Gives Me Hope

     Many of you have probably heard of or visited For those of you that haven’t, it’s a website where people can post brief stories about bad/embarrassing/ironic things that have happened to them. Some of them are hilarious, some are painful, and some of them make me worry about the future of mankind.

     There have been a lot of spin-offs of fml, so however much you love or hate your life there is probably some site out there about it. My favorite is As the website says, it’s “Like FML, but for optimists.” It’s filled with stories of true love, bravery, and random acts of kindness. I know it sounds corny, but reading through the posts really is inspiring.

     So, if you’re ever having a really bad day, or you just need some cheering up, visit gmh. You’ll end up feeling happier than you did before–I promise.


Love, Love, Love

Love. Such a weighted word (As my drama teacher would say, “Whooh”). Usually, it means…you know, love. What you go to see Dear John for. But, in honor of [a very belated] Valentine’s Day, I thought I might take a different approach.

Think about it. Love is what makes you happy (until it makes you sad, that is, but let’s focus on the first part for the sake of my post). And what makes me happy?

Love List

♥ Toile Wallpaper
♥ White and Blue
♥ Giant Headphones
♥ Big, “You could fit a dead body in here” bags
♥ The Beatles
♥ The words “Vintage” and “Curmudgeon”
♥ Guitar picks
♥ The smell of old books
♥ Black and White movies
♥ Furniture that’s modern and antique in the same room
♥ Free iTunes section
♥ Georges Seurat
♥ Chandeliers
♥ Gilt Frames with nothing inside
♥ Giggling until you get stomach cramps
♥ Cubes [of anything: ice, cheese, wood…]
♥ Cameos
♥ 1932
♥ Gardenias
♥ The Smiths
♥ Blu-Tac
♥ Lacquer Flowers
♥ Soymilk
♥ Funky land-line phones
♥ Brocade
♥ Grass
♥ Dandelion Seeds
♥ Drinking tea late at night

Okay. If you’re still reading this after all of that…

Make your own! I know Valentines day is over, but maybe now you can take pride in saying, “This year, Sailing is my Valentine” when someone asks you. It’s actually incredibly fun to make a list of things that you love. Try to go for less obvious things than “My Family”, “My Friends”, or “My Dog”. It’s imperative you love those things. Think about what makes you happy in everyday life, the little things that fill you with excitement when you walk past them.

Happy Valentines Day!

Love, Oasiss

Taco Salad

I got this tasty recipe from my grandmother, who got it from who knows where. What’s great about it is that it’s fast, easy, and you can easily adapt it according to your tastes, how many people you are serving, what ingredients you have available, etc.


  • 1 head Romaine lettuce
  • 1 can beans (mexi, black, pinto, whatever you prefer)
  • shredded cheddar
  • Fresh tomatoes, cut into small pieces
  • Chopped onions
  • Chopped scallions
  • Tortilla chips, crushed
  • Kraft Catalina dressing
  • Taco seasoning, optional, to taste


  • Heat beans in a small pot with some of the juice
  • Mix lettuce, tomatoes, and onions in a large bowl
  • Sprinkle cheddar cheese over veggie mixture
  • When the beans start to bubble, remove from heat and pour over the cheese
  • Add dressing and seasoning
  • Add crushed chips
  • Stir it all up
  • Enjoy!

*I haven’t included detailed quantities, because it’s really up to you how much of each ingredient you put in.

War Poems

Here’s a poem by Siegfried Sassoon, 1918.

DOES it matter?—losing your legs?…
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show that you mind
When the others come in after hunting
To gobble their muffins and eggs. 5
Does it matter?—losing your sight?…
There’s such splendid work for the blind;
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering
And turning your face to the light. 10
Do they matter?—those dreams from the pit?…
You can drink and forget and be glad,
And people won’t say that you’re mad;
For they’ll know you’ve fought for your country
And no one will worry a bit. 15

The Spectator

This one isn't from SWW. It's a painting by Gustave Caillebotte

The man pushed himself out of his chair, stumbling to the balcony’s edge. He gripped the banister for a moment, steadied himself, then stood straight, staring out at the street below him.

I sat, just out of eyeshot, watching him. His face turned away, I caught only the back of his head and his hunched, sloping shoulders. I stayed still, just watching him watch.

He didn’t seem to be paying much attention, gazing listlessly over the Parisian boulevard. Suddenly, his head dropped. It was as if it had been attached to a hinge, so quick and mechanical was the motion. The man let out a sigh, moving his head along as if following someone walking on the street under him. He snapped his head back up again, and, turning to hobble back to his flame-colored seat, allowed his pallid face to be seen for a moment.

A single teardrop traced a river down his cheek.

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