We didn’t have a stick of furniture. We would have picnics in the living room. We ate when we felt like it. Stayed up all night when we wanted. We vowed never to fall into routine, to go to bed or wake up at the same time. We lived on that mattress.

(via stephbird)

youbroketheinternet:

Truth

My kind of writing. Perfection. Realness.

(via witanddelight)

Want my hair did like this. 

(via witanddelight)

I love you Ron Swanson. <3

(via shimmyandshake)

Word to your motherrrrrr.

(via thatkindofwoman)

“If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Too true, too true.

“Wherever you are, be there totally. If you find your here and now intolerable and it makes you unhappy, you have three options: remove yourself from the situation, change it, or accept it totally.”

Eckhart Tolle

thatkindofwoman:

bolus:

Grand Central at New Years Eve, NYC, 1969 by Leonard Freed

To be in this city, for this night, in this year is rather fantastic. I never thought I would have the adventures I am having, and I think that’s what makes this year so fantastic. 

Amen.

(via etiquetteforalady)

sydni:

fuckyeahcliffordmattis:

gutty:

I had read and enjoyed this rant a few years ago when I read it, but I just stumbled upon it again today.  I think he talks a lot about not letting the judgments of others play into your everyday decision making. Anyway I could never do it justice so I will post my favorite part here:

You want to know how big a sellout I am?

A few months ago I wrote an article for Time magazine and was paid $12,000 for it I am about to write something, 1,000 words, 3 pages or so, for something called Forbes ASAP, and for that I will be paid $6,000 For two years, until five months ago, I was on the payroll of ESPN magazine, as a consultant and sometime contributor. I was paid handsomely for doing very little. Same with my stint at Esquire. One year I spent there, with little to no duties. I wore khakis every day. Another Might editor and I, for almost a year, contributed to Details magazine, under pseudonyms, and were paid $2000 each for what never amounted to more than 10 minutes work - honestly never more than that. People from Hollywood want to make my book into a movie, and I am probably going to let them do so, and they will likely pay me a great deal of money for the privilege.

Do I care about this money? I do. Will I keep this money? Very little of it. Within the year I will have given away almost a million dollars to about 100 charities and individuals, benefiting everything from hospice care to an artist who makes sculptures from Burger King bags. And the rest will be going into publishing books through McSweeney’s. Would I have been able to publish McSweeney’s if I had not worked at Esquire? Probably not. Where is the $6000 from Forbes going? To a guy named Joe Polevy, who wants to write a book about the effects of radiator noise on children in New England.

Now, what if I were keeping all the money? What if I were buying property in St. Kitt’s or blew it all on live-in prostitutes? What if, for example, I was, a few nights ago, sitting at a table in SoHo with a bunch of Hollywood slash celebrity acquaintances, one of whom I went to high school with, and one of whom was Puff Daddy? Would that make me a sellout? Would that mean I was a force of evil?

What if a few nights before that I was at the home of Julian Schnabel, at a party featuring Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro, and at which Schnabel said we should get together to talk about him possibly directing my movie? And what if I said sure, let’s?

Would all that make me a sellout? Would I be uncool? Would it have been more cool to not go to this party, or to not have written that book, or done that interview, or to have refused millions from Hollywood?

The thing is, I really like saying yes. I like new things, projects, plans, getting people together and doing something, trying something, even when it’s corny or stupid. I am not good at saying no. And I do not get along with people who say no. When you die, and it really could be this afternoon, under the same bus wheels I’ll stick my head if need be, you will not be happy about having said no. You will be kicking your ass about all the no’s you’ve said. No to that opportunity, or no to that trip to Nova Scotia or no to that night out, or no to that project or no to that person who wants to be naked with you but you worry about what your friends will say.

No is for wimps. No is for pussies. No is to live small and embittered, cherishing the opportunities you missed because they might have sent the wrong message.

Holy shit, yes.

I fucking love Dave Eggers. Get it girl.

So. Fucking. Awesome.

Wow. 

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I want to go somewhere… and take this kind of photograph of the stars… and be somewhere like this… where they float all around me.

I love the hair and their cute matching sty-sty-style. Young lovin’ 

(via myvintageheart)

love her makeup

(via musingsinfemininity)

squaremeal:

Cranberry and Almond Upside Down Cakes

Would lovvvvve to make over break. 

(via thatkindofwoman)

Her mind is full of situations that will never happen. But they do happen, in her mind, over and over again. All the worst case scenarios, the best case scenarios and every single scenario in between. She imagines unimaginable situations, conversations, happenings. In her mind everything is possible, even the impossible. Sometimes her brain is so busy calculating all the ‘what-ifs?’, it has no time to do anything else. She has such trouble forgetting about all the things that could possibly, or impossibly, go wrong. Almost compulsively she has hundreds of variables in her head of how past situations could have gone different. Some of them keep coming back, they haunt her, they taunt her. She tries to oversee everything, not just this moment, but the next one, and the next day, and the next week, and the next month. She tries to figure out all the possibilities, so out of all of them she can try to make the best one actually happen. One of the possibilities is, stranger, that you let go. I know it is difficult, but you might be happy.

Story of me life. 

(via modernhepburn)