Knitting Wishbones.

to the good life ! whatever and where ever that happens to be ! not all of the images i post here are mine, if i can give credit i will but sometimes images just float amidst the internet. if your image does turn up here and you'd like credit attached let me know and ill gladly add it.

"When my husband died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me — it still sometimes happens — and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again. Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous — not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… That pure chance could be so generous and so kind… That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time… That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful… The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful."

fuckyeahtattoos:

I’m an artist and crafter - and I’m ALWAYS looking for a ruler.  This tattoo idea has been on my mind for a long, long time and I finally got it! 

fuckyeahtattoos:

I’m an artist and crafter - and I’m ALWAYS looking for a ruler.  This tattoo idea has been on my mind for a long, long time and I finally got it! 

One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.

—(via b00bs)

(Source: voguelovesme, via owls-love-tea)

When people talk about cancer, they talk about winning.  They talk about beating it.  I imagine myself in a runners lunge, at the starting line with my left foot pressed hard against the block and my fingertips in red dirt.  I imagine my heart racing as I glance to my right to size up my opponent, and gulping as I wait for the doctor to pull the trigger on the pistol to begin the race against time.  The problem is, I can’t see my opponent.  I can’t size up what I am against, or train or practice for better odds.  I don’t know if this is a win or lose situation.

I turn to medicine.  I turn to doctors who I trustingly allow to poison me in order to make me well again.  I check my hair, my eyelashes, my fingernails.  Every day.  I feel my organs inside of me wishing they could jump ship.  I felt better before I knew I had cancer, when my body was riddled with it.  And now I’m trading problem for problem, spade for spade.
I try to live my life to the fullest, even before cancer (I have people who will vouch for this).  I’ve been called an inspiration.  I’ve been called irresponsible.  Sometimes my fullest is too full for other who feel I’m reckless with my health.  The judgment of those who feel I should be more respectful of the disease that could be killing me slowly.  I have no respect for my cancer, and I refuse to.
These medications have made me lose my mind.  I try to view my memory loss as endearing, although I know it becomes irritating.  I get frustrated with myself on a minute by minute basis, wondering if I’m even the same person anymore.  But I can’t remember.
I will not be humbled by this experience, I do not feel small.  I feel huge and loud and lucky to have the life I’ve had.  And you, the people in it.  In my quiet moments I silently ask questions to no one in particular, and know there are no answers.
I will go to my grave as if I were stepping on a soapbox.  It will not be a loss, because there was never any winning.  In life it’s only a “thanks for playing.”

i miss you 182 days