Monday, March 31, 2014

{Quote of the Week.}

"I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologise because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to leave myself as open as a church door. And I’m going to wake you up before the crack of dawn to tell you that I’m f****** joyful, no pretending, not from me, not ever. Would you like some coffee, would you please kiss me? Here, these are my hands, this is my mouth, it is all yours.” 
— Azra.T “Don’t Wait Three Days to Text First.”  
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Tuesday, March 25, 2014

'You Are Enough'

You are enough.
Paint it on your mirrors,
on the back of your eyelids,
drown it in your stomach,
sing it in every word you say.
You are never too much.
Eat your food,
sleep eight hours,
walk like you love yourself.
You are enough.
Say it in your sleep,
mantras to carry you through your day.
There is never enough of you.
You are a thirst that is never quenched.
I crave you when you’re away.
I love every piece of you.
But I cannot make you love yourself.
— Michelle K., You Are Enough

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Monday, March 24, 2014

{Quote of the Week.}

Be with someone who you don’t have to hide from, in any way. Whether it’s your morning face before you’ve put your make up on, an embarrassing story to tell about something that happened on your way home, or an ambition you’ve had since you were six… make sure you end up with someone who knows all of it and still loves you. A person you can tell your whole life to is a person worth spending a life with. via

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Friday, March 21, 2014

World Poetry Day || Clementine von Radics, Lang Leav, Warsan Shire

Kissing Her on the Grass
Wojciech Weiss

 A few of my favorite poems from contemporary poets you should know about:

Home - Clementine von Radics
Tell me again about the wedding
we did not have. How I did not wear white,
did not choke on tradition, did not blush.
All the weddings that were not weddings,
the vows that were just sneezing.
The road ahead painted on a wall and how
we sped over and over again into the brick. I say “we”
like you weren’t just watching me bruise.  
Did you know I built us a home, laid the brick,
filled it with Jameson and apple-cheeked
children? I tried to slip the key onto your tongue
but you cannot kiss a smile. So my home is not
an honest home. So my home is an empty bed.
That’s the thing about heart break. It’s the
smallest of worlds ending. Everyone goes around you
smiling, like it’s nothing to close a door  

Love & Misadventures - Lang Leav
It happens like this. One day you meet someone and for some inexplicable reason, you feel more connected to this stranger than anyone else—closer to them than your closest family. Perhaps this person carries within them an angel—one sent to you for some higher purpose; to teach you an important lesson or to keep you safe during a perilous time. What you must do is trust in them—even if they come hand in hand with pain or suffering—the reason for their presence will become clear in due time.  
Though here is a word of warning—you may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn’t to save you but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled; the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life. They will be a stranger to you once more. 

 Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth - Warsan Shire 
the year of letting go, of understanding loss. grace. of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’. the year of humanity/humility. when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed. everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing ‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’. the year i broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands. the year i learnt small talk. and how to smile at strangers. the year i understood that i am my best when i reach out and ask ‘do you want to be my friend?’. the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness. honey honey. the year of being alone, and learning how much i like it. the year of hugging people i don’t know, because i want to know them. the year i made peace and love, right here. 

and more from Warsan Shire, possibly my favorite poem, full-stop.

Who are your favorite poets? 

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Sunday, March 16, 2014

{Quote of the Week.}

"It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them. I was so preposterously serious in those days… Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me… So throw away your baggage and go forward. There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet, trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair. That’s why you must walk so lightly. Lightly my darling…"
— Aldous Huxley, Island

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Saturday, March 15, 2014

"Be careful what you tell the heir to your throne."

