tinylittleworlds asked: Why are you so awesome?

I don’t know but you must have great taste if you think I’m awesome.

is such a small amount over a vast period of time that I usually forget I have this.

Which is probably a good things really. Because then the people who hate me or are upset with me or don’t like me or have forgotten me, can get on theirs and not see me.

But sadly, I don’t get that luxury of not seeing me on the days where I really don’t want to see me. 

It had been almost thirty years since he had seen the sprites around the gnarled old tree filled with glass bottles seized by strings—the tree that his father had made into a spider’s web of color and twine; the tree that when the sun was just low enough in the sky, would dye the world rainbow; the tree that would be in every crayon drawing on the fridge, every dream that was concocted, and every bedtime story.

                It had been almost thirty years since his father had taken him out to the tree, hidden behind the old barn that full mooned summer evening. He was led to the giant and then was alone. Snickers and giggles were heard and the boy turned around to come face to face with a pixie, dusted with what looked like tiny stars, her nose so slight and smile petite that they were almost lost in her rosy cheeks.

                Each star in the sky seemed to lend itself to the bottles, lighting the whole field. Fairies and pixies, brownies and gnomes were all present when the wind blew its song over the bottles, the scores of feet began to skip, their hands grasped and released throughout the summer dance.

                So when this little boy grew up into a man, got married to a beautiful woman and raised a little girl, he slowly adorned the gnarled tree with bottles of different sizes and shapes, each held up by a length of twine. Each one accompanied by dozens of others on the great twisted body which held inside the magic of the world. And one summer night, when the moon was full and the breeze was steady, he took his daughter to the old twisted tree, hidden behind the old barn. He led her to his old friend and then vanished, hidden from view.

                He slunk past rusted forks and shovels, bales of hay and buckets with holes; he got to the knot in one of the boards in the barn and pressed his whole body against old frame that had been there for generations. His heart leapt as he saw her dancing the summer dance and singing the summer song with the fey around her.

                He watched, despite the cramps in his legs, the ache in his back, and the tears streaming down his face. And when she fell asleep among the twisted roots, he lifted her up and tucked her into bed. He gently brushed off the dusting of tiny stars that found its way onto her small button nose. All that remained was the smattering of freckles that were passed down through his father’s family as long as anyone could remember—just as long as the gnarled tree hidden behind the old barn had been filled with color and magic.

ohmygodIlovethenewBeirutalbum

scottlava:

“Only I can live forever.”

<3

I wish I had freckles again.

I wish that I could sing better.

I wish that I could talk to owls.

I wish that I could sleep for an entire day and not feel bad about it.

I wish I could find a way to procrastinate procrastination by doing work.

I wish I could make a dessert with the word “Molten” in the name.

I wish that I could type “dessert” without having to go back and add the second “S.”

I wish that I could enjoy a summer’s day without seeing someone that I know.

I wish I could meet a stranger, have a conversation with them, and remember them for a lifetime and never catch their name.

I wish I could ride the train to school like I used to.

I wish that I didn’t have to decide what I love more, theater or science, when it comes to looking at colleges.

I wished that if I spent time with someone I hate, I would at least be thankful for their company.

I wish that I could have a hug if I needed it.

I wish that upon meeting someone you learn what their favorite flavor jelly bean is.

I wish that if that last one came true, that I would know what my favorite flavor jelly bean is.

I wish that I could do magic, the Harry Potter kind.

I wish that I could paint well.

I wish that my cats would stop staring at me during dinner hoping I drop something.

I wish that I knew what I would look like with a beard.

I wish that I had more socks.

I wish that I could do magic, the Harry Houdini kind.

I wish I could get a new pair of wingtip shoes.

I wish I had an old pair of wingtip shoes to replace with new wingtip shoes.

I wish that the adjective “Dapper” was used to describe me when I dress up.

I wish I knew what type of alcoholic drinks I liked and how much I can drink, so I don’t have to experiment and find out while I’m in high school.

I wish that my senior year didn’t start in a week.

I wish that I did more stuff to put on my Tumblr, but at the same time I really wish I had deleted it.

I wish I didn’t go on her Tumblr several times a day to see how she is (And no, I’m not the anonymous person who is asking you questions, I don’t even know how to do that).

I wish that things were better for me on the topics of girls who hate me and such.

I wish I were friends with more guys.

Actually, I wish there were more guys that I would want to be friends with.

I wish people would stop asking how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop, considering the only good flavor is chocolate, so why would you bite into a chocolate lollipop, when there’s just chocolate inside? Your’e supposed to enjoy it.

I wish I would stop biting Tootsie Pops for the reason as stated above and it’s supposed to be really bad for my teeth.

I wish dentists would stop telling me to floss more, considering I don’t think that anyone really flosses enough.

I wish I could be one of the incarnations of the Doctor, but I’m not British so I can’t.

I wish I could write a book.

I wish I knew what it was like to love a child as much as my mom loved me.

I wish I knew what I have to do to fix things.

I wish I could just leave.

I wish I could make dorky references to things that are funnier than the dorky references I currently make.

On that topic, I wish I could do better comebacks than I currently do.

I wish this girl didn’t just make her Facebook status a song by The Fray.

I wish that I could ask anyone not to smoke or to drink and they actually follow through.

I wish that other people besides myself believe in fairies and trolls and the like.

I wish that the word “fecundity” didn’t make me giggle.

I wish I figured out how Christian Bale can be this skinny little guy in some movies and then all of a sudden BAM! he’s Batman and ripped?

I wish I could go back in time to when I was a little kid and re-experience the Harry Potter series for the first time.

I wish I will cry like I did when Sirius Black died when I lose my father-figure-equivalent.

I wish I had something to talk about so I can get invited to talk at TED.

I wish that people are happy.

I wish I knew why dark, curly hair and freckles makes me melt.

I wish I remember to wish for these on 11:11.

I wish that I am a good father.

The life I live is inorganic

I throw my pop cans

in the trash,

along with those crumpled up letters and notes.

I don’t carpool with my coworker down the block,

though I should.

The food I buy isn’t from Whole Foods

nor have I stepped in a farmer’s market

but from Publix or Kroger.

It’s never “chemical free” but

“chemical less”

and those stickers on the fruit?

They always end up on the sidewalk

waiting for someone for someone to step on them.

And sometimes without thinking

I leave the bathroom light on,

even when I took a shower long ago.

A shower, I might add, that lasted

much too long.

And it’s not out of spite that I do it,

I like the Earth.

Sometimes I just forget.

Not surprising.

But when I’m in my car and that hybrid goes by,

it’s just like a big ol’ “Fuck you.”

Then I watch it speed through a yellow light

even though it was already red,

and as I slow to a stop, I’m like

“Yeah, fuck me.”