How to Be a Romantic

Because romantics are far too rare.

from the heart of jonnytran and the soul of pneuma

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From Paradise Kiss

From Paradise Kiss

You are not a dress shirt that needs every wrinkle ruthlessly ironed out. You are a warm, snuggly sweater, loved not in spite of but because of your loose threads, your crumpled bits, your huggable qualities. Ali Hale from Aliventures
Love is about destruction. Destruction of our selves.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Hope there’s someone
Who’ll take care of me
When I die, will I go

Hope there’s someone
Who’ll set my heart free
Nice to hold when I’m tired

There’s a ghost on the horizon
When I go to bed
How can I fall asleep at night
How will I rest my head

Oh I’m scared of the middle place
Between light and nowhere
I don’t want to be the one
Left in there, left in there

There’s a man on the horizon
Wish that I’d go to bed
If I fall to his feet tonight
Will allow rest my head

So here’s hoping I will not drown
Or paralyze in light
And godsend I don’t want to go
To the seal’s watershed

Hope there’s someone
Who’ll take care of me
When I die, Will I go

Hope there’s someone
Who’ll set my heart free
Nice to hold when I’m tired

Well, you can break his heart.

There was once a person that was in love with me, or I’d like to believe rather, in love with the idea of me, for almost 15 years. About half a year ago, we realized that it would never, could never, work out (we had grown too far apart characteristically and this is in no way the story of childhood-best-friend-turned-love-of-your-life). Though the story was appealing, and in the sunny California air the Jersey protagonists optimistically attempted to make something tangible/real from the clouds of their thoughts and past, it was always the story that worked - not us.

And since then, he has vowed never to speak to me, ever again. Do unrequited love stories always end as such? Must they? Into some tragic end of sorts. It makes me think that he’s still more in love with the story (as if I were Estella and he, Pip), the extreme feelings, than actually caring about who I am, and where our potential lies in being valuable in each others’ lives as human beings, as kindred spirits. Vaya, qué pena.

“I took her hand in mine and we went out of the ruined place; and, as the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left the forge, so the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw the shadow of no parting from her.” (Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens).

itouchtouchthings:

And because my body is an anthology:
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyondany experience,your eyes have their silence:in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,or which i cannot touch because they are too nearyour slightest look easily will unclose methough i have closed myself as fingers,you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first roseor if your wish be to close me, i andmy life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,as when the heart of this flower imaginesthe snow carefully everywhere descending;nothing which we are to perceive in this world equalsthe power of your intense fragility:whose texturecompels me with the color of its countries,rendering death and forever with each breathing(i do not know what it is about you that closesand opens;only something in me understandsthe voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands— e.e. cummings

itouchtouchthings:

And because my body is an anthology:

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

e.e. cummings

How can I be awesome for you?

I’ve discovered a certain point when you empower someone or make them feel like they rock, and they immediately turn to you and say “You are awesome!”.

Joy St. & Division St.

I’m calling this the Point of Awesomeness — when you remove the barrier to joy in someone’s life. Sometimes it’s as small as a compliment. Other times, it’s bigger. But the feeling the person has is always the same.

This is a rare and special thing. Seeing what’s blocking you from joy is hard; it’s much easier from an outside perspective. But other people are busy pursuing their own passions.

As someone wanting to be awesome for the people I care about, it’s generally hard to figure out exactly how to do that. The times it has happened, what I did or said was unexpected, so there’s no way to ask someone how to be awesome for them. Because they literally don’t know.

What frustrates me the most, is when people are passionate about something and don’t talk about it. I can’t help you rock at what you love if you don’t tell me what you care about.

I get the impression, though, that most people aren’t passionate about what they do on a daily basis — something I just never understood. Is it because they never found what they’re passionate about? Is it because they are afraid of failing to get what they want, and so aren’t honest about it? Is it because they are unable to do what they’re passionate about, b/c of lack of money or connections? With the internet, knowledge is no longer the barrier it used to be. Time can be an issue for some, but for the most part, when you love something, you will make time for it.

Can anyone please shed some light on this for me, and help me be awesome for the people I care about? (I’m really not expecting anyone to actually do this, so if you do, you will be awesome!)

True Magic — When Work Isn't Work

One time, minimeals called me a hard-worker, and it just didn’t seem right. Now I realize why.

I never work hard. But I have always been good at being honest with myself and discovering what I love sooner than everyone else. So when it looks like I’m working hard, I’m actually pursuing what I love. When you’re doing that, work isn’t work; it’s play.

All things being equal, someone who enjoys something will always be better at it than someone who doesn’t enjoy it. All my life, I’ve played to win, whether it was miniature golf or grades in school, sometimes at the expense of enjoyment. But taking this strategy to its conclusion, I’ve derived the opposite strategy of playing to enjoy.

When your wish is dependent on something beyond your power, “all you’ve got” simply isn’t enough. The X-factor — the true magic born out of giving yourself to the thing you love — is your only chance.

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart. Steve Jobs (via timewillnotwaitforus)

Adaptation.

  • Charlie Kaufman: There was this time in high school. I was watching you out the library window. You were talking to Sarah Marsh.
  • Donald Kaufman: Oh, God. I was so in love with her.
  • Charlie Kaufman: I know. And you were flirting with her. And she was being really sweet to you.
  • Donald Kaufman: I remember that.
  • Charlie Kaufman: Then, when you walked away, she started making fun of you with Kim Canetti. And it was like they were laughing at *me*. You didn't know at all. You seemed so happy.
  • Donald Kaufman: I knew. I heard them.
  • Charlie Kaufman: How come you looked so happy?
  • Donald Kaufman: I loved Sarah, Charles. It was mine, that love. I owned it. Even Sarah didn't have the right to take it away. I can love whoever I want.
  • Charlie Kaufman: But she thought you were pathetic.
  • Donald Kaufman: That was her business, not mine. You are what you love, not what loves you. That's what I decided a long time ago.
  • (A scene from Adaptation)