pantography:

gloomist:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

this is truly sensational

Favourite post

(via castnoanchors)

#fuck  
  10/22/14 at 01:13am

(via heck-yeah-hoechlin)

#OK  
  10/21/14 at 10:28pm

(via venusofmoon)

  10/21/14 at 10:24pm

(via graspmyreality)

  10/20/14 at 05:25pm

(via prettylittlesluttykitty)

pospiscal:

*cracks my knuckles* time to complain

(via heythere-thisisme)

#about me  
  10/20/14 at 01:10pm

(via gagaweeen)

#AMAZING  

I asked my ex, now good friend, if she would ever have an open relationship and she said, “No, I don’t think I could do that” then after a pause and a smile, “but what about love affair friendships?” She went on to describe an impenetrable fortress of female friendship, her own group of best mates who’d known each other since school and had supported and loved each other through almost all of their lifetimes. They sounded far more bonded to, and in love with one another, than their respective husbands. It struck me that we don’t have the language to reflect the diversity and breadth of connections we experience. Why is sex the thing we tend to define a relationship by, when in fact it can be simple casual fun without a deep emotional transaction? Why do we say “just friends” when, for some of us, a friendship goes deeper? Can we define a new currency of commitment that celebrates and values this? Instead of having multiple confusing interpretations of the same word, could we have different words? What if we viewed our relationships as a pyramid structure with our primary partner at the top and a host of lovers, friends, spiritual soul mates, colleagues, and acquaintances beneath that?

"[People Magazine] asked people to recreate scenes from famous movies in a photo. They asked Andy Samberg and I if we wanted to recreate a scene from a movie like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and we said that sounds great, but we’d rather do a scene from E.T. You might be like, “How could you and Andy do that; one of those is a child and one of those is an alien! Well, I feel like we nailed it.” - Seth Meyers

(via wutevr-4-evr)

  10/19/14 at 06:58pm

engage-with-zorp:

the-rainbowsaurus:

jethrocane:

walrus-in-the-tardis:

youcantbreakthatwhichisntyours:

ambiguous-ash:

merrymishas:

engage-with-zorp:

I majored in gif making.

More like majored in becoming a hot piece of ass

But you lost all your friends

and your eyesight 

not to mention your sweet bunkbed man what happened

I’m most concerned that you lost your Led Zeppelin shirt. What happened?

image blast from the past

(via teenytigress)

atraversso:

My Paradise by Elizabeth Gadd

(via losing-every-extra-pound)

#i just  
  10/18/14 at 04:14pm
Title: Boy Artist: Little Mix 5,895 plays

"forget that boy, forget that boy, i know a bad boy ain’t good enough for you.
you’re holding back tears in your eyes; bad boy wanna fight,
but i never see him fighting for you,
he’ll never realize what he’s got until it’s gone, and he’ll lose you forever.”

(via louehhhtomlinson)

  10/18/14 at 04:05pm