(Source: anchor91)
Meanwhile, our rabbit would simply go for the cats neck with its nasty sharp point teeth.
(via 4gifs)
“Come, Mr. Frodo!” he cried. “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you and it as well. So up you get! Come on, Mr. Frodo dear! Sam will give you a ride. Just tell him where to go, and he’ll go.”
So. Much. Bromance.
Currently going through a late-teens crisis of self, realizing that, actually, I’m pretty unhappy with where my life is headed and that when I’m 60 and I look back at my life and realize that I’ve done nothing different, influenced no one, created nothing, and have generally lived the American “Good Life”, I may just kill myself there and then. I want to be somebody, a mover and a shaker, someone who is known and out there, not this anonymous, lonely kid living in Nowheresville, Missouri. I want to know important people, create influential works, travel places and see the world and be seen by the world. Anything else just seems like a recipe for existential ennui and mindless daily toil for “The Man”, a situation sure to leave me an angry, stymied, bitter, depressed, and unfulfilled SOB.
Bill Murray can make just eating rice awesome. The man is a genius.
(via joker-im)
This man was driving me across Tehran yesterday, when I learned that he’d lived for 8 years in America— incidentally on the same STREET as me in Georgia.
He first crossed into the United States from Mexico— paying $1,500 to be transported across the border. He wanted to go to University and be a dentist, but learned that the idea of America was much more bountiful than the reality. He worked at a factory job for 8 years, without ever being able to get a drivers license. He wasn’t able to find a foothold in society. After 9/11, he said things got much tougher for Middle Eastern immigrants. “I had a great passion for the American people,” he said. “When 9/11 happened, I had no money, so instead I gave my blood.”
Five years ago he spent a night in jail for driving without a license. He decided he was tired of being nervous all the time, and he went all out for a green card. When he was turned down, he returned to Iran.
His fee for a 45 minute taxi ride across Tehran was only $6. I paid him the rate he’d have received in America, and asked for his photograph. He was the kind of man I most admire. The kind that realizes you get one shot at life, and risks everything to make the best of it. I was sorry it didn’t work out for him.
“It was my destiny,” he said. He didn’t sound like he believed his own words though.
“Are you married?” I asked.
“Yes. I met my wife when I returned to Iran.”
“Well there you go,” I said.
As I prepared to take his photograph, he made one request: “Don’t photograph me with the taxi,” he said, “it’s a low class job.”
“It’s not a low class job,” I said. “It’s the job of people who take huge risks so their children can be lawyers and surgeons.”
(Tehran, Iran)
