Sometimes I wish I could capture every single beautiful, sad, meaningful, painful, extraordinary, magical moment in photos.
If I had to choose between the two, I would rather be a Mythbuster than America's Next Top Model.
I find an insane pleasure in cooking that I would find a million excuses and invent a million reasons to cook.
Even as a little girl, I have always loved reading. I am fascinated how the author string together words and how, by putting these words together, they give people the key into understanding them better or paint the perfect picture while they tell them a story.
I wanted to be a fashion designer but ended up studying architecture. My mother didn't approve of my first choice but my creative streak could never be stifled. Refocused, but not stifled.
I am ashamed to admit that I am fluent in sarcasm.
I am a fan of new technology and gadgets but even with everything being compact, convenient and portable, there is still something about the smell of a book, the
texture of its pages and the weight of it in my hands that alter and add to the whole experience and pleasure of reading, no gadget could top that.
I love the beach. And surprises.
I have this weird yet unconscious habit of memorizing lines from the movies.
I always believed that inquisitiveness is a good thing. But more important than just asking questions, is asking the right ones.
I love teaching almost as much as I love learning.
I get such child-like delight in being inside a moving vehicle while an aircraft flies overhead.
I am an old soul. I love old customs, old trees, old civilizations, old houses, old movies, old songs, old books, old friends.
I believe that man’s greatest achievement is the written word.
I have a mental file of useless nerdy information.
I take my relationships seriously. I refuse to waste my time playing games.
I am grateful that God doesn’t give me everything I ask for.
I am drawn to people with a twisted sense of humor. They seem to me like people the world never truly understand or appreciate. But I gravitate towards them because they are the ones who make the most sense to me.
I find confidence in a man, crazy-sexy.
I cannot stand people devoid of any sense or any humor.
I am never too proud to give someone a compliment or say I am sorry.
Some of my friends are surprised that I remember something about them that they only mentioned in passing. But one of my best--and worst--traits is paying close attention. People genuinely intrigue me. I listen because I want to understand.
Whether or not he's busy. Whether or not he's changed his SIM & lost your phone number. Whether or not blah blah blah (insert whatever excuse you've made up for him here).
He's a man. And men are designed to go after what they *know* they want.
Just observe them.
When they want that promotion, they learn & do what needs to be done. When they're into a tv series, they'll find out how to download it and store it in a safe, acid-free place (next to the action figure still in mint condition inside the box). When they need to get to a tv set at a certain time to watch that epic boxing match, they find a way to make it happen.
So if he doesn't get in touch with you, he's not thinking about you.
Accept that, and move on with your life based on that.
If he's thinking about you but hasn't gotten in touch with you because he has intimacy issues / rejection issues / (insert other excuses you've made up for him here), then just be glad you're not his therapist or his mother (because you're not).
Move on, find a Man (not a therapy patient, or a little boy), and free yourself from this waiting.
Life is out there. And so is Love. :-) Be available to it this year!
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an eight-year-old again.
I want to go to McDonald’s and think that it’s a four-star restaurant.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks.
I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.
I want to run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer’s day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple, when all you knew were colors, multiplication tables and nursery rhymes, but that didn’t bother you because you didn’t know what you didn’t know and you didn’t care.
All you knew was to be happy, because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.
I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.
I want to live simply again. I don’t want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive when there are more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness and loss of loved ones.
I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, mankind and making angels in the snow.
I want to play with my pets and my days of imagination to last forever.
So here are my checkbook and my car keys, my credit card bills and my 401(k) statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood.
And if you want to discuss this further, you’ll have to catch me first because, “Tag! You’re it!”
A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that 1,100 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.
Three minutes went by, and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace, and stopped for a few seconds, and then hurried up to meet his schedule.
A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping, and continued to walk.
A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.
The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried, but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally, the mother pushed hard, and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.
In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money, but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the most talented musicians in the world. He had just played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, on a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.
Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.
This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste, and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?
One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?