Be careful what you tell your children (column) by Chloe Allyn
Be careful what you tell your daughter. Take care with the words you lend to her ear. 
Imagine your voice as the thunder on a summer evening, moments before she leaves to see her friends. Your diction is either lightning, striking down on her youth, or the familiar rumble of summer cloud cover. Your parting words will come as a rainstorm or a blanket of deep blue-gray warmth against the breeze of nighttime. 
Be careful what you tell your daughter. At the dinner table, she should open up to you, her stories should bubble up and out to glide softly into your heart. Listen, empathize, empower. Do not spell “why did you let him do that?” in her alphabet soup when it’s not her motives that must be questioned. 
Be sure your hands conjure a force, a tornado raised from the ashes of sacrificed women before her. Instill within her the majesty of a queen, who loves her kingdom, will sacrifice for her kingdom and will lay down her pride for her kingdom. 
To teach your daughter how to walk down the street and turn every head in awe is the goal. You must build her up, not break her down with the stigmas that she is but an instrument of beauty. 
Your daughter is not just beautiful. She is bold, she is human, she is graceful, she is intelligent and she is the unforgettable whirlwind of charm that leaves behind strands of hair like tokens for all who will praise her. 
Do not teach your daughter that she’s capable of anything less than the distance to the moon. Your daughter is not a mother; do not treat her as one. Tell her every day that until she dies that she still has time. Tell her that until her parting breath. She has the same amount of potential in her pen, in her ballet slipper, in her tennis shoe or in her theories as the universe has energy. 
Never limit your daughter to merely a role in the kitchen, a role as a victim or a role as a supporting part. Your daughter is the hero, your daughter is the antagonist, and your daughter is the author. 
Be careful what you tell your son. Do not replace his tears with daggers. Do not teach him the flaws of the past. His gender and skin color do not define his power. 
Remind your son that he’s made of atoms that once composed the silken petals of roses. That the definition in his biceps is for raising people up, not striking them down. Be cautious that you are not the third Little Pig; do not build your son with stone. 
Never justify your son’s mistakes with “boys will be boys” because boys will be foolish, boys will be heart broken, boys will be warriors, boys will be nurses, but boys will never just be boys. 
Do not teach your son to be a puzzle piece, that he belongs somewhere. Teach your son to be a beacon. Teach your son to be a leader, to be an individual. 
Encourage him to watch scary movies. Encourage him to be afraid. Encourage him to be bold enough to check under his bed for monsters. Teach him that fear isn’t meant to be hidden, teach him that fear is meant to be faced, and at no time does shame marry the feeling of terror. 
Teach your son that he is every color of the sunset; he is the pink blush of gentility, he is the rich gold of success and he is the vivid orange of creativity. 
Be careful what you tell your son. Tell him that he has every right to be a man and a stay-at-home father, a choreographer or a fashion designer. Your son was not born to be just A Man. 
He was born to be himself. 
Be careful what you tell the heir to your throne. Be kind and thoughtful in the messages you convey to the flowers you grow. Do not define the limits they will reach. Do not confine the limits they will reach. Do not intervene with heights they will reach. 
Be careful what you tell your daughter, be careful what you tell your son, and be careful that you don’t limit their access or love of this kingdom under the sun.

There are no words, except one: Yes.
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Thursday, March 13, 2014

Just a few things...

I'm pretty stoked to share that I've started a "royal news" site. I was going to do it mainly to keep my sisters and friends in the royal-know, but have fallen madly in love with every aspect of the concept. I think royal reporting is my real calling... anyone know of a job opening?

So here's that, if you're into that sort of thing... I'm still working on the design/kinks, so please bear with me! (Naturally I've made a twitter for it, too: @RoyallyBlogging.)


March Madness is one of my very favorite times of the year. I'm a Jayhawk after all, we breathe basketball! I'm also a fan of Illinois because my cousin Jon is now playing for them. I was lucky enough to be able to tag along last minute to his game last weekend, where he made the winning 3-point shot. No biggie. It runs in the family. ;) He was even .gif'd! And you can see us all cheering him on in the background. So I guess, in a way, I've been .gif'd, too. Checking that off the bucket list right now. Way to go Jon! We're cheering you on this week during your tournament!

I also got to snuggle on baby Elliott during the game. She didn't make a peep the entire game (or trip!). You guys, she's pretty much perfect.


I've been rewatching The Office and just got to when Pam and Jim finally get together. They give me hope. And so do Dwight and Angela's relationship. And Michael and Holly. I hope the saying "the right people end up together in the end" is true, because that's really all that's keeping my heart hoping these days. Love's hard.


