needed. I needed him to act like he gave a damn just for a little while. He picked me up and helped me through the waves and we gave each other salty, wet smooches. It was the happiest I had been on the entire trip even though I got sand in my hair and was waterlogged for weeks afterward.

Then we broke up.

I am infinitely more productive and focused when I am single. I have a propensity to structure my life around the person I am dating… which would be fine if I ever did so with the right person, but that hasn’t happened yet.

And I’m getting more OK with that every day.

Ne me quitte pas, mon cher.

Ne me quitte pas, mon cher.

Auribus Teneo Lupum

I deleted this a while ago and I missed it. So now I’m back… and it feels so empty.