tertiary-things-blog
This is where I go to be embarrassing
Poorly written, poorly photographed observations. Idk, my patronus is a salmon so who cares?
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If there is a creator that governs the way our lives revolve around the threads of fate, how do you think they decide who dies and who gets to live? Sometimes I feel like I won this crazy lottery that I don't actually want--and all of it is at the expense of others.
Did you know there was this young man from my university who died in his senior year? He was the best; kind, smart, always brought joy into the lives of those around him. Everybody loved him. Sometimes I wonder if we could barter our lives in exchange for others'. I'd probably trade mine for his.
Don't look at me with those sad eyes.
Despicable is what I am.
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I think the tragedy of it all was that they were so immersed in the ecstasy of their own loves for each other, that it gradually felt unreal
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Ubud, Bali, Indonesia
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Pantai Melasti, Bali
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Ruth Bader Ginsburg was born in Brooklyn in 1933. She meets Steve Rogers pre- or post-freezing.
OR BOTH!
1942:
It was nice to be back in New York, Steve thought, after touring the whole country with the Star Spangled Show. Even better, once the show was done here, they were going overseas – not into combat, but at least it was a start. It made him cheer up just to think about it, and he maybe threw a little extra flair into the show every night, took a little extra time at the stage door.
“What’s your name?” he asked, crouching to get on eye-level with the little girl who had been patiently waiting behind several taller, pushier people.
“Ruth,” she said shyly, offering him her autograph book.
“Lovely name,” he replied. “Did you like the show?”
She nodded. “I liked the dancing.”
“You gonna be a dancer when you grow up?”
“Nuh uh,” she said.
“What’re you gonna be?”
“A judge,” she said.
“Yeah? You gonna make sure justice is done?”
She nodded soberly.
“Well, Ruth, you gotta study hard, you know that, right?” he asked, as he signed her book. “I expect to see you on the bench someday.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, stepping back, and another handful of kids surged around her. Cute kid.
2012:
Steve had always liked Civics in school, but when you had to catch up on seventy years between your last history class and the present, it could get a little overwhelming. On the other hand, celebrity was good for something; when he’d been working on memorizing the names and major cases of the Supreme Court justices, Tony had said, “Well, do you want to meet them?”
A couple of long phone calls and a few weeks later, Steve passed through a LOT of security, down a hallway, and into a courtroom; it was early in the morning, ahead of the open public hours, and the room smelled like coffee. A tiny bird of a woman in a black gown was standing in front of the seating box.
“Captain,” she said, as he shook her hand.
“Justice Ginsburg, right?” he asked. “It’s an honor, ma’am.”
“I feel the same,” she said, and there was something very familiar about her smile. “I wanted to get here a little earlier than everyone else, to speak to you in private.”
He was opening his mouth, about to ask why, when she reached into a pocket of the robe and took out a battered leather book, the kind kids used to collect autographs in.
“I don’t suppose you remember, you must have signed a lot of autographs,” she said. “But back in the war, just before you left for overseas, I went to see your bond show.”
Steve looked down. Scrawled on the page was his clumsy signature and, in slightly better lettering, To Judge Ruth. Study Hard!
He looked up at her, eyes wide. “No, I remember – I asked if you wanted to be a dancer and you said no, you were going to be a judge.”
“You were the first adult outside of my family who didn’t sneer at a girl wanting to be a judge,” she said.
“Well,” Steve said faintly. “Guess you must have studied.”
“Captain America said he wanted to see me on the bench. Couldn’t very well let him down,” she replied, and Steve laughed.
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That’s it, I guess. Just go on living, whether you feel like it or not.
Anton Chekhov (via quotemadness)
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via Karangasem, Bali, Indonesia
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Gunung Payung, Bali
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Ubud, Bali, Indonesia
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me: am i ugly?
literally every friend i have: i think u look like a person
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Galeria Wayang dan Topeng Setia Darma, Bali, Indonesia
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Gunung Payung, Bali, Indonesia
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Horror film concept: Dude (outwardly respectable and married with children) trolls and stalks a girl on the internet with sexist, horrible remarks. Thinks nothing of it. It’s just some fun. Gets on with his life. Then it turns out she’s a chainsaw-wielding manic who will absolutely track him down and destroy his life.
Not kidding, I wrote a script like that once. For a class project.
Based on an anecdote my friend told me about her shock at discovering she was being stalked online by, well, a NORMAL family man. With two daughters. (She wasn’t a psycho, though. She was just, eh, quite scared of him.)
It was Kill Bill meets Clerks.
But as my screenwriter teacher pointed: “Well, Sharon, it’s low-budget. Which works and is feasible. But it’s too dark for American audiences, obviously. I think most people would just end up feeling bad for the main guy. He’d be the hero.”
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Me: *spills coffee* haha hey look it's the town fuckup constantly fucking up!
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