thoughts from a restless mind.

Only broken one bone— I snapped my wrist snowboarding six years ago. Was a really dumb way for it to happen, too. As much of a speed demon as I am, and despite the tumblr tumble or two I had taken earlier that day on patches of ice, I didn’t break it in some awesome high speed wipeout. I broke my wrist sitting down -_____- Standing still, I fell back to sit and wait for a friend to catch up. Of course I caught myself a little too heavy on my wrist, so that hurt.

Regrets? Not really my perspective or approach to life. Have I made suboptimal solutions and mistakes: absolutely. Would I do things differently if I could again: maybe. If I came across a similar situation: likely. I’m trying to make my life more about exploring right now, maybe leaning more towards ε-greedy.

Something that broke my heart: (trigger warning for talk of suicide)

unlively:

I think the weirdest thing is that the person you’re going to marry and spend the rest of your life together with is currently walking the earth, living their own life, going to school or going to work or whatever, doing all these things and making all these memories that you’ll get to hear about from them years from now.

(via invaderxir)

rachelkimmm:

A plane flies overhead. It’s night. The road is empty, quiet. You hear the plane; you look around. Cookie-cut houses, some with their lights on, and others turned off for the night. You’re standing in the middle of the street. Nothing racing across your mind, no urgency, no thrill, no thoughts, and no emotion.

You are empty. 

So you look up to find some sort of meaning. You look to the stars. They’re faint this evening. You spot the Big Dipper, the North Star, Orion’s Belt. And you wait to get that feeling. That feeling of feeling ever so small, that feeling of mystery, awe, and overwhelming satisfaction. The strengthening of your faith, the restoration, your revival. There is feeling. You wait, and wait, and wait. But it never comes. Today, you tilt your head back down from a view you couldn’t get enough of before. To a high you craved when the little dots beamed at you.

They’re faint this evening. 

You grow older. Your knees get weaker. Memories come and go, and “six-years-ago-you” becomes a stranger. Your mind and body aren’t on the same page; the mind charts it’s own course. Because it isn’t attached, just stuck. Your mind wanders, it is not of the body, just stuck inside one. You look at your arms, your legs, your little finger with that silver ring and one day it all looks foreign. 

You are tired. A tired that sleep can’t cure. Your mind is depleted. Actually, it’s left. It’s gone for the season. So you stand in the middle of the street on a breezy, summer night with no thoughts to keep you company and no feelings to share. Just your blank stares at the lit and unlit windows, the quiet jets of the plane passing by, and nothing. 

You are empty. You are alone. And tonight, even the stars are faint. 

(via selenaaasays)

wongfuproductions:

Wong Fu Productions: To Those Nights

(Source: i-give-my-first-love-to-you)

Brings back memories of IBM’s Master the Mainframe competitions :D

mainframed767:

There’s something so ‘war games’, to me, about finding all these mainframes available on the internet. What follows is my gallery of the Logon screens I’ve collected. I’m not going to identify them (other than whats in the screenshot). Enjoy! (I’ll try to keep this updated as I add more to it)

If anyone reading this has some to share feel free to send them to me.

(via c1qfxugcgy0)

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qalbam:

it’s all fading. remember that book you read years ago? the one that made your heart ache, made tears stream down your face?  it felt so real, didn’t it? the characters pain was yours, the mistakes were yours, the regrets were yours too. you felt the ache days after you had finished reading what had been written about. but it plays on the back of your mind, certain things remind you of that book. sometimes you stand on your tip-toes and remove it from the highest shelf and read your favourite parts, the ones that made you feel all the feelings you weren’t capable of feeling before, or weren’t aware of. i feel that towards you.

(Source: nazgolak)

What with it being testing season and all, now seems a better time than most to throwback to grade eleven. IB physics exam in the morning (8-11:30), AP physics exam in the afternoon (12-3:30). Of course, that wouldn’t be nearly interesting enough by itself, though.

