Last night I saw the movie the Secret Life of Walter Mitty. It was the perfect movie for the end of one year and the beginning of the next—personal growth was a major theme, finding oneself, taking risks. And it was just a little bit cheesy, which is so the new year. (What’s up with that, 2014?) I’ve been thinking a lot about my goals and resolutions for next year—which I’ll share in the next couple of weeks—and I felt like I was deciding and refining what I wanted to accomplish and who I wanted to be while watching this movie. Then I cried for the first time in a while when it was over, and I felt really great.
still via fast company
I just took a “Which Love Actually character are you?” quiz and got Spider-Man.
I never know what to do with my hair when I wear a scarf, but obviously this is the move—how pretty is this simple look?
photo by d is for dangerous
All hail Queen Mariah.
I saw American Hustle last night. It was fantastic, of course, and as always, Jennifer Lawrence totally stole the show. I can’t get over what a perfect actress/human she is.
It took me a while to realize that when people were taking about J Law, they meant Jennifer Lawrence and not Jude Law (ugh gross), but now I am, I admit, totally in love with her.
still via screenpicks
My dad is about the coolest guy in the world. We’re a lot alike, awkward, self-deprecating, and a little neurotic. Despite not having a Facebook or a smart phone, my dad also stays very up on pop culture. During Thanksgiving dinner, he mentioned that he was having some shoulder pain and so he decided to X-ray himself. He is a doctor, but isn’t a radiologist. Our ensuing conversation:
Me: Did you take the X-ray yourself, or was there a technician?
Dad: There was a tech. I didn’t take, like, an X-ray selfie.
Ha! I’m waiting for my flight back to Portland, but sometimes I think I’d be happiest moving back in with my parents, working out at the gym everyday, and watching baseball and reality TV every night. Funemployment 4 lyfe
I have no clue whether this is any good, but I am 100 percent in love with Miles Heizer even though he was born in the nineties. Alternatively, he needs to make a real-life baby with his current on-screen love interest. Oy, those genes!
I’m thankful for family and friends, books and Earl Grey tea. I’m thankful for cozy nights watching movies with my sweet boy. I’m thankful for burritos, beer, board games, bad hip hop. Gchat and Google hangouts. I’m thankful for cute pups walking down sidewalks and sunshine and parks in the summertime. For the Rays. I’m thankful for adventure and comfort, cows and road trips—feet up on the dash, with a Mexican Coca Cola—and A-frame cabins. Quiet nights. I’m thankful for vintage dresses and cozy scarves and thrift store finds. I’m thankful for words and love and those big moments where everything feels so overwhelmingly perfect, and the quieter moments in between. Khloe Kardashian. Macklemore. The library. I don’t know. Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
Whenever I think about the quotes I selected for my senior yearbook, I feel horribly embarrassed. If I could go back in time, I’d take a page from this chick.
(F) flourine (U) uranium (C) carbon (K) potassium (Bi) bismuth (Tc) technetium (He) helium (S) sulfur (Ge) germanium (Tm) thulium (O) oxygen (Ne) neon (Y) yttrium
photo and chemical names via complex
I treated myself to dinner at a new vegan Indian restaurant (!!!) tonight. I’ve been feeling a little moony and sad the last few days, so I figured a special dinner would be just the thing. And it was. I ordered a dosa plate and drank cucumber water and read my book (Rainbow Rowell’s Attachments, this week).
I felt pretty happy, sitting there. I looked around the small restaurant, decorated with a tasteful printed wallpaper and vintage Bollywood posters. People smiled at me. A girl Instagrammed a picture of her beet juice-tequila cocktail and then apologized to the room when the flash went off. (“I didn’t know the flash was on. Oh my god. I’m deleting it.”) It was Portland-perfect.
When I dine alone, I try to avoid tables too close to others, but tonight I settled in at a cozy table right next to a couple. He had a generous, bushy ‘stache and an oversized beanie. She wore a topknot and a military-inspired anorak, a nervous grin. I tried to focus on my book, but this conversation was rich. They were hunting for an apartment, no easy feat in the landlords’ heaven that is PDX. He was living in a house with several housemates. My rent for this month is, like, $192, he bragged. But the housemates were trying to get out of their lease. She had a “super sweet” studio. They wanted to find a family-friendly, but still hip (of course!) ‘hood, since they’re expecting.
I like the posters they have up, he said, of like, old Westerns. I managed not to laugh, but just barely.
I’ll admit I was a little jealous of them—the owner of the restaurant, a friend, apparently, came to sit with them, and I tried not to stare. How is everything? he asked. Do they want anymore food? I wondered if I should ask for an order of pakoras. A tattooed waitress shuffled over to ask the owner if he wanted any food. (Customers order at the bar.)
The couple explained their rental dilemma to their friend. I’m supposed to sign the lease on this one place tomorrow night, the mom-to-be said. We are, she corrected herself. I wondered when she realized that what were her decisions were now theirs. But we really like this little house in northeast, she went on, so we want to see it first. They couldn’t decide if they should risk losing the first apartment. I guess it’s not the safest choice, he said. But we’re not really doing things the easy way anymore, since we found out about the baby.
Me, a dosa, and two hipster parents-to-be. Ain’t life grand?