sunlit-silence - Tumblr blog

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running up the hill to make a deal with god again. anyone need anything

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Keep your time, keep your mind, keep humble. Start your life in the middle of the jungle.

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renaissance in the 21st century

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a darkened auditorium with 264 silent people in the seats. on the stage, me, sitting on a stool, lit by a spotlight, the only light in the theatre. i hold up a photo of my cat, 10 people applaud, two or three hold up photocopies of the same photo, the rest do nothing, watching, waiting. 

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I'm just so obsessed with my little home 🥰

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(608): May have caused an international incident. More details after we taxi in.

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"Cabin secure."

"We need maintenance to come take a look at something."

"Ladies and Gentlemen looks like it's going to be a few more minutes..."

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Leaving Mexico

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The sky over America was gorgeous tonight

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I found this in the notebook where I keep my lyrics. I can't for the life of me remember if I had a melody for it yet, but it makes a cool poem. It is definitely from last summer.

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“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully you leave something good behind.” Anthony Bourdain ( June 25th 1956 - June 8th 2018 )

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WHO WAS I TALKING ABOUT HERE?  I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER!

...For a while I couldn’t stop thinking about my unattainable crush through it all. It’s perfect though; logically I know nothing will happen, so leaving will get him off of my mind. I wrote this little charming (if sort of creepy) gem a while back while on a layover: 

I stared out of the peephole in my heavy hotel room door, waiting for him to walk by. I knew he’d take the room next to mine, like always. My breath against the wood grain warmed my face up to my eyes, but I refused to blink. I heard voices, my coworkers parting ways for the night mere feet away, and still I waited. After 15 seconds I began to question my sanity in this position, like trying to catch a glimpse of humpback whale’s breaching on the tip of the horizon. My breath caught in my throat and my heart stopped it’s pounding for a moment as his slender form appeared in my fish-eye view. Half a second before I abruptly turned my body to the side, as if he could see my eye watching him. I’m sure he’d seen that all day anyway.

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If you're so angry you could just cry, then cry. It terrifies everyone

Tina Fey

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Another Africa post I discovered in my drafts, years later, and unfinished.

I spent a chilly Friday sitting reserve in my apartment all day, contemplating productivity, but mostly wasting the rapidly fleeting hours scrolling through blogs and watching Top Gear. I took a nap. Then at 7pm, a trip appeared on open time. 6 days in Dakar, Senegal. My name was the only one on the list. A panic swept over me, one that is embarrassing to admit. I don’t really like working international trips, I don’t like feeling incompetent, and surrounded by senior flight attendants who work these trips and only these trips constantly. 80 hours in Senegal? What would I do if the crew were a bust? I nervously start packing, and moments later am alerted by scheduling. On the phone with mom and dad, I’m not sure what I’ll need to bring, so have a small array of everything. I share a jumpseat with Susan. Former Pan Am stewardess, she is British, about 75 years old, and brassy in a way that seems utterly graceful and elegant. I love her immediately. We were delayed and oversold, and Susan and I do everything we can to calm and appease the needy herd on the plane, and we commiserate our loss of crew rest and the impending exhaustion we all no matter is creeping in. To keep each other awake, Susan and I swap stories, huddled on the 2L jumpseat, directly across from sleeping passengers. Watching them lightly snore makes me want to weep with jealousy. Susan’s stories have a similar effect. She tells me about her youth in Egypt, how she was raised on Water Buffalo milk and used to play games by the Nile. She speaks lavishly about years spent living in Beirut and Kabul, and frequent layovers to India where she was friends with a Maharashtra’s daughter. Later in life she developed cancer, more than once, and she spent a few days in hospital after drinking radioactive iodine. There she befriended the father of one of the real life men who died in "the perfect storm."