(Source: michellewilliamss, via 100000cuckooclocks)

Yep.

Just what I needed to hear.

Truths:

Every time, the above song unfailingly leaves me with a tear-choked throat. Sometimes, a wet eye or two.

I’m trying hard to be easy on myself at the times when it’s easier to be hard on myself. 

Stories a plenty, I’ve got, but nothing to put on a page. Creative gridlocks and deadlines make a mean head-splitter of a cocktail.

Standing anything but still has burned my roots clean away. So many miles in so many days. Car wheels gliding over concrete, train steel screaming on tracks. I don’t say, my home. I ask, my home? Where, I’m not sure, but guidance, I trust, is best left to my gut. 

I love, and am loved, without obligation, without question, for the first time in my life. Serene doesn’t even begin to describe it. Scared doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

I’m clinging to faith tighter than a Catholic clutches a rosary come Sunday. Tighter than a soaked shirt seals to skin. I’m tossing my cards on the table and calling ‘I’m all in.’ 

Fuck, do I need a cup of tea and a good night’s sleep. 

A toast to Tuesdays. A toast to champagne and strawberries, split sides and sex talk, and daffodils propped jauntily in a vase. 

‘Doughnut Mitosis’ by Kevin Van Aelst

Gam-eats. Now this is some science I can get behind. 

(Source: forriademorest)

A sharp and sassy pair. 

Porchside with a song & dance old standard. I’d like to take up tap again. It’s been, what, 15 years?