Work in Progress

Just a writer trying to figure out life, armed with nothing but pen, paper, and tea.

I was the prince of Egypt, the son of the man who slaughtered their children!

(Source: wonderfulanimation)

Book giveaway for Marked by Light (Ambasadora Book 1) by Heidi Ruby Miller Apr 12-Jun 12, 2014(showing1-30of323) entriesAm

Check out the Goodreads giveaway for Heidi Ruby Miller’s Ambasadora.

Today, I set my text alert to a sound clip from The Lizzie Bennet Diaries where Caroline!Charlotte asks, “Are you fake texting?” and Darcy!Jane replies, “It’s super important,” and now I crack up every time I get a text.

darthdaenerys:

skywalker ladies using their chains to kill those that would harm them (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

(via clubjade)

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

—   

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

I’m really glad I read that.

(via selfesteampunk)

(via ohhtheunspeakablethings)

“The first duty of the novelist is to entertain. It is a moral duty. People who read your books are sick, sad, traveling, in the hospital waiting room while someone is dying. Books are written by the alone for the alone.”

—   Donna Tartt, author of The Secret History (via vintageanchorbooks)

(via libraryshelves)

wellerstein:

leading ladies→ because all good musicals have a showstopping ballad or number from the female star

01. fly fly away, catch me if you can // 02. anything goes, anything goes // 03.there’s a fine, fine line, avenue q // 04. all grown up, bare // 05. dyin’ ain’t so bad, bonnie & clyde // 06. sal tlay ka siti, the book of mormon // 07.how lovely to be a woman, bye bye birdie // 08. on my own, les miserables // 09. watch what happens, newsies // 10. everything else, next to normal // 11. whispering, spring awakening // 12.buenos aires, evita // 13. out tonight, rent // 14. roxie, chicago // 15. what i did for love, a chorus line // 16. my man, funny girl

listen

wellerstein:

leading ladiesbecause all good musicals have a showstopping ballad or number from the female star

01. fly fly away, catch me if you can // 02. anything goes, anything goes // 03.there’s a fine, fine line, avenue q // 04. all grown up, bare // 05. dyin’ ain’t so bad, bonnie & clyde // 06. sal tlay ka siti, the book of mormon // 07.how lovely to be a woman, bye bye birdie // 08. on my own, les miserables // 09. watch what happens, newsies // 10. everything else, next to normal // 11. whispering, spring awakening // 12.buenos aires, evita // 13. out tonight, rent // 14. roxie, chicago // 15. what i did for love, a chorus line // 16. my man, funny girl

listen

(via ohhtheunspeakablethings)

opposablethumbcrew:

Books have a way of making you homesick for a place you have never been.

(via ohhtheunspeakablethings)

everybodylies92:

You know nothing, Jon Snow.

(Source: gifthescreen)