Dandy Lion Chicago

heirofslytherin:

Guess who goes back to school tomorrow?

Not me.

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(Source: anselelgortsbf, via pigeonletters)

Damnit I just want my own place already.

Damnit I just want my own place already.

(Source: designsponge.com, via teachingliteracy)

(via binette)

This is why I went forever without writing. Because its like opening a dam of emotions and I have to dig into the bad things that have happened to me. I need to be in a certain state of mind, almost sadness, to be able to write well. And I was avoiding this feeling, because sometimes when the writing is done its hard to close the door again.

// I broke a dish while I was washing the dishes and these thoughts came about//

What makes a person bad?

Is it their action? Intention? Emotion that comes about from said action?

I broke a dish. 

I said something hurtful.

I killed someone.

These are bad actions. These are things you should not do. But there are good people that have done these actions and there are bad people that have done these actions. What separates them?

It slipped from my fingers./I wanted to destroy it.

I was emotional and did not mean it./I wanted to cause pain.

It was in self defense./They deserved it.

Have you ever done something with an intention, and then after completed the act realized it did not have the emotional outcome you were hoping for? Are you a good person if you do something for a bad reason only to receive no satisfaction from it? Are you a bad person if you do something bad unintentionally only to realize you fundamentally enjoyed it?

I broke a dish when it slipped through my fingers. The thunder of broken glass calmed me.

I said something hurtful to cause pain, but the shattering of the light in her eyes made me regret it and only made me feel worse.

I killed someone in self defense. He had me up against the wall. His grip on the knife loosened when he grabbed my hair and i took it and thrust it into his stomach. I felt his skin part for it. Felt the blood warm my hand. He fell. His eyes grew and then faded. I stood over him, panting, the wet knife slippery in my grip. I smirked, adrenaline streaming through my veins. I felt alive and in control.

What makes a villain? What makes a hero? What makes us want to slap black and white ideas on a gray concept?

I saw this movie yesterday called Suspense of Disbelief. It was pretty good but there was one scene that made me fall in love. The main character is a screen writing professor and he says to his class: Character is plot. Now I know screenwriting and short story writing is different but I had a professor in college that would not agree. She told us that something needs to happen, otherwise its a character study and a character study is not a story. I wanted to call bullshit on her so many times. Most of my stories are character driven. I have a central character and attempt to put their mind on the paper. There is action and things happen but it usually covers a very small span of time. My focus is the character. I want you to know this character so that their reaction in this small situation make sense and from what you learn about the character you can infer what will occur in the long run. Character can be plot. Obviously, in a novel you need grand action to drive the reader somewhere. No one wants to hear about how the rain makes Susie sad because it was raining when her mother died for 200 pages. But in a small scale, I don’t see anything wrong with the story being character driven. In fact, I prefer it. 

(via binette)

Nobody will protect you from your suffering. You can’t cry it away or eat it away or starve it away or walk it away or punch it away or even therapy it away. It’s just there, and you have to survive it. You have to endure it. You have to live through it and love it and move on and be better for it and run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal.
Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things (via creatingaquietmind)

(Source: quotethat, via teachingliteracy)

Do they sense it, these dead writers, when their books are read? Does a pinprick of light appear in their darkness? Is their soul stirred by the feather touch of another mind reading theirs? I do hope so.
Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale (via bibliophilebunny)

(via teachingliteracy)

nachovision:

Getting ready for #Lollapalooza

Oh god oh god oh god tonight oh god I’m gonna cry if can tell

(via fuckyeahkol)

#eminem #lolla #lollapalooza2014

Fave song #BrokenBells #lolla #lollapalooza2014

Day 1 was a success. Let’s do this Day 2. #bestcityintheworld #chicago #lolla #lollapalooza2014

Day 1 was a success. Let’s do this Day 2. #bestcityintheworld #chicago #lolla #lollapalooza2014

Fave song #BombayBicycleClub #lolla #lollpalooza2014