i want a word for the almost-home.

that point where the highway’s monotony becomes familiar
that subway stop whose name will always wake you from day’s-end dozing
that first glimpse of the skyline
that you never loved until you left it behind.

what do you call the exit sign you see even in your dreams?
is there a name for the airport terminal you come back to,
comfortably exhausted?

i need a word for rounding your corner onto your street,
for seeing your city on the horizon,
for flying homewards down your highway.

give me a word for the boundary
between the world you went to see
and the small one you call your own.

i want a word for the moment you know
you’re almost home.

there and back again, n.m.h.  (via running-from-infinity)

(via rainbowrowell)

Last year, when One Direction released “One Way or Another (Teenage Kicks),” a combination Blondie/Undertones cover they recorded for charity, the Guardian’s Adam Boult was prompted to start a list of songs that “must never be covered.” Never mind that 1D’s medley got a seal of approval from Blondie’s Debbie Harry herself; Mr. Boult said it was an “abomination” that somehow “tarnished” the original versions. So it’s not about the gender of the artist doing the cover—it’s about the gender (and age) of their fans. Think about it: Young, poppy acts, have largely young, female fan bases. I believe the reason rockist dudes feel so dang uncomfortable watching these artists cover songs by bands they love is that it points out that they might have something in common with fans of Miley, Lorde, 1D, etc. They might actually have something in common with teenage girls. And what could be worse than that?


Here’s what I want to tell these people: You could do a lot worse than sharing a teenage girl’s taste in music. The pantheon of acts who couldn’t have gotten famous without the support of teenage girls includes a lot of people and bands you probably respect a lot: Michael Jackson. Elvis Presley. The fricking BEATLES. When Nirvana were around, most of their fans weren’t 50-year-old rock critics; they were kids.

tamorapierce:

nationalballet:

Stephanie Hutchison was born in Kitchener, Ontario and trained at Canada’s National Ballet School. She danced with Ottawa Ballet and Ballet BC before joining The National Ballet of Canada in 1997. Ms. Hutchison was promoted to First Soloist in 2003.

Here is strength.  Look at her arms and legs.  She has to dance some parts where she must appear thistle-light, yet she is all muscle, like Misty Copeland at American Ballet Theatre.  These women work damned hard to get to where they are!

tamorapierce:

nationalballet:

Stephanie Hutchison was born in Kitchener, Ontario and trained at Canada’s National Ballet School. She danced with Ottawa Ballet and Ballet BC before joining The National Ballet of Canada in 1997. Ms. Hutchison was promoted to First Soloist in 2003.

Here is strength.  Look at her arms and legs.  She has to dance some parts where she must appear thistle-light, yet she is all muscle, like Misty Copeland at American Ballet Theatre.  These women work damned hard to get to where they are!

(via sjmaas)

newleafliterary:

In case you’re having a rough day. Or a good day. This kid is the greatest thing on two legs.

(via marcykate)