Packing is SO HARD.
“Brick” by Ben Folds.
Classic.
I have a long flight on Thursday & I’m in need of music/book recommendations!
I’m in need of new music! I typically listen to folky/rootsy/acoustic stuff but I’m open to anything really.
I want a book to read as well and need some ideas… I’m not picky - nonfiction, fiction, poetry, memoirs, essays etc etc
So what do you recommend?
The history of typography, in a stop-motion animation made of 291 cut-paper letters and 2,454 photographs. Pair with a peek inside the sketchbooks of the world’s best type designers and 10 essential books on typography.
"Dream jobs aren’t a gamble. Dream jobs are a hustle."
dearcoquette (via ohitsyou)
If it was anyone else I’d be like wow that’s really conceited but seriously if I was Darren Criss I’d talk about myself all the time.
Inhale. Exhale.
My Marathon Monday Experience
Note: The majority of this post is what I wrote in my journal on the night of April 15, 2013 after the Boston Marathon explosions. Some details were added and edited for clarity.
It’s 3:15 pm. I’m on the green line heading inbound to Boston to meet up with someone at a coffee shop off of Mass Ave. At the Longwood T stop we pass an outbound train heading in the opposite direction. I look at the people on the opposite train: Quite a few of them are talking on their cellphones. I find this to be strange since most people, like myself, are typically plugged in and tuned out on train rides. A lot of the faces look tired and uncomfortable. They must have run the marathon, I think.
Moments later I get a text from my friend Solange: “There were two bombs that went off at the finish.”
What? What’s going on? What do you mean? I know what it means, but how could it mean that? Is this serious? The concerned faces of the outbound T make sense now.
The train pulls up to a halt at the Fenway stop, and all the doors open. “Last stop!” says the MBTA official, “Everybody off.” It is serious. This is real.
I stumble off the T and aimlessly wander for a few minutes. I hear the roar of helicopters flying over me. “No inbound T service,” they keep saying. A few more minutes of confusion go by and the workers proclaim, “No inbound OR outbound T service. Walk to your destination.”
….
