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writeoneleaf:

Fisherman with his son in Naples, Florida by State Library and Archives of Florida on Flickr.

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Look at the photo. What has just happened here? What is about to happen? Who has been in this place? Who will come here and and what will they do? What kinds of interactions can you imagine? Write one leaf beginning with what occurs to you upon looking, but do not allow yourself to be limited by what you see.

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it was an imperfect year swaddled in the straight childhood lines of innocence.  incapable of worry or reality in the way the large humans classify reality.  gravity was mocked. seriousness abounded around the small things of the world.   perhaps because we were more familiar with the ground, we were unable to take in the larger things and, instead, gazed upon the tiny details. after all, they didn’t look so tiny compared to our tiny hands and tiny dreams that floated so large into the sky next to baloons looped around our tiny wrists. 

A P.A. From Our Beloved Child Superheroes

We
are
the Hope of the world.

We save
kitttens.

We fly.
Because we
can fly.

Under our protection,
there will never be
cookie shortages
again.
(We promise.)

While we don’t
understand the words
“first degree”
“caloric intake”
“fixed index anuity”

we protect the
sacred things:

Chocolate milk
(Or strawberry. You have
the right to choose!)

Cardboard box time machines.

Blatant,
unflappable honesty.

Nap time.

"All worthy work is open to interpretations the author did not intend. Art isn’t your pet — it’s your kid. It grows up and talks back to you."

Joss Whedon (via i-m-an-angel-you-ass)

(Source: thefbismostunwanted, via yeahwriters)

Whew

Ever have those moments when you remember something embarassing/painful/difficult from your past, and all you can think is “oh thank goodness I am NOT there anymore”?

Check. Check and check.

So thankful for the last few years of growth. And that I live in Denver now. Thank goodness for Denver.

"As imperfect minds with imperfect knowledge, we all have “wrong” and “erroneous” beliefs from time to time. But intelligence isn’t about never being wrong, it’s about admitting your ignorance and being willing to change those beliefs when you are confronted with new information."

http://www.theemotionmachine.com/the-healthy-challenge-of-explaining-your-own-beliefs 

Having It All Together

Stumbling across this was helpful + relevant, considering the perfectionist I turn into occasionally. Especially since my 24th birtday is in less than a week and my original life-plan included me having two kids and a house by now. 

Turns out eighteen-year-old me was a little too ambitious and didn’t leave much room for, oh, reality.

By the way…what does it MEAN to “have all your shit together”? Really…what does that mean? Being in great shape? Having a ton of money saved? Having tons of friends? Being a mom/dad? Living in the country of your dreams? Having a great job?

The possibilities are endless for what the exact definition is, really. And going down the special snowflake way of thinking, we could say everyone has their own definition. (Awwe.)

So I guess once I turn 24, I’ll just be…exactly where I’m at.  Stronger, healthier, and a little more organized than I was last year.  A little better. A little closer to the best form of ME I can become. 

Cheers.

(Source: theberry.com)

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Guh. Hard work. Motivation should come in pill-form.

(Source: chokesngags, via mrwizard979)

Basic Springs/Summer Wardrobe Needs

• solid color tank tops and t-shirts (especially white)
• new camisoles that aren’t falling apart
• lacy tank tops/tshirts to wear over solid tanks
• shorts that actually fit
• patterned nylons (more! MORE!)
• small bag with loooong strap, like this
• pretty sandles
• maxi dress
• new cardigans
• pretty much anything on my style pinterest board

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“Just the washing machine”.  How many nights have I worried someone is there, in a place like this, with just the washing machine?

Always give it one more try. ALWAYS give it just one more try.

(Source: typewriterblues)

Dear Snowy Days,

You remind me of the past every time you visit.  My entire life has taken root on these Colorado rocks, and this state likes to frost over occasionally, leaving so many of my memories buried in snow.  You are like the smell of sesame body oil that blossoms into my mother’s face and  hands. You’re like the notably cheap taste of off-brand macaroni and cheese that brings back the summer of 2011 with those beautiful girls in that perfect house.  You are woven into these specific memories so closely that I expect with every snowfall to return there, to those places in my past.

There’s the time we had a snowball fight at my old elementary school in 2005 or so.  One person stands out among the rest, someone who would come to be such a pivotal point in my life years later. The flurry of innocence surrounding that moment is always so strikingly different from what would come.

Or the time I talked those three girls into wandering around campus the winter of 2009.  I had barely met two of them, but I now count them as my closest friends, and don’t know how my world would work without them.

We can’t forget the time I crashed my car into the median that snowstorm in 2010.  The moment the man sitting in the passenger seat shouted my name and the drive shaft cracked in half still flashes across my windshield whenever my tires slip.  Who knew I would still be driving that car? Who knew that we wouldn’t make it as a couple? Or how glad I’d be that we didn’t make it?

I’ll add this morning’s thirty minute trek to work to this icy box in my mind.  I’ll remember the skyscrapers rising out of the clouds, the acceptance that I was really in this city, really living here and growing here despite my fears of it.  The lonely, silent air that made the flakes stick to my eyebrows and cheeks was the only witness to the creation of that moment.  It was just you and me, forming another hour of my life that might mean so much in five years.   

I don’t think I’ll ever move away from you. 

With fond recollection,

Allison