I phoned my mom.
Am I bitter or is it really kind of annoying seeing a million mothers’ day shout-outs on facebook, when these people could just—I dunno—phone or visit said mom?
The sappiness is killing me.
Also: now I’m part of the problem.
I think I might love Macklemore.
This video makes me feel like I’ve been on an adventure I’m so confused…
Actually all these Macklemore/Ryan Lewis videos are pretty lovely. And as a general rule I hate music videos.
I think “Otherside” is probably my favourite.
I just don’t even know what…The internet is a wonderful place.
Not sure if I feel nostalgic or just confused.
So I found the most amazing/terrifying birthday cards at the dollar store today.
I can’t wait to give these things away.
Aaannnnnd people think I’m good at drawing.
This is the result of watching Murder She Wrote and The Ninth Gate in the same day.
Also I didn’t know how to spell ‘ninth.’
Penelo: “Vaan’s friend”
Been reliving some XII on my PS2, and perusing my surprisingly worn-out strategy guide. Which is where I got the title from.
Because that’s her identifier. Y’know, we have our tragic princess and knight—dashing pirates, a filthy street rat and…
“Vaan’s friend.”
I just…
Fucking Penelo.
About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I had a pokemon. Second, there was a part of me - and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be - that wanted to be the very best, like no one ever was. Third, Gary Oak was unconditionally and irrevocably a douchenozzle.
Reblogging for the comment
How old are you?
“ten”
How long have you been ten?
“…”
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TEN
Misty looked at Ash, his breathing still heavy from carrying her on his bike as fast as he could through the long grass outside of Pallet Town.
“You’re eyes are impossibly huge and black,” Misty said. “Your hair is… incredibly pointy, and doesn’t need product. Your face changes size and shape based on your feelings… and sometimes you speak like - like you’re from the 90’s. You never spend money on anything; you don’t go to the bathroom.”
The silence hung there, thick and heavy like a Snorlax blocking the bike path.
“How old are you?” Misty asked, not sure if she wanted to know.
“Ten,” Ash replied, with a slight smirk and an almost amused tone.
Misty new that wasn’t true. Ash wasn’t like the other boys her age. He wasn’t even like her older sisters who ran the gym in Cerulean City. He was wiser and his passion was genuine.
Ash didn’t just want to catch them all, he needed to. He was going to be the best there ever was no matter how long it took, which gave Misty this nagging in the back of her mind. She had to know for sure.
“How long have you been ten?” she asked. Her voice weak, knowing full well the answer could change everything she thought she knew.
“A while…” Ash said. His voice trailing off, as if he were losing himself in a flood of memories.
Misty let out a faint gasp. She knew now. She was certain.
“I know what you are,” she declared, as if whatever had been holding her back from accepting the truth, finally let go of her hand and let her fall right down the Diglett hole.
Ash eyes were alive now, flickering like the flame on a Charmander’s tale.
He stared right into her and said, ”Say it… out loud. Say it.”
Misty’s heart was pounding louder than the thud of a Marowak’s bone club attack.
Despite the now eerily silent meadow, she could barely be heard as she whispered, “Pokemon Trainer.”
Now I wanna hear the soft, whiny indie version of the pokemon theme song.
