"i can’t be with someone who has doubts, no matter how small they are. i need someone who wants to be with me as much as i want to be with them. i don’t want just part of your heart, i want all of it."
"Wake me up at 3am just to tell me that I’m not close enough. Wake me again at 7am because we need to get ready for the day. Once more at 7:15 because we both know I don’t do mornings. Tell me about the dream you had last night while we have toast and orange juice. I’m tired as hell but I hear and feel every single word that you say. Ask me how I slept because you feel like you’ve been talking for too long. My answer is always the same when you ask, sleeping next to you is heavenly. Apologize for waking me up at 3am while I assure you that it’s okay and that I’m so glad that you did, then rally in your stubborn persistence the notion that it was out of line. Start explaining how wrong it was. You won’t get very far into your rant because I need to kiss you. Not only to stop you from being ridiculous but because I love you so much more than I can express with words. So please, wake me up at 3am so I can pull you closer and kiss you softly. “I love you endlessly” will be my sleepy response each time; as those four words are the only ones that can even come close to explaining my feelings for you."
I love you a lot (via sarahiscray)
"I find the best way to love someone is not to change them, but instead, help them reveal the greatest version of themselves."
Steve Maraboli (via observando)
368 
via  src  RBG

2014: july

2wentysixletters:

july was breathing 
a different kind of air
and discovering
a certain kind of 
softness to life. 
in a city filled with
lights and people,
some may lose themselves.
but i, i think
i find myself.

(a.y) 

"Everything will fall into place when it needs to. You just need to get up every morning and do your part of the job, do something every day that will get you closer to your dream, and eventually, life will take you there if you let it."
Notes from Tin Pan Alley (via makelvenotwar)
The Doorway Effect: Why your brain won’t let you remember what you were doing before you came in here
I work in a lab, and the way our lab is set up, there are two adjacent rooms, connected by both an outer hallway and an inner doorway. I do most of my work on one side, but every time I walk over to the other side to grab a reagent or a box of tips, I completely forget what I was after. This leads to a lot of me standing with one hand on the freezer door and grumbling, “What the hell was I doing?” It got to where all I had to say was “Every damn time” and my labmate would laugh. Finally, when I explained to our new labmate why I was standing next to his bench with a glazed look in my eyes, he was able to shed some light. “Oh, yeah, that’s a well-documented phenomenon,” he said. “Doorways wipe your memory.”
Being the gung-ho new science blogger that I am, I decided to investigate. And it’s true! Well, doorways don’t literally wipe your memory. But they do encourage your brain to dump whatever it was working on before and get ready to do something new. In one study, participants played a video game in which they had to carry an object either across a room or into a new room. Then they were given a quiz. Participants who passed through a doorway had more trouble remembering what they were doing. It didn’t matter if the video game display was made smaller and less immersive, or if the participants performed the same task in an actual room—the results were similar. Returning to the room where they had begun the task didn’t help: even context didn’t serve to jog folks’ memories.
The researchers wrote that their results are consistent with what they call an “event model” of memory. They say the brain keeps some information ready to go at all times, but it can’t hold on to everything. So it takes advantage of what the researchers called an “event boundary,” like a doorway into a new room, to dump the old info and start over. Apparently my brain doesn’t care that my timer has seconds to go—if I have to go into the other room, I’m doing something new, and can’t remember that my previous task was antibody, idiot, you needed antibody.
Read more at Scientific American, or the original study

The Doorway Effect: Why your brain won’t let you remember what you were doing before you came in here

I work in a lab, and the way our lab is set up, there are two adjacent rooms, connected by both an outer hallway and an inner doorway. I do most of my work on one side, but every time I walk over to the other side to grab a reagent or a box of tips, I completely forget what I was after. This leads to a lot of me standing with one hand on the freezer door and grumbling, “What the hell was I doing?” It got to where all I had to say was “Every damn time” and my labmate would laugh. Finally, when I explained to our new labmate why I was standing next to his bench with a glazed look in my eyes, he was able to shed some light. “Oh, yeah, that’s a well-documented phenomenon,” he said. “Doorways wipe your memory.”

Being the gung-ho new science blogger that I am, I decided to investigate. And it’s true! Well, doorways don’t literally wipe your memory. But they do encourage your brain to dump whatever it was working on before and get ready to do something new. In one study, participants played a video game in which they had to carry an object either across a room or into a new room. Then they were given a quiz. Participants who passed through a doorway had more trouble remembering what they were doing. It didn’t matter if the video game display was made smaller and less immersive, or if the participants performed the same task in an actual room—the results were similar. Returning to the room where they had begun the task didn’t help: even context didn’t serve to jog folks’ memories.

The researchers wrote that their results are consistent with what they call an “event model” of memory. They say the brain keeps some information ready to go at all times, but it can’t hold on to everything. So it takes advantage of what the researchers called an “event boundary,” like a doorway into a new room, to dump the old info and start over. Apparently my brain doesn’t care that my timer has seconds to go—if I have to go into the other room, I’m doing something new, and can’t remember that my previous task was antibody, idiot, you needed antibody.

Read more at Scientific American, or the original study