what we feel most has no name

Today is Robbie’s birthday, and in a couple of days it will be one whole year since we went on our first date. We have been through some stuff since then - waiting on the cancer all-clear, my parents’ divorce, my med-affected moods, the death of his friend. But it has nearly always been happy. He has always, always been good and patient.

On the date we drank a lot, I think because we were both very nervous and not actually sure if it was a date or not. Then we met up with some friends. One of their housemates said, “How long have they been together? They’re such a cute couple.” I took this as a good omen. We saw each other like five times in the next week, including when I sat at the after-hours vet with him, and when I invited him over in a moth-induced panic.

Last night we were talking about all of this. He said, “Moths were my wingmen.” Then: “Because they have wings.” And then he laughed a lot.

Booroomba Rocks in Namadgi National Park. The park is huge and named after the Aboriginal word for the mountains here near Canberra. The weekend was so sunny and warm, like winter suddenly just up and left. We had a picnic at the top with apple, cheese, grapes, chocolate.

"One bird singing back to another because it can’t not."

Jane Hirshfield, from “All Day The Difficult Waiting”, in Come, Thief  (via clarev)

(Source: the-final-sentence, via clarev)

Asking Robbie if he wants to go out for dinner for his birthday next week, or if he would rather do something with his friends, or family. “You are my friends or family.”





My mother’s favourite cake, orange and almond. The first time I made it was in my parents’ kitchen, and I wrote about boiling the oranges because I was very sad. My boyfriend had moved to England, and I was young and it felt very big and like the end, not just of us but of everything. It’s at least five years later now and my mother is here visiting me before she moves to Scotland, and the cake is made again, and in just over one week she will be gone.

My mother’s favourite cake, orange and almond. The first time I made it was in my parents’ kitchen, and I wrote about boiling the oranges because I was very sad. My boyfriend had moved to England, and I was young and it felt very big and like the end, not just of us but of everything. It’s at least five years later now and my mother is here visiting me before she moves to Scotland, and the cake is made again, and in just over one week she will be gone.

Much needed Sam-therapy on Sunday. The excitement of the dog park can wear off pretty quickly, so Robbie walked her down to the lake and got in the water with her. At first she was just kind of bouncing around and it looked so silly, but she found her feet pretty quickly, and even helped teach another golden retriever how to swim. Then we played fetch for a long time. Afterwards we took her for a nice leisurely walk to dry off, and we saw baby swans, and there was lots and lots of wattle. If I stopped for too long to look at something or take a photo, Sam would give Robbie a kind of look and would make him wait for me to catch up. I think we will have a good spring together. I didn’t even sneeze.

In my dream last night Robbie and I hadn’t met yet, and something felt wrong the whole time.

At work listening to blues songs and not doing work. I’m rewarding myself for every little thing I get done today (“open that document” “make that phone call”) by looking up cute diy projects, new recipes, different ways to grow plants. We’re all on a super tight budget in the house at the moment, so we’ve been brainstorming ways to save money. We’re planning spring backyard picnics, bike rides, planting days. We’ll be moving in January, which means thinking ahead to what we can harvest before then, or take with us. Making lists - strawberries, beetroot, peas, cucumber, capsicum/peppers, basil, thyme. 

imathers:

miss-kubelik:

kateceratops:

People are giving Wilson money to thank him for killing an unarmed black teenager. Please report this to GoFundMe, as it violates their Terms of Service and they get 5% of the tens of thousands of dollars being donated. Click to report.
This is my message, in case you want to copy and paste:
Your Terms of Service prohibit “items that promote… hate, racial intolerance, or the financial exploitation of a crime.” Take a look at the comments that come with the donations on this page and tell me that doesn’t violate your terms. “Support Officer Wilson” is a thin veil for people rewarding Wilson for killing a black kid.

SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE.

When you report the page, you need the link to it as well; that’s here (so you can copy and paste the link without visiting it).

