Listen. Listen To Me.

I think this is a tragedy? Sober in its irony My poor frightened phone with its ever-beating heart and failed and failing touchscreen

still gives me notifications and as I work here on my computer my terminally ill phone pings

A message telling me

my new phone has arrived and is in the mailroom

doing something I hate (making rice) so I can do something I love (delaying my inevitable demise)

What if the people who love you, love you the way you love them? What if they remember you in a soft haze of happiness? What if they hold you in a warm wrapping of affection in their hearts? What if they forget the awkward phrasings, what if they remember the times you sat with them when they were sad? What if they think of the best of you? What if you sank into the possibilities and let them love you back?

Belegarth

ok well it has been real but i am going to kill you with a hammer now

jeet

how do you say "I'm gonna die thank you so much" but in a way that makes sense to a person possibly less familiar with "I'm gonna die thank you so much"

You’re allowed to be excited about the little things. You’re allowed to be goofy. You’re allowed to be dorky about your favorite tv show, to make blanket forts, to enjoy cheesy movies, even just to sleep with stuffed animals. You’re allowed to do any of the things that make life a little more bearable. It’s fine, ok?

never once in my life met prev. so what. prev got me doing a reblog game and that's a positive influence in my life HAPPY NEW YEAR

i hope im a positive influence on somebody’s life

adorable dad thing today: watching the man cook

for context, when he was a young college student he worked at a fancy restaurant in the middle of nowhere. From time to time he pulls out his skills from that restaurant whether it's cooking or random waiter things or whatnot. He absolutely loves cooking. He's so good at it too.

And, I don't know, there's just something about it. Him opening the oven to pull out three pans of golden beautiful enchiladas made with such specificity and love. Enough to feed his family for two days and also a couple of young adults who were stopping by for food. The love. Small batch huge heart. So much care.

He used to hate complex foods. He used to be a horrible picky eater who didn't like tomatoes or mushrooms or anything red or anything grown up. (This was before I knew him, but I know stories.) He used to hate cooking. And then, to be a dad, he learned. He learned for work to support his family and then he learned for love to feed his family. And decades later he's still at it. And it's incredible. I cannot fathom food as good as my dad's.

Forget adorable. My dad is precious.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa