02:28 am, whenyouhiccup
3 notes
video

Last Time | Paul Baribeau

Everywhere I go
everyone I know comes with
Wonder how many more I can fit
inside this crowded, crazy heart.


02:09 am, whenyouhiccup
2 notes
picture HD
On my last night in Quito, it’s raining over Gonzalo Gallo. It’s hard to believe that 186 days ago I was tossing under my sheets, trying to pull myself together and get a few hours of sleep before my first official day in Ecuador. I had just met my host parents and had NO idea what their names were, no idea where I lived, who I lived with, where my toothbrush was in my carry on bag or how to say good morning properly in Spanish.
Tonight, over 6 months later, I felt comfortable coming home for the last time. I locked all four doors without any problem: slammed the giant metal one as quietly as possible, knew to turn key in the gated door twice, put my shoulder into the wooden door to make it stick, and lost all my composure at the last glass door.
Goodbyes have always been hard. But they’ve always been permanent or temporary. I’ve never had to say goodbye to something as vague as an ‘experience.’ I’ve never said goodbye not knowing if or when I’ll see someone again, not knowing if I’ll ever sleep in this bed, or wake up to Pichincha outside my window.
I’ve been a total mess this past week, and I can’t seem to put my feelings into words at the moment. I just can’t believe tomorrow will be the last time I wake up to my wall of windows and to Gladys’ pajama-clad self asking me “como amaneciste Hannita mia?”
Lucille Clifton says it better.


"Things don’t fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept."


Whelp. That’s all I’ve got. Buenas noches, Quito.

On my last night in Quito, it’s raining over Gonzalo Gallo. It’s hard to believe that 186 days ago I was tossing under my sheets, trying to pull myself together and get a few hours of sleep before my first official day in Ecuador. I had just met my host parents and had NO idea what their names were, no idea where I lived, who I lived with, where my toothbrush was in my carry on bag or how to say good morning properly in Spanish.

Tonight, over 6 months later, I felt comfortable coming home for the last time. I locked all four doors without any problem: slammed the giant metal one as quietly as possible, knew to turn key in the gated door twice, put my shoulder into the wooden door to make it stick, and lost all my composure at the last glass door.

Goodbyes have always been hard. But they’ve always been permanent or temporary. I’ve never had to say goodbye to something as vague as an ‘experience.’ I’ve never said goodbye not knowing if or when I’ll see someone again, not knowing if I’ll ever sleep in this bed, or wake up to Pichincha outside my window.

I’ve been a total mess this past week, and I can’t seem to put my feelings into words at the moment. I just can’t believe tomorrow will be the last time I wake up to my wall of windows and to Gladys’ pajama-clad self asking me “como amaneciste Hannita mia?

Lucille Clifton says it better.

"Things don’t fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept."

Whelp. That’s all I’ve got. Buenas noches, Quito.


12:51 pm, whenyouhiccup
2 notes
quote
Growing up is about aiming to succeed wildly and being fulfilled by failing really well.

02:00 pm, whenyouhiccup
reblogged
2,316 notes
text
Heather Sommer, Traveler

Your first time out of the country
of your own skin, I didn’t bring a map.

You always hated that I’d been lucky
enough to pick my way through streets

I couldn’t pronounce to find cathedrals,
graveyards. If you were a city, you said,

I’d only like to know your suburbs.

If you were a city, I said, I’d like to know
your poor neighborhoods, your inner parts.

Read your graffiti. Drink your tap water.
Feel your smog and dirt stick to my sweat.

Hear your orchestra of sirens and gunshots.
I’d know which of your streets to walk.

If you were a city, I’d expect to be robbed.

(Source: decompmagazine.com)


01:55 pm, whenyouhiccup
9 notes
quote
The funny thing about wishing yourself into the future is that once you’ve finally reached what you’ve been waiting for, time keeps moving at whatever rate it wants.
The one and only, Emily D.

06:06 pm, whenyouhiccup
reblogged
22 notes
picture
ONE week countdown to the Galapagos. Did you know that shark skin is just a continuation of their teeth? Horrifying.

ONE week countdown to the Galapagos. Did you know that shark skin is just a continuation of their teeth? Horrifying.

(Source: youarethebloodiinmyveinss)


07:28 pm, whenyouhiccup
7 notes
picture HD
On August 16th, 2011, I sat down at my newly decorated desk and grabbed the old, wooden ruler I’d found while rummaging through the drawers. I’d been in Quito for less than three days and it had begun to dawn on me that I had already started to regret my decision.
People kept telling me that study abroad would fly by; that it would be over before I knew it. But all I saw were the 147 blank boxes on my calendar, waiting to be crossed off.
For some strange reason, I thought it would be a good idea to stop the calendar in January. I knew that at that point, my family would have already visited and left, it would be 2012 (shit) and that, you know, January and February wouldn’t really count in the scheme of things.
Nineteen days ago I checked off my last box. Today, I’m taking the calendar down. I’ve realized this past week, that the thing I’ve regretted most about study abroad is the counting I’ve been doing, the list-making, the room cleaning. There were too many times I let myself get caught up in what was coming up instead of what was going on.
But now, it feels like the past me has given the present me a little gift of sorts—whoddathunk?—and now I have 24 days of unchecked bliss. In two days, I’ll be done with my ICRP hours, one of my best friends will land in Quito, I’ll be off to the jungle, to mountaintops and the Galapagos, and then this wonderfully transcendent adventure will come to a close.
It definitely didn’t fly by. Maybe it stumbled by, or crawled by, or staggered by. But the times where it didn’t feel like time was flying or inching along at all, the times when we all just ‘were,’ those are the ones that mattered and the ones I remember most.

On August 16th, 2011, I sat down at my newly decorated desk and grabbed the old, wooden ruler I’d found while rummaging through the drawers. I’d been in Quito for less than three days and it had begun to dawn on me that I had already started to regret my decision.

People kept telling me that study abroad would fly by; that it would be over before I knew it. But all I saw were the 147 blank boxes on my calendar, waiting to be crossed off.

For some strange reason, I thought it would be a good idea to stop the calendar in January. I knew that at that point, my family would have already visited and left, it would be 2012 (shit) and that, you know, January and February wouldn’t really count in the scheme of things.

Nineteen days ago I checked off my last box. Today, I’m taking the calendar down. I’ve realized this past week, that the thing I’ve regretted most about study abroad is the counting I’ve been doing, the list-making, the room cleaning. There were too many times I let myself get caught up in what was coming up instead of what was going on.

But now, it feels like the past me has given the present me a little gift of sorts—whoddathunk?—and now I have 24 days of unchecked bliss. In two days, I’ll be done with my ICRP hours, one of my best friends will land in Quito, I’ll be off to the jungle, to mountaintops and the Galapagos, and then this wonderfully transcendent adventure will come to a close.

It definitely didn’t fly by. Maybe it stumbled by, or crawled by, or staggered by. But the times where it didn’t feel like time was flying or inching along at all, the times when we all just ‘were,’ those are the ones that mattered and the ones I remember most.


08:07 pm, whenyouhiccup
3 notes
text

And now I cannot remember how I would
have had it. It is not a conduit (confluence?) but a place.
The place, of movement and an order.
The place of old order.
But the tail end of the movement is new.
Driving us to say what we are thinking.
It is so much like a beach after all, where you stand
and think of going no further.
And it is good when you get to no further.
It is like a reason that picks you up and
places you where you always wanted to be.
This far, it is fair to be crossing, to have crossed.
Then there is no promise in the other.
Here it is. Steel and air, a mottled presence,
small panacea
and lucky for us.
And then it got very cool.

—John Ashbery


08:04 pm, whenyouhiccup
3 notes
picture HD
GPOY hiding and being a goof. 
"I photo-bomb myself"

GPOY hiding and being a goof. 

"I photo-bomb myself"


05:39 pm, whenyouhiccup
reblogged
209 notes
quote
Here’s the thing that’s funny about self-love. People say that in order to have someone love you, you gotta love yourself and I think that’s BS. I know many people who are in relationships and full of self-loathing. In fact, it seems like the more damaged someone is, the more likely they are going to be in a relationship. It might not be a healthy one but they’ll be tethered to someone for sure. So listen, don’t go love yourself and think it’s going to complete the puzzle. Don’t think people are going to gravitate to you because when you love yourself, you delete 70% of your dating options because you’re looking for someone who’s equally as happy and well-adjusted, which is a rare thing to find. So love yourself just for the sake of doing it, for being able to look in the mirror without wincing and to take yourself out to the movies and lunch and think you’re great company. Do it in order to stay happy.