fragments of feeling, learning, loving, expressing, sharing, changing, growing, questioning and ...living.

 

sorry so sudden

I need to put tumblr aside. It seems silly to only reblog what other people have posted and I don’t really have a talent or special knowledge to contribute. I don’t plan on deleting this blog but I don’t think I’ll be adding more, unless something changes.

One of those moments when the very feeling that has been haunting me all day has been so perfectly expressed in an animated gif set on my dashboard.

(Source: elledrivers)

pursuingchastity:

A real letter from a young mother to her aborted baby. What planned parenthood will never share! So powerful!

If a woman marries a man, she’s trusting him with the rest of her life that he won’t hit her, cheat on her, that he’ll work hard, that he’ll pay the bills, that he’ll love their children, that he’ll finish the race well, that he’ll walk with Jesus ‘til the end, that if she gets sick, he’ll look after her, that if she is dying, he will be faithful to her. Gentlemen, it is a terrifying thing for a woman to trust a sinful man.

It’s a Mark Driscoll kind of night. (via modestlygorgeous)

(Source: marshill.com)

I have been using Rockbox on my Sansa Fuze for ages and seriously love it. I will never again buy an mp3 player that I can’t equip with Rockbox.

I even converted my mom and brother to put it on their players and it has solved a multitude of problems they were having with default firmware, as well as giving them dozens of new features.

She waited for the train to pass. Then she said, “I sometimes think that people’s hearts are like deep wells. Nobody knows what’s at the bottom. All you can do is imagine by what comes floating to the surface every once in a while.

Haruki Murakami (Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman: 24 Stories)

We don’t live alone. We are members of one body. We are responsible for each other. And I tell you that the time will soon come when if men will not learn that lesson, then they will be taught it in fire and blood and anguish. Good night.

― J.B. Priestley, An Inspector Calls