The Dowager Countess Violet Crawley Is Everything I Aspire To Be

I just finished reading The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams, and

OH.

My.

GOD.

It was literally the most amazing book!! And possibly my new favorite?? It combined some of my favorite things, like words, language, feminism, historical fiction, and a beautiful story. The writing was different from a lot of what I've typically read before, and it almost felt like a classic book. It was about the life of a girl named Esme who grew up observing and then helping the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary. She starts collecting 'lost' words that aren't included, and that are typically used by and about women. It is kind of depressing at times, but I love it all the same. If you like words, historical fiction, and feminism, I highly recommend this book. Like, go read it right now. I love it so much!!

You must realize there are consequences for your attractions

my best friend: *exists*

me: *yelling like she's hard of hearing and shaking her by the shoulders to get my point across* I LOOOOOVVVEEE YOOOOOUUUU!!!!!!!

there's something very lovely about doing homework in bed in the late afternoon on a sunday while listening to beatles records and having a pumpkin spice candle lit and the sunlight slanting golden in through the window and the wind blowing and the bright red leaves on the trees and feeling very productive and peaceful and happy

Failure is not an option desktop wallpaper

Images taken from Visions of the Future

I like cloudy rainy days because it doesn't feel like the world is trying to force me to be cheerful. I can be happy in peace.

One time in 1st grade I forgot that 3-2=1, and after I turned it in with the wrong answer I realized what it was, and my teacher wouldn't let me go back and change it and I cried. That was literally the only time I ever cried about math, but I guess it counts

ok wait, reblog if you’ve cried at least once because of math, doesn’t matter which grade i’m trying to prove something 

If you were coming in the fall

-- Emily Dickinson

I was thinking about how poetry is all about the human experience, and that led to wondering about experiences that most people don't get to have. This all led me to wondering whether there were any poems written by astronauts, and I found this one, which I thought I'd share.

Last Day in Space

Tomorrow we light our rocket,           we burn our engines and likewise,                    burn a hole in the sky,                              And thus fall to Earth. How does one spend your last day in space?           Looking at Earth,                    a blue jewel surrounded by inky blackness,                              Pure Occipital Ecstasy. Unconstrained by your girth,           you fly with vestigial wings. The atmosphere on edge,           iridescent blue with no earthly parallel,                    Electrifying Diaphanous Beauty. Guarded by Sirens of Space,           singing saccharine songs,                    beckoning you to crash on the atmos-reef which tears you limb from limb                    and scorching what remains                             into cosmic croutons that sprinkle onto                                        the garden salad of Earth. One last feast out the window,           A looking glass of Wonderland. Offering both a portal to see your world,                    and a translucent reflection to see yourself. Contemplation;           what is your place in this world below,                    how do you change it,                              how does it change you. We are wedded to this planet,           until mass extinction we do part.                    Perhaps one planet is not enough. You study your charts,           we prepare our spaceship,                    and our minds. We make ready our descent,           into these seemingly gentle arms. The eager anticipation of hugging your wife,           your boys with grins followed by pouting faces,                    both excited to see you but not understanding why you left. Oh how does one spend your last day in Space.           What would you do?

-- Donald R. Pettit

(A NASA astronaut who has been on three space flights, with 370 days in space. I found this poem on the NASA website.)

“she lives the poetry she cannot write.”

oscar wilde