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I have very little to brag about, but I am a maker of things. And I'm very proud of that.

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my new favorite people.

(Source: le-well)


(via le-well)
Pantone Baby Blankets. Now I just need a baby.

Pantone Baby Blankets. Now I just need a baby.

Bicycle wheel animations.

No words. 

I call him Uncle Earnie. Ripped out of a National Geographic when I was in Highschool, he was used as a reference for one of my earliest drawings I can claim to have actually finished. I was 16 at the time. Mr. Love was my art teacher. There was only one Harry Potter movie at that point.I once figured it out. I think I’ve lived, all total, since 2004, in something like 23 different addresses. Without intending to bring him along, Uncle Earnie has somehow managed to survive every one of those moves. Every time I unpack I open a manilla folder, or a sketchbook, or bag of something and out falls Earnie. In New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, even Compton and Provo. Serendipity.This last move, my 22nd, I finally gave him some of the credence he deserves and put him on my wall. Above my desk, and right between a hastily sketched Luchador, and a Tuxedo’d Steve Zissou. I’m comforted by his toothless grin and impeccable taste in eye glasses. And I guess, if I read into it, he serves as a subtle reminder that the coolest things that happen to me are rarely planned, or intentional. But more than likely he’ll just remind me that I used to be 16. Worth it. Thanks, Earnie.

I call him Uncle Earnie. Ripped out of a National Geographic when I was in Highschool, he was used as a reference for one of my earliest drawings I can claim to have actually finished. I was 16 at the time. Mr. Love was my art teacher. There was only one Harry Potter movie at that point.

I once figured it out. I think I’ve lived, all total, since 2004, in something like 23 different addresses. Without intending to bring him along, Uncle Earnie has somehow managed to survive every one of those moves. Every time I unpack I open a manilla folder, or a sketchbook, or bag of something and out falls Earnie. In New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, even Compton and Provo. Serendipity.

This last move, my 22nd, I finally gave him some of the credence he deserves and put him on my wall. Above my desk, and right between a hastily sketched Luchador, and a Tuxedo’d Steve Zissou. I’m comforted by his toothless grin and impeccable taste in eye glasses. And I guess, if I read into it, he serves as a subtle reminder that the coolest things that happen to me are rarely planned, or intentional. But more than likely he’ll just remind me that I used to be 16. Worth it. Thanks, Earnie.

Still love this.

Grit. Love. Underwear.

“…Well, the only dreams worth pursuing are those that pass the underwear test. These are the pursuits that don’t bore us, even after we put in 10,000 hours of practice. They contain the kind of subtle thrills that don’t get old, that we don’t adapt to, that keep us motivated and interested for years and years at a time. Sure, there will be frustrations along the way, but these frustrations don’t feel permanent, which is what allows us to keep on working and learning and improving. Because that’s what it takes to succeed, to accomplish something interesting. Perhaps you want to invent the cure for malaria, or bake a perfect baguette, or create the next Facebook. Whatever – don’t apologize for your obsession. Just be grateful you are obsessed with something, that you’ve found a goal worth getting gritty over. Because if your goals ever feel tedious… then you’re never going to put in the necessary work. Grit requires passion. Grit requires love. And love is just another name for what never gets old. Love is the opposite of underwear.”

Jonah Lehner, Wired Magazine
Convocation Speech Earlham College 

(Source: Wired)