Some good things from all the bad: Tonight I talked to three of my closest friends from high school, two of whom I haven’t talked to in years. Virtually every important memory I have of high school involves Rikki. She used to call me Trish, but she spelled it Tric. “Well, your name is spelled with a C,” she’d say. I thought, and still think, that’s so endearing.
(via)
(via good-morning-scarecrow)
Excellent. She’s certainly in my top… three… favorite companions. She was my first, though, so she’ll always have a special place.
(And she definitely has the very best hair.)
(photo via Emily Sutton)
I spent four and a half hours monitoring severe weather coverage this afternoon. O. Henry and I had to take shelter at one point. It’s always an adventure in Oklahoma!
(via captainjack13 and neilmobile)
Someone I loved once told me that this song reminded him of his father. His father passed away a couple of years later. We never discussed the song after that, but it had special meaning for him, so it does for me, too, now.
(via captainjack13)
Y’all know I don’t get excessively nervous about severe weather, but it can be tricky because when something truly dangerous comes in, unless you’ve been tracking it all along and have a clear idea of where it is and which direction it’s heading, being unprepared is being unsafe.
Case in point, I was sitting here at 3:50 and thought, It’s getting cloudy and Emily Sutton tweeted about possible severe weather today… I should probably put the news on to see what they’re saying. No sooner had I done that than the tornado sirens went off. Bear in mind that they don’t go off all that often, so when they do, I get moving. I threw O. Henry’s harness on, grabbed some shoes, a purse, and my phone, and went down to my apartment offices to chill for half an hour with some neighbors. O. Henry thought it was a dog party because there were lots of puppy neighbors in there.
Anyway, that cell passed us, but as soon as I got back to my place, I watched live video of a tornado touch down less than a mile north of my sister. That storm cell is still active, northeast of the city. “Large, violent, multi-vortex,” says meteorologist Mike Morgan. “Large, violent wedge” touching down now, “Easily going to be an F4. That’s a potential killer, folks have got to get out of the way of that thing.” (Is what I’m hearing as I type this.)
ANYWAY. When this stuff comes up and you haven’t been paying attention, it’s pretty intense. The only other bit of info to report is the humorous way information spreads in my family. My dad texted at 4:00, “Roxanne says tornado sirens are going off.” I told him they were for me, too, but we’d taken cover. After the tornado up by Roxanne, I was texting her updates to supplement whatever information she could get in her shelter about the activity of the storm. 15 minutes later my dad said, “Kimberly says that Roxanne says they’re okay and are keeping an eye on the storm.” Yep. I know. It’s like a long distance game of telephone we play when these things happen.
UPDATE: They just showed footage of the damage, I think up in Carney, and it’s bad. Houses gone, Houses with halves missing. Debris everywhere. But a man is already out with his tractor and scoop moving debris off the road so emergency vehicles and volunteers will be able to get through. <3
London Collections: Men - GQ UK by Robert Fairer, June 2013
A fashion shoot at Spencer House and my friend Simon Foxton neglected to tell me. Oh, the agony.
Uh huh. Now, which friend of mine spent the weekend idyll-ing at a 15th century country house, lah ti dah? Oh, yes. It was you. ;)
So, the Doctor’s name is Frank?
Possible SPOILER ALERT (if you’re like me and are newer to these mysteries than others are):
SO. As you may or may not recall, I’m watching the seasons all out of order. I started with seasons 5 and 6, went back to season 1, skipped out halfway through season 2 to pick up with season 7, and went back to season 2 where I’d left off. Given that the show itself is about time travel, this hasn’t caused any additional confusion since I spend most of the time just taking the information given as it comes and never trying to make it make sense anyway.
BUT. Nick told me tonight that the season 7 finale was awesome, then posted the above about the Doctor’s name. COINCIDENTALLY, in the season 4 ep I just finished, River Song, of all people, shows up (for the first time in both the show’s and reality’s chronology and, I presume, the last time in her own chronology) and whispers something in the Doctor’s ear. Later, in a very tense moment, he says (so lovingly; aw, the Doctor and River), “River, you know my name. You whispered my name in my ear. There’s only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name. There’s only one time I could.” This show is so dark - so deep and weighty - for being as cheesy and alien-y as it is. ANYWAY. What a coincidence about these name episodes, right?! I’ll have to watch the season 7 finale tomorrow if I can and see whether we really learn the doc’s name.
Incidentally, the Tenth Doctor was more dreamy in this episode than usual. Just when he starts to grow on me, I’m getting prepped for his departure. And Donna was only in this one season? But she’s my new new favorite! Why can’t we have all the lovely Doctors and companions forever? This show requires a hell of a lot of emotional investment and energy, I tell you what.
And he who seeks only pearls, setting aside
shell after shell, that man shall come to
the Creator, to the Master, with empty hands—
and he will find that he is dead and dumb
in heaven…
The Tragedy of Mr. Morn, Vladimir Nabokov
(via good-morning-scarecrow and linguistry)
Ireland, I am coming home
I can see your rolling fields of green
And fences made of stone
I am reaching out
Won’t you take my hand
I’m coming home, Ireland
I just heard Garth Brooks’s “Ireland” for the first time in probably 15 years, and I definitely didn’t understand the significance of the chorus when I was singing along back then. I think I thought they’d won the battle.
Incidentally, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how badly I want to leave the US (it’s such a negative, emotionally poisonous environment now, and sometimes it feels distinctly like it’s sucking my soul dry), but if I die in another country, someone tell my family I want to be buried here, okay? It wasn’t always like this, there was a time I loved it more than anything in the world except God himself, and I want to be buried in (or, more accurately, have my ashes scattered upon) the same land as my ancestors and my heroes.
