"

This is how you lose her.

You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.

You must remember when she forgets.

You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention.

She remembers when you forget.

You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her.

You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.

You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep her.

"

This Is How You Lose Her, Junot Diaz   (via pluteum)

(Source: 5000letters, via proletarianinstinct)

pitchforkreviewsreviews:

A few weeks ago, Emily Gould came over to a house my friend was housesitting at and we ordered Kimchi Grill and did an interview about our books at a picnic table in the backyard. There was a big picture of her on the cover of The New York Times Styles Section the day before and so she had come from The Gap, where she bought a big hat, which I thought was for her to be incognito on the subway but she said it was to protect her from the sun.

For me, it was an opportunity to ask another author the question “Do you think your book is better than mine?” For her, I think, it was a chance to ask, “Are you on drugs or are you always like this?” (that part got cut) and probably also an opportunity to get me to stop asking her to do stuff like interviews, blurb my book, hang out with me, etc. After we were finished, my friend who was housesitting asked Emily what she thought of the interview and she said, “It was good? It was weird!” Anyway, the interview is here. I hope you like it.

  • student: can i borrow a pencil
  • teacher: i don't know, CAN you?
  • student: yes, also colloquial irregularities occur frequently in any language and since you and the rest of our present company understood my intended meaning, being particular about the distinctions between "can" and "may" is purely pedantic and arguably pretentious
bostonxdickstrangler:

Still relevant. 

bostonxdickstrangler:

Still relevant. 

(Source: adrienneshelly, via terroristbakesale)

(Source: maddierose, via blood-period)

ultrafacts:

Source For more facts follow Ultrafacts

pilgrimkitty:

narcomanic:

narcomanic:

i’m pretty sure this twitter account is how sexting works in night vale

i mean really

image

image

image

image

what is going on here

Night Vale sexts!

(via molly-ren)

newshour:

"Prairie Home Companion" just celebrated 40 years. 
Garrison Keillor, creator and star of the public radio show, created the following limerick in honor of the milestone moment:
"Forty years is a long time to thriveAnd not take that long painful (dive)Stay low to the ground,Let the earth go round,And you’ll soon arrive at 45!”

newshour:

"Prairie Home Companion" just celebrated 40 years. 

Garrison Keillor, creator and star of the public radio show, created the following limerick in honor of the milestone moment:

"Forty years is a long time to thrive
And not take that long painful (dive)
Stay low to the ground,
Let the earth go round,
And you’ll soon arrive at 45!”

"I wonder what it is about the personal and the confessional in writing that brings out the critical pitchforks and knives, aimed at everything but the writer’s actual words — particularly regarding the truth about women’s lives. It’s a double-edged sword, it seems: women, particularly women in their 20s, do have a quick road to publishing success when they are writing about their young and modern lives, particularly when there is the whiff of sex or scandal."

— Elisabeth Donnelly, Why Does Women’s Confessional Writing Get People So Riled Up? (via flavorpill)