So we show up to the IB exam and we’re told to leave everything by the wall and find our assigned seat. Writing implements will be provided for us. Then they come around to check our ID cards. Big surprise, we all left them by the wall when you freaked out and told us to leave our pens there.

I happened to throw my stuff under a table to keep it out of people’s way. Except now I had to try and reach under this table to get it back. Of course, I manage to bash my face against the corner which also happens to be peeling and sharp.

My eye immediately starts swelling and my cheek is bleeding and the exam hasn’t even been passed out yet. I spend the next 7 hours doing physics with one hand and one eye, since the other hand is holding a bag of ice over the other eye.

Good times, y’know?

This was one of the puzzles I really enjoyed frm the 2012 Berkeley Mystery Hunt. No flavortext, just the title and puzzle. If anyone wants to try and solve it, there’s a hint (the type of puzzle and a word bank) below the break. Let me know if you want some more hints or have a (partial) solution!

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llaurasim:

Believe me, they weren’t necessarily sweeter, but isn’t there always an attached nostalgia for the gone but not quite forgotten? 

anaisnt:

Leave something for me when you go. A couple of words; a line from your favorite movie. Jumbled words that st-st-stutter out of your mouth; puzzle pieces that come together in a picture of your favorite coffee shop. I’ll keep them in my pocket. Pull them out when I feel lonely.

I don’t mind the leftovers. Half-forgotten stories and old songs you used to like. Crammed in the back your mind, like stale Chinese food in the back of the fridge. When you clear yourself out, you can leave it for me by the curb. The bits and pieces of the last few years fit nicely in the clutter of my mind.

You can leave me the things she can’t stand. Your favorite Death Cab shirt. The mixtape I made you a few birthdays ago. You’ll lie and say it doesn’t fit anymore; you never really liked the songs. But the cotton’s worn out and it smells like you just washed it. I hear you hum track 3 all the time.

Before she leaves you, you’ll tell me how you’re better. How you’re glad we can still be friends. You’ll smile and it’ll taste a lot like goodbye. I won’t say I’ll miss you; you won’t say it’ll be alright. We’ll finish the movie in silence, you’ll fidget the whole time. When you drive away, I won’t even cry.

I’ll keep the things you give to me until they weigh me down. I’ll reach inside and leave them behind. I’ll run into you again. I’ll still be a little broken. You’ll still be beautiful. We’ll both be alone. And we will both walk by, not even sparing a second glance.

givemeajobplease:

You ever have one of those nights where you decide to check in on someone you dated a long time ago and you see they posted a link to their girlfriend’s etsy shop and you check it out and you notice that she is selling a one-of-a-kind bag you used to own, but gave to Good Will four or five years ago and you realize that she must have found it there and now she’s selling it for $15 and she describes a small tear in the listing and you know it is from a night you were out with her now boyfriend and you both got drunk and were rushing home to have sex and when you tried to dig your keys out they got snagged on the lining and ripped it open and it didn’t matter at all because you were headed up to an apartment you loved with a boy you loved and you remember that the world is basically tiny, random, sprawling pieces and you just want her to have the fifteen dollars and him to be happy always and you to remember that sometimes the random pieces come together and love eventually feels good again after it ends?

I’m not so proud of how I was at 8 years old >.>

(via selenaaasays)

(Source: cowgirl1012, via asidrive)

For example, there should be a word, maybe borrowed from German, a language so good at expressing complicated mental states in a single lengthy word with many chewy consonants, for when you miss someone so incredibly, achingly much, when that person pervades every thought, every interaction, every waking moment, but you also loathe them. Because they treated you badly, or because they were too weak to be honest with you. Because you were betrayed. And because you loathe them, you hate yourself for missing that person so intensely. For missing the laughter they inspired; for wishing for the easy intimacy that you built. You hate yourself for knowing that they aren’t worth so much sadness, that such an outlay of mental energy is entirely wasted and useless. But you feel it anyway, and you cry in the shower or into your pillow or anytime something reminds you of that person. Which is all the time. There should definitely be a word for that.

(Source: larmoyante, via petrichour)