#ugh #steve didnt even fucking use the shield he had in his hand #he just puched zola in the face #and it’s not a face #it’s a screen #and it just keeps turning on#mocking him #natasha calls him ‘chipper’ later #for a guy who found out he died for nothing#dont be fooled #steve is anything but chipper #steve is angry and in pain and distraught #but this is steve rogers #and he’s been a variation of the three of them for years #and he knows by know he’s got to fight #he’s used to it #resigned to it #and he’ll do it with a smile #until bucky#that’s what breaks him #that’s the one thing that can completely undo him #and he doesn’t know yet #oh god he doesn’t know #steve rogers #walking wounded steve rogers #this movie screwed me up #tws (X)
#these movies get the spirit of what makes cap interesting#and ultimately really damn depressing#because steve’s better than the world around him#and while that’s inspiring and empowering for the people who work with him#and important to the people who look up to him as an icon#and who look to captain america when things are most hopeless#it’s taking pieces out of steve#he signed up to just be one soldier#not a savior#and he keeps dying for his country#and they keep bringing him back to do it again tags via (linzeestyle)
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
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
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.—
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.
I’m really glad I read that.
Ooooh, I LOVE this question!
Lots of people keep journals with systematic diary entries, but I understand that it doesn’t work for everyone.
Here are some cool/interesting/fun/motivational/productive things you can do that don’t necessarily include keeping a diary:
- Turn a Moleskine (or other notebook) into a planner/organizer/PDA/productivity system
- 52 lists
- 30 Days of Lists
- Answer "50 Questions That Will Free Your Mind"
- Start a gratitude journal
- Create a "life handbook"
- Keep morning pages
- Start a scrapbook
- Use journal prompts to answer questions when you feel like it
- Participate in the 7-week Life Cleanse
- Keep these 9 lists updated — REALLY useful things to keep track of!
- Take notes as you learn something new
- Use a notebook to keep track of goal-setting and productivity: 60 Ways to Improve Your Life in 100 Days
- Keep a recipe book
- Keep a reading journal/movie journal/music journal/fashion journal
- Start a quote book
- Make a travel journal — use it to plan your trip/vacation, then glue in transportation ticket stubs, itineraries, maps, photographs, dinner receipts at fancy restaurants, and write about your adventures
- Doodle in it
- Write poetry
- Cut out and glue pretty pictures
- Create a bucket list journal and record each item as you complete it
Does that give you enough ideas to start with? :)
(Made rebloggable by request.)
i like having my own apartment bc it means when my family comes to visit i can just say “you’re under my roof” and they can’t protest shit
update my dad is grounded
Paolo Sebastian s/s 2015 couture
Sometimes I imagine little baby Slytherins being led down to their dorms on their first night at Hogwarts after the sorting ceremony. Eleven year olds clinging to each other as they traverse the damp, cold stone steps into the dungeons and their minds are racing with…