Dawn of my Peregrination

Sometimes I just wanna wrap everyone in a hug and cheer them up but then I realize people are disgusting and not everyone should be hugged and germs are everywhere and I remember sadness can’t just be hugged away but I could help.

The Cast of The Grand Budapest Hotel- Dir. Wes Anderson

I feel so fulfilled and loved right now. Happy in the simplest terms. And I leave for NYC in 4 days. And then I’ll start my first job when I get back, and kick off my career.
I’m finally surrounded by positivity and positive, fulfilling, appreciative people that I am so thankful for.
I’ve been working towards this for the past year, for this feeling. All I can do is make it better and improve myself from here.
I absolutely love this.
And I do believe this can last. And I will make it last.

Vertigo (1958) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

جان‎/jan/jān/jaan [jaan]
(noun) Jan/jaan is one of those specials words which lends itself across cultures and languages as a term of endearment and affection meaning, love, dear, heart, and life in East Asia. Arab/Persian: In Arabic, jan represents beloved one or dear. The Persian origins of this word mean life, equivalent to the Punjabi and Hindi definition. Calling a person your jaan, in comparison to the Arab and Persian culture, in South East Asian countries is an act of true love and intimiacy, and not used as liberally as the Persian connotation. Its true origins stem from Sanskrit. In Urdu you often refer to your lover and those your are close to as “meri jaan [meh-ree jaan],” also meaning my life, and my dear. It has a deeper emotional meaning than merely calling someone your love, or sweetheart; it is used in the essence of true love. (via wordsnquotes)
losed:


Ian Teh
The destroyed old city Wanzhou, China

losed:

Ian Teh

The destroyed old city Wanzhou, China


But just as he did in Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, Jonze uses the gimmick to unlock a door to unsmirky human feeling. The result is not just a cautionary meditation on romance and technology but a subtle exploration of the weirdness, delusiveness, and one-­sidedness of love. For all his imaginative conceits, Jonze is, in his way, a realist; he’s less interested in playing with the technologically extraordinary than he is in demonstrating the ways in which it can burrow into our most private selves. [x]

But just as he did in Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, Jonze uses the gimmick to unlock a door to unsmirky human feeling. The result is not just a cautionary meditation on romance and technology but a subtle exploration of the weirdness, delusiveness, and one-­sidedness of love. For all his imaginative conceits, Jonze is, in his way, a realist; he’s less interested in playing with the technologically extraordinary than he is in demonstrating the ways in which it can burrow into our most private selves. [x]

Look at you agreeing with my taste in music hahahaha

Haha I’ve liked Lana for a long long time dummy. I’m going to see her perform in September. :)

sikhestpunjabi:

"As your boyfriend, I take the civil responsibility of smacking your bum in public but also turning you on at the most inappropriate times"


“I think the most amazing fact I learned was that they have a part of the brain that we don’t have—a part that we can’t even identify. This suggests that they sense, understand, and even feel more than we do. It still blows me away to think about it.”—Gabriela Cowperthwaite, Director of Blackfish

“I think the most amazing fact I learned was that they have a part of the brain that we don’t have—a part that we can’t even identify. This suggests that they sense, understand, and even feel more than we do. It still blows me away to think about it.”—Gabriela Cowperthwaite, Director of Blackfish

Fuck You Poem #45

Fuck you in slang and conventional English.
Fuck you in lost and neglected lingoes.
Fuck you hungry and sated; faded, pock marked, and defaced.
Fuck you with orange rind, fennel and anchovy paste.
Fuck you with rosemary and thyme, and fried green olives on the side.
Fuck you humidly and icily.
Fuck you farsightedly and blindly.
Fuck you nude and draped in stolen finery.

Fuck you while cells divide wildly and birds trill.
Thank you for barring me from his bedside while he was ill.
Fuck you puce and chartreuse.
Fuck you postmodern and prehistoric.
Fuck you under the influence of opiun, codeine, laudanum, and paregoric.
Fuck every real and imagined country you fancied yourself princess of.
Fuck you on feast days and fast days, below and above.
Fuck you sleepless and shaking for nineteen nights running.
Fuck you ugly and fuck you stunning.

Fuck you shipwrecked on the barren island of your bed.
Fuck you marching in lockstep in the ranks of the dead.
Fuck you at low and high tide.
And fuck you astride
anyone who has the bad luck to fuck you, in dank hallways,
bathrooms, or kitchens.
Fuck you in gasps and whispered benedictions.

And fuck these curses, however heartfelt and true,
that bind me, till I forgive you, to you.

Amy Gerstler (via observando)