There is nothing in your life worth whining about. If you’ve been unhappy with your life for anything more than a month, you will DIE unhappy.

Reinvent yourself immediately.
In fact, reinvent yourself constantly.

Never commit to being any one person.

~seabound via Kiersten Holine

Don't live your life in regret of inertia, and of useless virtue, and timidity. Take up the battle. Take it up. This is your life.

-Maya Angelou

Skype and Shipping Labels

Nothing Personal (1964)

"...Pretend, for example, that you were born in Chicago and have never had the remotest desire to visit Hong Kong, which is only a name on a map for you; pretend that some convulsion, sometimes called accident, throws you into connection with a man or woman who lives in Hong Kong; and that you fall in love. Hong Kong will immediately cease to be a name and become the center of your life. And you may never know how many people live in Hong Kong. But you will know that one man or one woman lives there without whom you cannot live. And, this is how our lives are changed, and this is how we are redeemed.


What a journey this life is! Dependent, entirely, on things unseen. If your lover lives in Hong Kong and cannot get to Chicago, it will be necessary for you to go to Hong Kong. Perhaps you will spend your life there, and never see Chicago again. And you will, I assure you, as long as space and time divide you from anyone you love, discover a great deal about shipping routes, air planes, earthquake, famine, disease, and war. And you will always know what time it is in Hong Kong, for you love someone who lives there. And love will simply have no choice but to go into battle with space and time and, furthermore, to win."

– James Baldwin

The Last Text

He sits up in bed, willing his eyes to find their focus in the darkness. It's much too early to wake up, but his internal alarm clock begs to differ. He scans the room, slowly making out the shapes of carefully placed objects. He got his need for order from his mother. He sets his gaze upon the frame sitting on the chest of drawers. He can't see the photo held there, but he knows it by heart anyway. Every strand of hair. Every speck of gold in her eye. He subconsciously straightens the sheet over his legs. He grabs the cell phone sitting on his nightstand. "No new messages". He checks the time. 3:43am. He stares at the numbers as he silently calculates that it's been almost 10 hours since he sent her the last text. The dim glow on his face quickly vanishes as the phone goes back to sleep. He kicks himself for not saying something more open-ended in that last text. Something that would require a response. Instead he had forgotten himself and chosen the mundane, and terribly overused, "LOL". Now she has the upper hand. He has lost control. He shifts in bed and looks back to the picture frame. He can't see the picture but he knows her smile well. It's an easy smile. Slightly crooked. It is now as if she is silently mocking him with that smile. He contemplates sending another text but quickly talks himself out of it. Wouldn't want to look too desperate. He must wait. He absentmindedly shifts the pillows so that they are evenly aligned on the headboard. He looks down, hopelessly, at the dark cell phone in his hand. Nothing he can do now. He sent the last text.

If she’s amazing, she wont be easy.

If she’s easy, she wont be amazing.

If she’s worth it, you wont give up.

If you give up, you’re not worthy.

Gorgeous...