This makes me fucking livid. Some example comments:I am sorry you were physically attacked by Michael Brown and I hope your injuries (both physical and emotional) heal completely! I am glad you protected yourself from further harm. Thank you for doing your job to keep us safe. Darren Wilson already had to defend himself against a 300 pound thug without any help. The officer now has the monumental task of defending himself against Obama, Holder, Nixon, Jackson, Sharpton, the media, the mob, etc. These people have an agenda and Darren Wilson needs help. If these people succeed in railroading this man then none of us are safe. Ferguson P.D. Officer Darren Wilson is a SURVIVOR, and a true-blue HERO. God Bless and Protect Officer Darren Wilson and his Family from these evil forces of mendacious manipulation and unmitigated malevolence, their bitter lies, and their violent, puerile subterfuge. To help you against all the racism that attacks you under the guise of tolerance. From Switzerland, with love I applaud all of your efforts to protect the city of Ferguson. It is disgusting to realize that you are being condemned for doing your job and having to protect yourself from an obvious criminal. Use this money as you see fit. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. You did the right thing. I support you.

imathers:

miss-kubelik:

kateceratops:

People are giving Wilson money to thank him for killing an unarmed black teenager. Please report this to GoFundMe, as it violates their Terms of Service and they get 5% of the tens of thousands of dollars being donated. Click to report.

This is my message, in case you want to copy and paste:

Your Terms of Service prohibit “items that promote… hate, racial intolerance, or the financial exploitation of a crime.” Take a look at the comments that come with the donations on this page and tell me that doesn’t violate your terms. “Support Officer Wilson” is a thin veil for people rewarding Wilson for killing a black kid.

SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE.

When you report the page, you need the link to it as well; that’s here (so you can copy and paste the link without visiting it).

This makes me fucking livid. Some example comments:

I am sorry you were physically attacked by Michael Brown and I hope your injuries (both physical and emotional) heal completely! I am glad you protected yourself from further harm. Thank you for doing your job to keep us safe.

Darren Wilson already had to defend himself against a 300 pound thug without any help. The officer now has the monumental task of defending himself against Obama, Holder, Nixon, Jackson, Sharpton, the media, the mob, etc. These people have an agenda and Darren Wilson needs help. If these people succeed in railroading this man then none of us are safe.

Ferguson P.D. Officer Darren Wilson is a SURVIVOR, and a true-blue HERO. God Bless and Protect Officer Darren Wilson and his Family from these evil forces of mendacious manipulation and unmitigated malevolence, their bitter lies, and their violent, puerile subterfuge.

To help you against all the racism that attacks you under the guise of tolerance. From Switzerland, with love

I applaud all of your efforts to protect the city of Ferguson. It is disgusting to realize that you are being condemned for doing your job and having to protect yourself from an obvious criminal. Use this money as you see fit. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

You did the right thing. I support you.

(via afirethorn)

I removed the quotes and it was all like “depression at work” “mental health/the nature of suicide” etc.Really my dream job is professional animal cuddler but this PhD scholarship is a close second.

I removed the quotes and it was all like “depression at work” “mental health/the nature of suicide” etc.

Really my dream job is professional animal cuddler but this PhD scholarship is a close second.

List of all the rivers, mountains, roads until I find you

(part II)

Noosa. Brisbane. Mekong Delta. Caboolture. The Thames. Molonglo. Derwent. Cotter.


I have crossed them all. All the rivers I can swim.

*
Tibrogargan. Tennent. Ainslie. Tambourine. 

The day I climbed a mountain without meaning to, and you came to find me. My body hurt for days and you carried me. 

*
It took me so long to learn how to drive.

The Weather Reported



I’m glad the cabin is finished in Cañones.
                     
                          Did Elud finish the rock wall?
                     
                          The bedroom facing south?

I was less of a person then, I know.
I was less of a bird then, too.

              Do the two streams still run?
              The roadrunner? The crane?

Remember the night on the porch: Chinaco and chilies
                         by the Rio Grande, the cloud that passed over us
                         in the shape of your face?

 We both saw it. You were the weather.

 I was moving to you, to the river, but
             I was not a morning dove, or a marsh hawk.

I’m sorry that I could not stay. Your name was too big for me,
             twice my age—you were still running faster than water.

I moved to the farthest tip of the East,
             you sent me binoculars for my bird-watching.
             and a bunch of Mexican sage from the bosque.

Santiago, I am my own weather now.
Santiago, I am my own river.
Santiago, I am a better bird for flying. 

Ada Limón