Kristin Cashore’s color-coded copy of The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks. It is magnificent to behold.
Happy 75th anniversary Golden Gate Bridge!
Golden Gate Birthday.
This photo was actually taken 25 years ago, for the bridge’s 50th anniversary. The weight of the crowds flattened the bridge’s curvature, nearly destroying it and sending many hundreds of thousands of people to their deaths. Though nobody died, the claustrophobia and panic caused by the intense gridlock has ensured that such an event will NEVER happen again. Fun facts woo!
(via songheim)
Marriage Proposal of the Day: The planning! The dorkiness! The tears!
So imperfect it’s perfect.
[thanks, rob!]
Hink Suede Flat Sandals in Black $29 at www.tobi.com
I don’t hate my big feet, but I do hate that the world refuses to admit that people of my foot size exist, or that we could ever want cute shoes. *FUME*
Kids:
A few hours ago, I landed in Los Angeles, turned on my phone, and confirmed what you already know. Sony Pictures Television is replacing me as showrunner on Community, with two seasoned fellows that I’m sure are quite nice - actually, I have it on good authority they’re quite nice, because…
This is Henry Treadway. He was born in 1991, like me. I took a picture of him April 23, 2012 — just two Mondays ago. We were at an event making simple prosthetic hands for people in Uganda.. such a faraway place. I had come late, and I was supposed to have been taking pictures the whole time. I noticed the green he was wearing and the colors he chose for the bag were striking, so I quickly snapped a shot of him from far away. But it was no good, so I crept closer and asked him if I could take a picture of him. I was shy. He said sure, but didn’t really move, only tilted the bag slightly more towards the camera. I was a bit surprised—when I ask people for permission to take a picture of them, they pose and look into the camera. Some smile awkwardly with closed lips, some show their teeth with confidence, some will grab a friend. But Henry didn’t. He just kept coloring. I felt like I was bothering him, so I snapped the picture quickly and went on my way.
I heard that he jumped off of Unit 2 at UC Berkeley just a few hours ago. It’s finals week, and I know that the automatic assumption is that he must have jumped because of grades, or whatever, but I just can’t accept it. I didn’t know him; heck, I didn’t even know his name until today when I saw a blurry photo of him on the Facebook event for his memorial and slowly realized why he looked so familiar—I’d stared at his image on Lightroom for so long, his face was sort of imprinted in my brain. But I basically didn’t know him, so I really have no right to say anything about him. Maybe it was grades. But I just feel that there must have been something more than that! Not that anything is worth giving up your life for. But how hopeless he must have had to feel, to hurl himself from the residence hall to meet the rushing courtyard below! Did he leave a note? It’s too early to know. I don’t even think they’ve released reports with his name on it yet, which makes me feel like a fool posting this because, well, what if it’s not even him and I’ve wasted all this mental anguish for nothing? But if it is…
I guess I just wanted to say that I regret not talking to him when I was taking this picture. I regret it not because I think I would have made a difference, but just.. I wish I had tried to get to know him. I wish I hadn’t been so shy. I wish I had paid more attention to others. I wish I could have gotten over the constraints of gender, awkwardness, ethnicity, a hectic schedule, and whatever else that kept me from making conversation. I have lost my chance at knowing this human being. And now I will try to remember this. I will remember you, Henry Treadway. Rest in peace.