❝ If I am lost, it’s only for a little while.
— (via brotherstories)

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Tuesday, March 11, 2014

{Quote of the Week.}

“I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible. 
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus. 
Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands. 
But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate. 
And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care. 
We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans. 
We never know when the bus is coming.” 
— Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them

*Rather, a "passage of the week"... but hey, I couldn't resist.

Image: Romy Schneider and Alain Delon at home in France, 1959
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Thursday, March 6, 2014

Heard it; Loved it: Stuff You Missed In History Class

Back in October I was starting my regular commute to work and in desperate need of some entertainment for the drive. I was then advised to give Stuff You Missed In History Class a listen and proceeded to listen for seven hours that weekend on the edge of my seat. In my living room. Yes, I couldn't even wait for the drive. I was, and still am, utterly obsessed. I mean, overlooked, yet fascinating historical tidbits summed up in a brilliant way? What's not to love? 

And so, after seeing that they launched their new site today, I decided to finally get around to listing some of my favorite episodes. (I've been meaning to get a list to my friends anyway, seeing as how I dote about the show all the time, they've asked for a few "starter" episodes to see what the fuss is all about... So I figured, why not share it with you? Spread the love, if you will.)

Spoiler alert: I like royal-related topics... 

The Amelia Earhart Mystery
King Ludwig Dines Alone
Victoria and Albert

What happened to the Romanovs?

Do you have any favorite podcasts, or episodes of Stuff You Missed In History Class? I'd love some new listens!

Remember the lesson that history and philosophy have taught us: 
that love is stronger and more enduring than fear. — Camille Desmoulins
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Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Some rules plus other things.

We talk too much.

This is what he said after asking me to call him. After he texted me the whole evening.

We talk too much? 

Yes. It's strange. I don't talk to my best friends as often as I talk to you.

I managed to stutter an OK out while hoping he couldn't hear my tears through my voice. 

I'll talk to ya in seven months then, maybe ten, who knows. Whenever. Whatever.

That's a bit harsh, Anna. Don't you think?

I'm merely repeating back your suggestion. It's what you want.

You make it sound so cold.**

I don't make it sound like anything except the truth.

**We debated this "our talking too much for an hour. Kind of defeats the point, wouldn't you agree?

I'm so tired of the norms and the insecurities and the hiding behind fears. I'm exhausted from reaching out, opening up, and being told that I have to "not care so much."

That's precisely what the world needs more of, not less. 

We need to care. About others. Ourselves. The future. The past. Being apathetic is not why we we're here. There's a difference among getting by, being cordial, and being apathetic. A time and place for each.

With relationships, I don't want to remain indifferent. One of the most important things in our lives, most influential, how can one remain indifferent? I cannot.

I've tried. 

I've attempted to live a life of being passive, going with the flow, playing dumb, and merely trying to fit in. It was one of the most miserable times of my life. I felt as though I was living one way on the outside, only to suppress my true self within. Never. Again.

And that's what I'm trying to learn and practice and honor this year: caring. Caring so much that I live each moment, each relationship to the hilt. We weren't put on this Earth to be robots. We are not Stepford people. I am me, and you are you, and we're here to help each other and learn from one another. How are we supposed to do this if we're all the same?

We can't.

And that's one of the saddest things in the world.

Do your thing.

Own it. Speak it. Live it.

And if your thing happens to be--gasp--caring about people? Care on, my friend. Care on.

Live to the point of tears.
— Albert Camus

I've used this disclaimer, if you will, in the past, almost exactly a year ago, in fact, but I stand by it to this day. Also, to clear up any misunderstandings about what I mean when I use the term "care" in my writing: *And let's not confuse caring for overbearing. Hand to Heaven, I worry so much about being "clingy" that I become the exact opposite. So it's all a bit weird. 

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Tuesday, March 4, 2014

{Quote of the Week.}

The twenties are as frenetic a decade as the teens. You have a voice inside your head repeating I want, I want, I want, but you don’t know what you want or how to get it. You hardly know who you are. You go on instinct. And your instinct mostly pushes you toward adventures you won’t grasp until you look back on them. Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward, some sage once said. – Erica Jong
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