This Is Real; This Is Me.

This Is Real; This Is Me. This is my personal blog.
This is my thoughts, pictures, things I like.

Reblogged from scrapbookbeta

briannathestrange:

baymax is literally all of us in robot form

Reblogged from marley-barbie

smilingsloth:

nohetero-superpotterlock:

good thing harry potter didnt choose slytherin

I. CANNOT. FUCKING. WAIT. FOR THIS.

GO WATCH THE TRAILER AKDJAIGKGGD!!!!

(Source: sebastianstoned)

Reblogged from zackisontumblr

animeliberationfront:

I literally overcame self esteem issues by making ironically over-arrogant claims because even if you’re joking about something a lot you start to believe it and that can totally work in a good way if you let it

Reblogged from kittiezandtittiez

(Source: kimberlycurves)

Reblogged from dutchster

averagefairy:

u ever text someone something risky and every second that they dont respond is another spike in ur blood pressure and u stare at your hand like why did u type that u fool its over the universe is crumbling to pieces this is my demise

"

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

"

Reblogged from alaskanvalentine

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

I’m really glad I read that.

(via selfesteampunk)

Reblogged from dutchster

mydisneystories:

tell me boy meets world wasn’t brilliant

tell me

(Source: wenchyfloozymoo)

"close enough"

Reblogged from joshpeck

anyone who’s ever tried to even out their eyeliner. (via logays)

(Source: beavisandsluthead)

asleepylioness:


Hi lioness
I thought id share a photo with you taken just after one of our spanking sessions.. She loves it when I leave a mark. I hope you don’t mind us sharing.

I love marks. I love spankings. I’m thrilled you shared it with us, thank you!

Reblogged from asleepylioness

asleepylioness:

Hi lioness

I thought id share a photo with you taken just after one of our spanking sessions.. She loves it when I leave a mark. I hope you don’t mind us sharing.

I love marks. I love spankings. I’m thrilled you shared it with us, thank you!

Shake It
MetroStation
Metro Station

Reblogged from driftedoff

vvayavvay:

mamalovebone:

imtomatocheeks:

Now, if she touches like this

Will you touch her right back?

bro remember when u listened to this song in the commons area of your middle school and you had a purple and black zebra case on your ipod and your background was a cartoon monster or cupcake and muffin that said ‘muffins are just ugly cupcakes’and you were wearing glittery converse and you teased and straightened your hair and wore a bow in itand you told everyone u got the bow at hot topic but you really got it at claires for 6.95 and you had like a whole dance choreographed in your head to this song but you never actually did it and then you went and talked about nightmare before christmas with your friend for an hour over skype

im gonna cry because the description punched me in the fucking soul.