Please help out!
I’ve been raising money for these dudes and a lot of people have donated and I couldn’t be more happy. I’m going to keep this fund going probably until the end of the month. Once again, I appreciate any amount that has been/or will be donated. This really does mean a lot to me and I know the band themselves are stoked. So thank you very much!
"
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
"Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via awelltraveledwoman)
(Source: oliviacirce)
WOW WHAT A BABE
Thank you. <3
i know I KNOW but listen I tried okay and my face is bare and I tried that’s all that matters right is that I tried okay sorry
Buy U A Drank - T-Pain
SUMMER WAY BACK
Ima take ya home wit me
(Source: designed-for-life)
my favorite part of shopping is the tears and frustration
thecouscousqueenspersonalbutler:
Garth Brooks - The Dance
——————————————————————————
Looking back on the memory of The dance we shared ‘neath the stars above For a moment all the world was right How could I have known that you’d ever say goodbye?
And now I’m glad I didn’t know The way it all would end, the way it all would go Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance
Holding you, I held everything For a moment, wasn’t I a king? But if I’d only known how the king would fall Hey, who’s to say? You know I might have changed it all
And now I’m glad I didn’t know The way it all would end, the way it all would go Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance
Yes my life is better left to chance I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance——————————————————————————
I saw Bryan Braman at work today.
Joe Namath and Johnny Unitas.
First trailer for Arrested Development - Season 4!
Oh my god.
(Source: timetoputonashow)
Black people, who make up 22% of the poor, receive 14% of government benefits. White people, who make up 42% of the poor, receive 69% of government benefits.
Just so we’re all clear on what we just read. Black people make up 22% of the poor but only 14% of the government benefits. Meaning, 8% of poor Black people are not taking government benefits when they need them.
While, white people make up 42% of the poor but receive 69% of the government benefits. Meaning, there are white people who are classified as middle class who are receiving government benefits.
…but welfare queens and stuff.
always reblog.
Numbers. I cannot get over the frivolous obsession with numbers recent generations have.
What could you possibly mean by that? You do realize that this isn’t a “frivolous obsession”?! There are stereotypes that affect groups of millions of people for the worse that these numbers defeat. How the fuck is that frivolous?
lol white ppl are quick to use numbers and science when it helps them (affirmative action and shit) but are really dismissive when it comes to things that don’t help them.
Because THEN IT’S JUST NUMBERS IT DOESN’T TELL THE WHOLE STORY.
YOU CAN’T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS, DUDES.
theweightofemptiness is the worst kind of fucking asshole
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