a friend is someone you don't really need to use punctuation with when you text.

if i wrote songs i'd record sounds from my bedroom window during the day and then score those at night. but i write words so that makes me exempt

without this job i'm not sure i would ever wear clean clothes

Practice Being A Fan Of Yourself I know that I’m venturing into saccharine bumper sticker-sized therapy here, but an essential skill to doing this is recalling the feeling that you are fundamentally a funny person. Not the MOST funny, not the MOST charismatic, but just —— funny. Once we like a performer, we are very forgiving of moments in which he or she falls short in a show. We barely notice them since we so surely believe that a better moment is coming down the road. Can you simply decide to have that same attitude towards yourself? You MUST believe that on some level you are funny or smart or charming or you wouldn’t have been able to walk into that first improv class. Somewhere in you is the belief that you are good. Make that feeling grow. When you have a good scene in class, when you are funny in a conversation with someone at work, when you write a funny email — and you know it — hold onto that feeling. Picture it like a seedling sprouting in the vast prairies of your mind and give it water and sun. Let that feeling grow. It is ultimately what will solve the problem of being in your head forever: the belief that you are good, and that when things aren’t going well that you are a good person having a bad day. http://improvnonsense.tumblr.com/head

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one year.

http://video.pbs.org/search/?q=julia+jacques+concert

if living and working in a big city only encourages your hate of outsiders you're doing it wrong

idealism is also privilege, right? to be able to afford to be idealistic is a class in itself.

Perhaps nowhere is consistency more valued than in baseball, a game whose self-reverence for tradition and purity might be contributing to its fading place as America's pastime. The history of the game is valued above any one major league season; the integrity of a season is valued beyond any one team; the identity of a team is more important than that of its players. Flashiness of any kind is discouraged, and so players such as Yasiel Puig have to defend themselves simply for celebrating a home run. In the game's unwritten code, drawing individual attention is considered unbecoming, if not downright unsportsmanlike.

http://espn.go.com/espn/feature/story/_/id/12420393/top-blue-jays-prospect-daniel-norris-lives-own-code

For almost 80 years, his father and grandfather owned and operated a small bicycle shop in car-dependent Johnson City, and their store was not only a place to sell bikes but a way to spread their family values and popularize a belief system. Play outdoors. Love the earth. Live simply. Use only what you need. Norris spent his childhood outside with his parents and his two older sisters, going for weekend bike rides and hiking trips, playing football, basketball and baseball. In school, he was a varsity star in all three, but it was baseball -- and particularly pitching -- that most aligned with his personality. Being alone on the mound reminded him of being out in the wild, where he was forced to solve his own problems and wrestle with self-doubt. "I was a good pitcher because I was already good at taking care of myself," he says. "I love having teammates behind me, but I'm not going to rely on them. It can get quiet and lonely out there when you're pitching, which drives some people crazy. But that's my favorite part.

He sometimes senses the assumption from others players and fans that his eccentricity is just a passing phase. Will he really continue to live in a van if $2 million becomes $50 million? Will he still have a thought journal when he's not just a fringe baseball curiosity but a star? How can even the most ardent nonconformist survive the pressures of mainstream fame, corporate sponsorship and the traditionalism of the game. "What I'll do, if baseball goes well, is I'll become even more of an ambassador for the things I really care about," he says. "I'll make sure Shaggy's still running. I'll pioneer change in how sports thinks about the environment." He wants to make fans more aware of the earth and make stadiums less wasteful. But now it is just Van Man and Shaggy alone on the beach, and the pressure is mostly abstract, and there's no one to judge him and no reason to conform. He walks toward the surf, and the wind whips against his jacket. The sky shows its stars, and he tries to name them. The moon is nearly full, and its light casts his shadow across the beach. Norris takes out his camera and starts photographing everything he sees: the shadow, the van, the stars, the road. "I have to capture this," he says, because it is another night on a deserted beach and he is at ease, and maybe he can hold on to the moment. Maybe he can make it last.